LIBBA  IR^ST 

©hcatogicaJ  femhumj 

PRINCETON,  N.  J. 
The  Stephen  Collins  Donation. 

No.  CasePyj 
No.  Shelfs^ 

No.  Book, 

No, 


)Z0t 


SERMONS 


AND 


DISCOURSES. 


BY 


THOMAS  CHALMERS,  D-D.  &  LL.D,, 

PROFESSOR  OF  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  FREE  CHURCH  OF  SCOTLAND. 


FIRST    COMPLETE    AMERICAN   EDITION, 

FROM   THE   LATE   GLASGOW   STEREOTYPE   EDITION,    REVISED   AND    CORRECTED 
BY   THE    AUTHOR. 


IN    TWO    VOLUMES. 

I 


VOL.   II. 


NEW    YORK: 

ROBERT    CARTER,    58    CANAL    STREET, 

PITTSBURG:— THOMAS  CARTER. 


1844. 


,;♦•*  *  V\     ,  • 


P  P  r  r.r  n  ,_ 


CONTENTS    OF   VOL,    II. 


— =_ — 


SERMONS  ON  THE  DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 

SERMON  I. 

THE  NECESSITY  OF  THE  SPIRIT  TO  GIVE  EFFECT  TO  THE  PREACHING  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 

"  And  my  speech,  and  my  preaching,  was  not  with  enticing  words  of  man's  wisdom,  but  in 
demonstration  of  the  Spirit  and  of  power ;  that  your  faith  should  not  stand  in  the  wisdom  of 
men,  but  in  the  power  of  God." — 1  Cor.  ii.  4,  5 12 

SERMON  II. 

THE    MYSflGRIOUS    ASPECT    OF    THE    GOSPEL    TO    THE    MEN    OF    THE    WORLD. 
"Then  said  I,  Ah,  Lord  God!  they  sayofme,  Doth  he  not  speak  parables  V — Ezek.  xx.  49.    20 

SERMON  III. 

THE  PREPARATION  NECESSARY  FOR  UNDERSTANDING  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 

"He  answered  and  said  unto  them,  Because  it  is  given  unto  you  to  know  the  mysteries  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  but  to  them  it  is  not  given.  For  whosoever  hath,  to  him  shall  be  given, 
and  he  shall  have  more  abundance ;  but  whosoever  hath  not,  from  him  shall  be  taken  away  even 
that  be  hath."— Matt.  xiii.  11,  12 26 

SERMON  IV. 

AN    ESTIMATE    OF    THE    MORALITY    THAT    IS   WITHOUT    GODLINESS. 

"  If  I  wash  myself  with  snow  water,  and  make  my  hands  never  so  clean;  yet  shalt  thou 
plunge  me  in  the  ditch,  and  mine  own  clothes  shall  abhor  me.  For  he  is  not  a  man,  as  I  am, 
that  I  should  answer  him,  and  we  should  come  together  in  judgment.  Neither  is  there  any 
day's-man  betwixt  us,  that  might  lay  his  hand  upon  us  both." — Job  ix.  30 — 33.         .        .  32 

SERMON  V. 

THE  JUDGMENT  OF  MEN,  COMPARED  WITH  THE  JUDGMENT  OF  GOD. 

"  With  me  it  is  a  very  small  thing  that  I  should  be  judged  of  you,  or  of  man's  judgment ; — 
he  that  judgeth  me  is  the  Lord." — 1  Cor.  iv.  3,  4 37 

SERMON  VI. 

THE    NECESSITY    OF    A    MEDIATOR    BETWEEN    GOD    AND    MAN. 

"  Neither  is  there  any  day's-man  betwixt  us,  that  might  lay  his  hand  upon  ua  both." — 
Jobix.  33 44 

SERMON  VII. 

THE  FOLLY  OF  MEN  MEASURING  THEMSELVES  BY  THEMSELVES. 

"  For  we  dare  not  make  ourselves  of  the  number,  or  compare  ourselves  with  some  that  com- 
mend themselves:  but  they,  measuring  themselves  by  themselves,  and  comparing  themselves 
among  themselves,  are  not  wise." — 2  Cor.  x.  12 48 

SERMON   VIII. 

CHRIST    THE    WISDOM    OF    GOD. 

"  Christ  the  Wisdom  of  God."— 1  Cor.  i.  24 » 


IV  CONTENTS. 

SERMON   IX. 

THE    PRINCIPLES    OF    LOVE    TO    GOD. 

"  Keep  yourselves  in  the  love  of  God." — Jude  21 61 

SERMON   X. 

GRATITUDE,    NOT    A    SORDID    AFFECTION. 
"  We  love  him,  because  he  first  loved  us." — 1  John  iv.  19 66 

SERMON   XI. 

THE   AFFECTION    OF    MORAL    ESTEEM   TOWARDS    GOD. 

"  One  thing  have  I  desired  of  the  Lord,  that  will  I  seek  after ;  that  I  may  dwell  in  the 
house  of  the  Lord  all  the  days  of  my  life,  to  behold  the  beauty  of  the  Lord,  and  to  inquire  in 
his  temple." — Psalm  xxvii.  4 75 

SERMON  XII. 

THE    EMPTINESS  OF    NATURAL    VIRTUE. 
"  But  I  know  you,  that  ye  have  not  the  love  of  God  in  you." — John  v.  42.    .        .        .  82 

SERMON  XIII. 

THE    NATURAL    ENMITY    OF    THE    MIND    AGAINST    GOD. 
"  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God." — Rom.  viii.  7 91 

SERMON  XIV. 

THE    POWER    OF    THE    GOSPEL    TO    DISSOLVE    THE    ENMITY    OF    THE    HUMAN 
HEART    AGAINST    GOD. 

"Having  slain  the  enmity  thereby." — Ephes.  ii.  16 96 

SERMON   XV. 

THE    EVILS    OF    FALSE    SECURITY. 

"  They  have  healed  also  the  hurt  of  the  daughter  of  my  people  slightly,  saying,  Peace, 
peace ;  when  there  is  no  peace." — Jer.  vi.  14 101 

SERMON  XVI. 

THE    UNION    OF    TRUTH    AND    MERCY    IN    THE    GOSPEL. 

"  Mercy  and  truth  are  met  together ;  righteousness  and  peace  have  kissed  each  other." — 
Psalm  Lxxxv.  10 107 

SERMON   XVII. 

THE    PURIFYING    INFLUENCE    OF    THE    CHRISTIAN    FAITH. 

"Sanctified  by  faith."— Acts  xxvi.  18 112 


DISCOURSES  ON  THE  APPLICATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  THE 
COMMERCIAL  AND  ORDINARY  AFFAIRS  OF  LIFE. 

DISCOURSE   I. 

ON  THE  MERCANTILE  VIRTUES  WHICH  MAY  EXIST  WITHOUT  THE  INFLUENCE  OF 

CHRISTIANITY. 

"  Finally,  brethren,  whatsoeve  things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honest,  whatsoever 
things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things 
are  of  good  report ;  if  there  be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any  praise,  think  on  these  things." 
Phil.  iv.  8 119 


CONTENTS.  V 

DISCOURSE   II. 

THE    INFLUENCE    OF    CHRISTIANITY    IN    AIDING    AND    AUGMENTING    THE 
MERCANTILE    VIRTUES. 

"  For  he  that  in  these  things  serveth  Christ  is  acceptable  to  God,  and  approved  of  men." — 
Rom.  xiv.  18 125 

DISCOURSE    III. 

THE    POWER  OF    SELFISHNESS    IN    PROMOTING    THE    HONESTIES    OF    MERCANTILE 

NTERCOURSE. 

"  And  if  you  do  good  to  them  which  do  good  to  you,  what  thank  have  ye  1  for  sinners  also 
do  even  the  same." — Luke  vi.  33.  131 

DISCOURSE    IV. 

THE    GUILT    OF    DISHONESTY    NOT    TO    BE    ESTIMATED    BY    THE    GAIN    OF    IT. 

"  He  that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  is  faithful  also  in  much ;  and  he  that  Is  unjust 
in  the  least,  is  unjust  also  in  much." — Luke  xvi.  10. 139 

DISCOURSE   V. 

ON    THE    GREAT    CHRISTIAN    LAW    OF    RECIPROCITY    BETWEEN    MAN    AND    MAN. 

"  Therefore  all  things  whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to 
them ;  for  this  is  the  law  and  the  prophets." — Matt.  vii.  12 147 

DISCOURSE   VI. 

ON    THE    DISSIPATION    OF    LARGE    CITIES. 

"  Let  no  man  deceive  you  with  vain  words  ;  for  because  of  these  things  cometh  the  wrath 
of  God  upon  the  children  of  disobedience." — Eph.  v.  6 154 

DISCOURSE   VII. 

ON  THE  VITIATING  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  HIGHER  UPON  THE  LOWER  ORDERS  OF  SOCIETY. 

"  Then  said  he  unto  the  disciples,  It  is  impossible  but  that  offences  will  come :  but  woe  unto 
him  through  whom  they  come  !  It  were  better  for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his 
neck,  and  he  cast  into  the  sea,  than  that  he  should  offend  one  of  these  little  ones." — Luke  xvii.  1, 2.  161 


DISCOURSE   VIII. 

ON    THE    LOVE    OF    MONEY. 


"  If  I  have  made  gold  my  hope,  or  have  said  to  the  fine  gold,  Thou  art  my  confidence;  If  I 
rejoiced  because  my  wealth  was  great,  and  because  mine  hand  had  gotten  much  ;  If  I  beheld 
the  sun  when  it  shined.  or  the  moon  walking  in  brightness  ;  and  my  heart  hath  been  secretly 
enticed,  or  my  mouth  hath  kissed  my  hand ;  this  also  were  an  iniquity  to  be  punished  by  the 
judge;  for  I  should  have  denied  the  God  that  is  above." — Job  xxxi.  24 — 28.     .        .         .        169 


SERMONS  PREACHED  IN  ST.  JOHN'S  CHURCH,  GLASGOW. 
SERMON  I. 

THE  CONSTANCY  OF  GOD  IN  HIS  WORKS  AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  THE  FAITHFULNESS 
OF   GOD   IN   HIS   WORD. 

"  For  ever,  O  Lord,  thy  word  is  settled  in  heaven.  Thy  faithfulness  is  unto  all  generations: 
thou  hast  established  the  earth,  and  it  abideth.  They  continue  this  day  according  to  thy  ordi- 
nances :  for  all  are  thy  servants." — Psalm  cxix.  89,  90,  91.         .        .        .        .        .        .        261 

SERMON  II. 

THE    EXPULSIVE    POWER    OF    A    NEW    AFFECTION. 

"  Love  not  the  world,  neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world.  If  any  man  love  the  world, 
the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  him." — 1  John  xi.  15 271 


0 


VI  CONTENTS. 

SERMON  III. 

THE    SURE    WARRANT    OF    A    BELIEVER'S    HOPE. 

"  For  if,  when  we  were  enemies,  we  were  reconciled  to  God  by  the  death  of  his  Son ;  much 
more,  being  reconciled,  we  shall  be  saved  by  his  life." — Romans  v.  10 278 

SERMON  IV. 

THE    RESTLESSNESS    OF    HUMAN    AMBITION. 

"  How  say  ye  to  my  soul,  Flee  as  a  bird  to  your  mountain  1 — O  that  I  had  the  wings  of  a 
dove,  that  I  may  fly  away,  and  be  at  rest." — Psalm  xi.  1,  and  lv.  6.  ....        285 

SERMON  V. 

THE    TRANSITORY    NATURE    OF    VISIBLE    THINGS, 

"The  things  that  are  seen  are  temporal." — 2  Cor.  iv.  18. 289 

SERMON  VI. 

ON    THE    UNIVERSALITY    OF    SPIRITUAL    BLINDNESS. 

"  Stay  yourselves,  and  wonder,  cry  ye  out,  and  cry  :  they  are  drunken,  but  not  with  wine; 
they  stagger,  but  not  with  strong  drink.  For  the  Lord  hath  poured  out  upon  you  the  spirit  of 
deep  sleep,  and  hath  closed  your  eyes ;  the  prophets  and  your  rulers,  the  seers  hath  he  covered. 
And  the  vision  of  all  is  become  unto  you  as  the  words  of  a  book  that  is  sealed,  which  men  de- 
liver to  one  that  is  learned,  saying,  Read  this,  I  pray  thee :  and  he  saith,  I  cannot ;  for  it  is 
sealed.  And  the  book  is  delivered  to  him  that  is  not  learned,  saying,  Read  this,  I  pray  thee ; 
and  he  saith,  I  am  not  learned." — Isaiah  xxix.  9 — 12 294 

SERMON  VII. 

ON  THE  NEW  HEAVENS  AND  THE  NEW  EARTH. 

"  Nevertheless  we,  according  to  his  promise  look  for  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth  wherein 
dwelleth  righteousness." — 2  Peter  iii.  13 301 

SERMON  VIII. 

THE    NATURE    OF    THE    KINGDOM    OF    GOD. 
"  For  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  word,  but  in  power." — 1  Cor.  iv.  20.        .        .        307 

SERMON   IX. 

ON    THE    REASONABLENESS    OF    FAITH. 

"  But  before  faith  came,  we  were  kept  under  the  law,  shut  up  unto  the  faith  which  should 
afterwards  be  revealed." — Gal.  iii.  23. 313 

SERMON  X. 

ON    THE    CHRISTIAN    SABBATH. 

"  And  he  said  unto  them,  The  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for  the  Sabbath." — 
Mark  u.  27 319 

SERMON   XI. 

ON    THE    DOCTRINE    OF    PREDESTINATION. 

"  And  now  I  exhort  you  to  be  of  good  cheer :  for  there  shall  be  no  loss  of  any  man's  life 
among  you,  but  of  the  ship.  Paul  said  to  the  centurion  and  to  the  soldiers,  Except  these  abide 
in  the  ship,  ye  cannot  be  saved."— Acts  xxvii.  22,  31 325 

SERMON  XII. 

ON    THE    NATURE    OF    THE    SIN    AGAINST    THE    HOLY    GHOST. 

"Wherefore  I  say  unto  you,  All  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy  shall  be  forgiven  unto  men; 
but  the  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost  shall  not  be  forgiven  unto  men.  And  whosoever 
speaketh  a  word  against  the  Son  of  man,  it  shall  be  forgiven  him ;  but  whosoever  speaketh 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  it  shall  not  be  forgiven  him,  neither  in  this  world,  neither  in  the  work! 
to  come."— Matt.  xii.  31,  32.  332 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

SERMON  XIII. 

ON    THE   ADVANTAGES    OF    CHRISTIAN    KNOWLEDGE    TO    THE    LOWER    ORDERS    OF 

SOCIETY. 

"  Better  is  a  poor  and  a  wise  child  than  an  old  and  foolish  King,  who  will  no  more  be  ad- 
monished."— Eccl.  iv.  13. 340 

SERMON   XIV. 

ON  THE  DUTY  AND  THE  MEANS  OF  CHRISTIANIZING  OUR  HOME  POPULATION. 

"  And  he  said  unto  them,  Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  crea- 
ture."— Mark  xvi.  15 345 

SERMON   XV. 

ON    THE    DISTINCTION    BETWEEN    KNOWLEDGE    AND    CONSIDERATION. 

"  The  ox  knoweth  his  owner,  and  the  ass  his  master's  crib  ;  but  Israel  doth  not  know,  my 
people  doth  not  consider." — Isaiah  i.  3.  350 


DISCOURSES  ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  REVELATION,  VIEWED  IN 
CONNECTION   WITH   MODERN   ASTRONOMY. 

DISCOURSE   I. 

A    SKETCH    OF    THE    MODERN    ASTRONOMY. 

"  When  I  consider  thy  heavens,  the  work  of  thy  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars,  which  thou 
hast  ordained ;  What  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  rum'?  and  the  son  of  man,  that  thou 
visitest  himl" — Psalm  viii.  3,  4.        .....  362. 

DISCOURSE   II. 

THE    MODESTY    OF    TRUE    SCIENCE. 

"  And  if  any  man  think  that  he  knoweth  any  thing,  he  knoweth  nothing  yet  as  he  ought  to 
know." — 1  Cor.  viii.  2 369* 

DISCOURSE   III. 

ON    THE    EXTENT    OF    THE    DIVINE    CONDESCENSION. 

"  Who  is  like  unto  the  Lord  our  God,  who  dwelleth  on  high  ;  Who  humbleth  himself  to  be- 
hold the  things  that  are  in  heaven,  and  in  the  earth  !" — Psalm  cxiii.  5,  6.        .        .        .        377 

DISCOURSE    IV. 

ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  MAN'S  MORAL  HISTORY  IN  THE  DISTANT  PLACES  OF 

CREATION. 

'Which  things  the  angels  desire  to  look  into." — 1  Peter  i.  12.  ....        383 

DISCOURSE   V. 

ON  THE  SYMPATHY  THAT  IS  FELT  FOR  MAN  IN  THE  DISTANT  PLACES  OF  CREATION. 

•!  I  say  unto  you,  that  likewise  joy  shall  be  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  more  ' 

than  over  ninety  and  nine  just  persons  which  need  no  repentance." — Luke  xv.  7.      .         .         390 

DISCOURSE   VI. 

ON  THE  CONTEST  FOR  AN  ASCENDENCY  OVER  MAN,  AMONG  THE  HIGHER  ORDERS  OF 

INTELLIGENCE. 

"  And  having  spoiled  principalities  and  powers,  he  made  a  show  of  them  openly,  triumphing 
over  them  in  it." — Col.  ii.  15. 396 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

DISCOURSE   VII. 

ON  THE  SLENDER  INFLUENCE  OF  MERE  TASTE  AND  SENSIBILITY  IN  MATTERS  OF 

RELIGION. 

"  And  lo !  thou  art  unto  them  as  a  very  lovely  song  of  one  that  hath  a  pleasant  voice,  and 
can  play  well  on  an  instrument;  for  they  hear  thy  words,  but  they  do  them  not." — Ezkkikl 
xxxiii.  32. 401 

APPENDIX 410 


OCCASIONAL   SERMONS,   &c. 
SERMON. 

PREACHED    BEFORE    THE    SOCIETY    FOR    RELIEF    OF    THE    DESTITUTE    SICK. 

"  Blessed  is  he  that  considereth  the  poor ;  the  Lord  will  deliver  him  in  time  of  trouble.'' — 
Psalm  xli.  1 .        .        .        .        176 

SERMON. 

THOUGHTS    ON    UNIVERSAL    PEACE. 

"  Nation  shall  not  lift  up  sword  against  nation,  neither  shall  they  learn  war  any  more." — 
Isaiah  xi.  4.      .        . 185 

AN  ADDRESS  TO  THE  INHABITANTS  OF  THE  PARISH  OF  KILMANY. 

THE    DUTY    OF    GIVING    AN    IMMEDIATE    DILIGENCE    TO    THE    BUSINESS    OF    THE 

CHRISTIAN    LIFE.  194 

THE  INFLUENCE  OF  BIBLE  SOCIETIES  ON  THE  TEMPORAL  NECESSITIES  OF  THE  POOR.      210 

SERMON. 

PREACHED    BEFORE    THE    SOCIETY    IN    SCOTLAND    FOR    PROPAGATING    CHRISTIAN 

KNOWLEDGE. 

"  And  Nathaniel  said  unto  him,  Can  there  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  1  Philip 
saith  unto  him,  come  and  see." — John  i.  46 291 

SERMON. 

DELIVERED    ON    THE    DAY    OF    THE    FUNERAL    OF    THE    PRINCESS    CHARLOTTE    OF 

WALES. 

"  For  when  thy  judgments  are  in  the  earth,  the  inhabitants  of  the  world  will  learn  right- 
eousness."— Isaiah  xxvi.  9 229 

SERMON. 

THE  DOCTRINE  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  APPLIED  TO  THE  CASE  OF  RELIGIOUS 
DIFFERENCES. 

"  And  why  heholdest  thou  the  mote  that  is  in  thy  brother's  eye,  but  considerest  not  the 
beam  that  is  in  thine  own  eye  1 — Or  how  wilt  thou  say  to  thy  brother,  Let  me  pull  out  the 
mote  out  of  thine  eye  ;  and  behold  a  beam  is  thine  own  eye  1  Thou  hypocrite !  first  cast  out 
the  beam  out  of  thine  own  eye,  and  then  shalt  thou  see  clearly  to  cast  out  the  mote  out  of  thy 
brother's  eye." — Matt.  vii.  3,  4,  5. 240 

SERMON. 

ON    CRUELTY    TO    ANIMALS. 

"A  righteous  man  regardeth  the  life  of  his  beast."— Prov.  xii.  10.  ...        251 


/ 


SERMONS 


ON  THE 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


PREFACE. 

The  doctrine  which  is  most  urgently,  and  most  frequently  insisted  on  in  the 
following  volume,  is  that  of  the  depravity  of  human  nature;  and  it  were  certainly 
cruel  to  expose  the  unworthiness  of  man  for  the  single  object  of  disturbing  him. 
But  the  cruelty  is  turned  into  kindness,  when,  along  with  the  knowledge  of  the 
disease,  there  is  offered  an  adequate  and  all-powerful  remedy.  It  is  impossible  to 
have  a  true  perception  of  our  own  character,  in  the  sight  of  God,  without  feeling 
our  need  of  acquittal ;  and  in  opposition  to  every  obstacle,  which  the  justice  of 
God  seems  to  hold  out  to  it,  this  want  is  provided  for  in  the  Gospel.  And  it  is 
equally  impossible,  to  have  a  true  perception  of  the  character  of  God,  as  being 
utterly  repugnant  to  sin,  without  feeling  the  need  of  amendment ;  and  in  opposition 
to  every  obstacle,  which  the  impotency  of  man  holds  out  to  it,  this  want  is  also 
provided  for  in  the  Gospel.  There  we  bthold  the  amplest  securities  for  the  peace 
of  the  guilty.  But  there  do  we  also  behold  securities  equally  ample  for  their 
progress,  and  their  perfection  in  holiness.  Insomuch,  that  in  every  genuine 
disciple  of  the  New  Testament,  we  not  only  see  one  who,  delivered  from  the 
burden  of  his  fears,  rejoices  in  hope  of  a  coming  glory — but  we  see  one  who,  set 
free  from  the  bondage  of  corruption,  and  animated  by  a  new  love  and  a  new  desire, 
is  honest  in  the  purposes,  and  strenuous  in  the  efforts,  and  abundant  in  the  works 
of  obedience.  He  feels  the  instigations  of  sin,  and  in  this  respect  he  differs  from 
an  angel.  But  he  follows  not  the  instigations  of  sin,  and  in  this  respect  he  differs 
from  a  natural  or  unconverted  man.  He  may  experience  the  motions  of  the 
flesh — but  he  walks  not  after  the  flesh.  So  that  in  him  we  may  view  the  picture 
Of  a  man,  struggling  with  effect  against  his  earth-born  propensities,  and  yet 
hateful  to  himself  for  the  very  existence  of  them — holier  than  any  of  the  people 
around  him,  and  yet  humbler  than  them  all — realizing,  from  time  to  time,  a  posi- 
tive increase  to  the  grace  and  excellency  of  his  character,  and  yet  becoming  more 
tenderly  conscious  every  day  of  its  remaining  deformities — gradually  expanding 
in  attainment  as  well  as  in  desire,  towards  the  light  and  the  liberty  of  heaven, 
and  yet  groaning  under  a  yoke  from  which  death  alone  will  fully  emancipate  him. 

When  time  and  space  have  restrained  an  author  of  sermons  from  entering  on 
what  may  be  called  the  ethics  of  Christianity, — it  is  the  more  incumbent  on  him 
to  avouch  of  the  doctrine  of  the  gospel,  that  while  it'  provides  directly  for  the 
peace  of  a  sinner,  it  provides  no  less  directly  and  efficiently  for  the  purity  of  his 
practice — that  faith  in  this  doctrine  never  terminates  in  itself,  but  is  a  mean  to  holi- 
ness as  an  end — and  that  he  who  truly  accepts  of  Christ,  as  the  alone  foundation  of 
his  meritorious  acceptance  before  God,  is  stimulated,  by  the  circumstances  of  his  new 
condition,  to  breathe  holy  purposes,  and  to  abound  in  holy  perfoimances.  He  is 
created  anew  unto  goodworks.  Heismadethe  workmanshipofGod  in  Christ  Jesus. 

The  anxious  enforcement  of  one  great  lesson  on  the  part  of  a  writer,  generally 
proceeds  from  the  desire  to  effect  a  full  and  adequate  conveyance,  into  the  mind 
of  another,  of  some  truth  which  has  filled  his  own  mind,  by  a  sense  of  its  im- 
portance ;  and,  in  offering  this  volume  to  the  public,  the  author  is  far  from  being 
insensible  to  the  literary  defects  that  from  this  cause  may  be  charged  upon  it. 
He  knows,  in  particular,  that  throughout  these  discourses  there  is  a  frequent 


12 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


fsERM. 


recurrence  of  the  same  idea,  though  generally  expressed  in  different  language, 
and  with  some  new  speciality,  either  in  its  bearing  or  in  its  illustration.  And  he 
further  knows,  that  the  habit  of  expatiating  on  one  topic  may  be  indulged  to  such 
a  length,  as  to  satiate  the  reader,  and  that,  to  a  degree,  far  beyond  the  limits  of 
his  forbearance. 

And  yet,  if  a  writer  be  conscious  that,  to  gain  a  reception  for  his  favorite  doc- 
trine, he  must  combat  with  certain  elements  of  opposition,  in  the  taste,  or  the 
pride,  or  the  indolence,  of  those  whom  he  is  addressing,  this  will  only  serve  to 
make  him  the  more  importunate,  and  so  to  betray  him  still  farther  into  the  fault 
of  redundancy.  If  the  lesson  he  is  urging  be  of  an  intellectual  character,  he  will 
labour  to  bring  it  home,  as  nearly  as  possible,  to  the  understanding.  If  it  be  a 
moral  lesson,  he  will  labour  to  bring  it  home,  as  nearly  as  possible,  to  the  heart. 
It  is  difficult,  and  it  were  hard  to  say  in  how  far  it  would  be  right,  to  restrain 
this  propensity  in  the  pulpit,  where  the  high  matters  of  salvation  are  addressed 
to  a  multitude  of  individuals,  who  bring  before  the  minister  every  possible  variety 
of  taste  and  of  capacity ;  and  it  it  no  less  difficult,  when  the  compositions  of  the 
pulpit  are  transferred  to  the  press,  to  detach  from  them  a  peculiarity  by  which 
their  whole  texture  may  be  pervaded,  and  thus  to  free  them  from  what  may  be 
counted  by  many  to  be  the  blemish  of  a  very  great  and  characteristic  deformity. 

There  is,  however,  a  difference  between  such  truths  as  are  merely  of  a  specu- 
lative nature,  and  such  as  are  allied  with  practice  and  moral  feeling  ;  and  much 
ought  to  be  conceded  to  this  difference.  With  the  former,  all  repetition  may 
often  be  superfluous ;  with  the  latter,  it  may  just  be  by  earnest  repetition,  that 
their  influence  comes  to  be  thoroughly  established  over  the  mind  of  an  inquirer. 
And,  if  so  much  as  one  individual  be  gained  over  in  this  way  to  the  cause  of 
righteousness,  he  is  untrue  to  the  spirit  and  to  the  obligations  of  his  office, 
who  would  not,  for  the  sake  of  this  one,  willingly  hazard  all  the  rewards,  and  all 
the  honours  of  literary  estimation. 

And,  if  there  be  one  truth  which,  more  than  another,  should  be  habitually 
presented  to  the  notice,  and  proposed  to  the  conviction  of  fallen  creatures,  it  is 
the  humbling  truth  of  their  own  depravity.  This  is  a  truth  which  may  be  re- 
cognized and  read  in  every  exhibition  of  unrenewed  nature  ;  but  it  often  lurks 
under  a  specious  disguise,  and  it  is  surely  of  the  utmost  practical  importance  to 
unveil  and  elicit  a  principle,  which,  when  admitted  into  the  heart,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  great  basis  of  a  sinner's  religion. 


SERMON  I. 
The  Necessity  of  the  Spirit  to  give  Effect  to  the  Preaching  of  the  Gospel. 

"  And  my  speech,  and  my  preaching,  was  not  with  enticing  words  of  man's  wisdom,  but  in  demonstration 
of  the  Spirit  and  of  power  :  that  your  faith  should  not  stand  in  the  wisdom  of  man  but  in  the  power  of 
God." — 1  Corinthians,  ii.  4,  5, 


Paul,  in  his  second  epistle  to  the  Co- 
rinthians has  expressed  himself  to  the  same 
effect  as  in  the  text,  in  the  following  words : 
"  Not  that  we  are  sufficient  of  ourselves  to 
think  any  thing  as  of  ourselves;  but  our 
sufficiency  is  of  God  ;  who  also  hath  made 
us  able  ministers  of  the  New  Testament; 
not  of  the  letter,  but  of  the  Spirit." 

In  both  these  passages,  the  Apostle  points 
to  a  speciality  in  the  work  of  a  Christian 
teacher, — a  something  essential  to  its  suc- 
cess, and.  which  is  not  essential  to  the  pro- 
ficiency of  scholars  in  the  ordinary  branches 
of  education, — an  influence  that  is  beyond 


the  reach  of  human  power  and  human  wis- 
dom ;  and  to  obtain  which,  immediate  re- 
course must  be  had,  in  the  way  of  prayer 
and  dependence,  to  the  power  of  God.  With- 
out attempting  a  full  exposition  of  these  dif- 
ferent verses,  we  shall,  first,  endeavour  to 
direct  your  attention  to  that  part  of  the  work 
of  a  Christian  teacher,  which  it  has  in  com- 
mon with  any  other  kind  of  education  ;  and, 
secondly,  offer  a  few  remarks  on  the  spe- 
ciality that  is  adverted  to  in  the  text. 

I.  And  here  it  must  be  admitted,  that 
even  in  the  ordinary  branches  of  human 
learning,  the  success  of  the  teacher,  on  the 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


I-] 


one  hand,  and  the  proficiency  of  the  scho- 
lars on  the  other,  are  still  dependent  on  the 
will  of  God.  It  is  true,  that  in  this  case, 
we  are  not  so  ready  to  feel  our  depend- 
ence. God  is  apt  to  be  overlooked  in  all 
those  cases  where  he  acts  with  uniformity. 
Wherever  we  see,  what  we  call,  the  opera- 
tion of  a  law  of  nature,  we  are  apt  to  shut 
our  eyes  against  the  operation  of  his  hand, 
and  faith  in  the  constancy  of  this  law,  is 
sure  to  beget,  in  the  mind,  a  sentiment  of 
independence  on  the  power  and  will  of  the 
Deity.  Now,  in  the  matters  of  human  edu- 
cation, God  acts  with  uniformity.  Let  there 
be  zeal  and  ability  on  the  part  of  the  teacher, 
and  an  ordinary  degree  of  aptitude  on  the 
part  of  the  taught, — and  the  result  of  their 
vigorous  and  well  sustained  co-operation 
may  in  general  be  counted  upon.  Let  the 
parent,  who  witnesses  his  son's  capacity, 
and  his  generous  ambition  for  improvement, 
send  him  to  a  well  qualified  instructor,  and 
he  will  be  filled  with  the  hopeful  sentiment 
of  his  future  eminence,  without  any  refer- 
ence to  God  whatever, — without  so  much  as 
ever  thinking  of  his  purpose  or  of  his  agency 
in  the  matter,  or  its  once  occurring  to  him 
to  make  the  proficiency  of  his  son  the  sub- 
ject of  prayer.  This  is  the  way  in  which 
nature,  by  the  constancy  of  her  operations, 
is  made  to  usurp  the  place  of  God  :  and  it 
goes  far  to  spread,  and  to  establish  the  de- 
lusion, when  we  attend  to  the  obvious  fact, 
that  a  man  of  the  most  splendid  genius  may 
be  destitute  of  piety ;  that  he  may  fill  the  office 
of  an  instiuctor  with  the  greatest  talent  and 
success,  and  yet  be  without  reverence  for 
God,  and  practically  disown  him  ;  and  that 
thousands  of  our  youth  may  issue  every  year 
warm  from  the  schools  of  Philosophy,  stored 
with  all  her  lessons,  and  adorned  with  all  her 
accomplishments,  and  yet  be  utter  strangers 
to  the  power  of  godliness,  and  be  filled  with 
an  utter  distaste  and  antipathy  for  its  name. 
All  this  helps  on  the  practical  conviction, 
that  common  education  is  a  business,  with 
which  prayer  and  the  exercise  of  depend- 
ence on  God,  have  no  concern.  It  is  true 
that  a  Christian  parent  will  see  through  the 
vanity  of  this  delusion.  Instructed  to  make 
his  requests  known  unto  God  in  all  things, 
he  will  not  depose  him  from  the  supremacy 
of  his  power  and  of  his  government  over 
this  one  thing, — he  will  commit  to  God  the 
progress  <>f  his  son  in  every  one  branch  of 
education  he  may  put  him  to, — and,  know- 
ing that  tiie  talent  of  every  teacher,  and  the 
continuance  of  his  zeal,  and  his  powers  of 
communication,  and  his  faculty  of  interest- 
ing the  attention  of  his  pupils, — that  all 
these  are  the  gifts  of  God,  and  may  be  with- 
drawn by  him  at  pleasure, — he  will  not  suf- 
fer the  regular  march  and  movement  of 
what  is  visible  or  created  to  cast  him  out  of 
his  dependence  on  the  Creator.  He  will 
see  that  everyone  element  which  enters  into 


13 


the  business  of  education,  and  conspires  to 
the  result  of  an  accomplished  and  a  well- 
informed  scholar,  is  in  the  hand  of  the  Deity, 
and  he  will  pray  for  the  continuation  of 
these  elements, — and  while  science  is  raising 
her  wondrous  monuments,  and  drawing  the 
admiration  of  the  world  after  her, — it  re- 
mains to  be  seen,  on  the  day  of  the  revela- 
tion of  hidden  things,  whether  the  prayers 
of  the  humble  and  derided  Christian,  for  a 
blessing  on  those  to  whom  he  has  confided 
the  object  of  his  tenderness,  have  not  sus- 
tained the  vigour  and  brilliancy  of  those 
very  talents  on  which  the  world  is  lavishing 
the  idolatry  of  her  praise. 

Let  us  now  conceive  the  very  ablest  of 
these  teachers,  to  bring  all  his  powers  and 
all  his  accomplishments,  to  bear  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Christianity.  Has  he  skill  in  the 
languages?  The  very  same  process  by 
which  he  gets  at  the  meaning  of  any  ancient 
author,  carries  him  to  a  fair  and  faithful  ren- 
dering of  the  scriptures  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testament.  Has  he  a  mind  enlightened 
and  exercised  on  questions  of  erudition  ? 
The  very  same  principles  which  qualify 
him  to  decide  on  the  genuineness  of  any 
old  publication,  enable  him  to  demonstrate 
the  genuineness  of  the  Bible,  and  how  fully 
sustained  it  is  on  the  evidence  of  history. 
Has  he  that  sagacity  and  comprehension  of 
talent,  by  which  he  can  seize  on  the  leading 
principles  which  run  through  the  writings 
of  some  eminent  philosopher?  This  very  ex- 
ercise may  be  gone  through  on  the  writings 
of  Inspiration;  and  the  man,  who,  with  the 
works  of  Aristotle  before  him  can  present  the 
world  with  the  best  system  or  summary  of 
his  principles,  might  transfer  these  very  pow- 
ers to  the  works  of  the  Apostles  and  Evan- 
gelists, and  present  the  world  with  a  just 
and  interesting  survey  of  the  doctrines  of 
our  faith.  And  thus  it  is,  that  the  man  who 
might  stand  the  highest  of  his  fellows  in 
the  field  of  ordinary  scholarship,  might  turn 
his  entire  mind  to  the  field  of  Christianity ; 
and,  by  the  very  same  kind  of  talent,  which 
would  have  made  him  the  most  eminent  of 
all  the  philosophers,  he  might  come  to  be 
counted  the  most  eminent  of  all  the  theolo- 
gians ;  and  he  who  could  have  reared  to  his 
fame  some  monument  of  literary  genius 
might  now,  by  the  labours  of  his  midnigh 
oil,  rear  some  beauteous  and  consistent  fabric 
of  orthodoxy,  strengthened,  in  all  its  parts, 
by  one  unbroken  chain  of  reasoning,  and 
recommended  throughout  by  the  powers  of 
a  persuasive  and  captivating  eloquence. 

So  much  for  the  talents  which  a  Christian 
teacher  may  employ,  in  common  with  other 
teachers,  and  even  though  they  did  make 
up  all  the  qualifications  necessary  for  his 
office,  there  would  still  be  a  call,  as  we  said 
before,  for  the  exercise  of  dependence  upon 
God.  Well  do  we  know,  that  both  he  and 
his  hearers  would  be  apt  to  put  their  faith 


14 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


[sERM, 


in  the  uniformity  of  nature;  and  forgetting 
that  it  is  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighn 
which  giveth  and  preserveth  the  understand- 
ing of  all  his  creatures,  might  be  tempted  to 
repose  that  confidence  in  man,  which  dis- 
places God  from  the  sovereignty  that  belongs 
to  him.  But  what  we  wish  to  prepare  you 
for,  by  the  preceding  observations,  is,  that 
you  may  understand  the  altogether  pe.culiar 
call,  that  there  is  for  dependence  on  God  in 
the  case  of  a  Christian  teacher.  We  have  made 
a  short  enumeration  of  those  talents  which 
a  teacher  of  Christianity  might  possess,  in 
common  with  other  teachers;  but  it  is  for 
the  purpose  of  proving  that  he  might  pos- 
sess them  all,  and  heightened  to  such  a  de- 
gree, if  you  will,  as  would  have  made  him 
illustrious  on  any  other  field,  and  yet  be  ut- 
terly destitute  of  powers  for  acquiring  him- 
self, or  of  experience  for  teaching  others, 
that  knowledge  of  God  and  of  Jesus  Christ 
which  is  life  everlasting. 

With  the  many  brilliant  and  imposing 
things  which  he  may  have,  there  is  one 
thing  which  he  may  not  have,  and  the  want 
of  that  one  thing  may  form  an  invincible 
barrier  to  his  usefulness  in  the  vineyard  of 
Christ.  If,  conscious  that  he  wants  it,  he 
seeks  to  obtain  from  God  the  sufficiency 
which  is  not  in  himself,  then  he  is  in  a  likely 
way  of  being  put  in  possession  of  that  power, 
which  alone  is  mighty  to  the  pulling  down 
of  strong  holds.  But  if  he,  on  the  one  hand, 
proudly  conceiving  the  sufficiency  to  be  in 
himself,  enters  with  aspiring  confidence  into 
the  field  of  argument,  and  think  that  he  is 
to  carry  all  before  him,  by  a  series  of  invin- 
cible demonstration ;  or,  if  his  people,  on 
the  other  hand,  ever  ready  to  be  set  in  mo- 
tion by  the  idle  impulse  of  novelty,  or  to  be 
seduced  by  the  glare  of  human  accomplish- 
ments, come  in  trooping  multitudes  around 
him,  and  hang  on  the  eloquence  of  his  lips, 
or  the  wisdom  of  his  able  and  profound  un- 
derstanding, a  more  unchristian  attitude 
cannot  be  conceived,  nor  shall  we  venture 
to  compute  the  weekly  accumulation  of 
guilt  which  may  come  upon  the  parties, 
when  such  a  business  as  this  is  going  on. 
How  little  must  the  presence  of  God  be  felt 
in  that  place  where  the  high  functions  of 
the  pulpit  are  degraded  into  a  stipulated  ex- 
change of  entertainment  on  the  one  side, 
and  of  admiration  on  the  other;  and  surely 
it  were  a  sight  to  make  angels  weep  when 
a  weak  and  vapouring  mortal,  surrounded 
by  his  fellow  sinners,  and  hastening  to  the 
grave  and  the  judgment  along  with  them, 
finds  it  a  dearer  object  to  his  bosom,  to  regale 
his  hearers  by  the  exhibition  of  himself,  than 
to  do  in  plain  earnest  the  work  of  his  Mas- 
ter, and  urge  on  the  business  of  repentance 
and  of  faitli  by  the  impressive  simplicities 
of  the  Gospel. 

II.  This  brings  us  to  the  second  head  of 
discourse,  under  which  we  shall  attempt  to 


give  you  a  clear  view  of  what  that  is  which 
constitutes  a  speciality  in  the  work  of  a 
Christian  teacher.  And  to  carry  you  at 
once  by  a  few  plain  instances  to  the  matter 
we  are  aiming  to  impress  upon  you,  let  us 
suppose  a  man  to  take  up  his  Bible,  and 
with  the  same  powers  of  attention  and  un 
derstanding  which  enable  him  to  compre- 
hend the  subject  of  any  other  book,  there 
is  much  in  this  book  also  which  he  will  be 
able  to  perceive  and  to  talk  of  intelligently. 
Thus,  for  example,  he  may  come,  by  the 
mere  exercise  of  his  ordinary  powers,  to 
understand  that  it  is  the  Holy  Spirit  which 
taketh  of  the  things  of  Christ  and  showeth 
them  to  the  mind  of  man.  But  is  not  his 
understanding  of  this  truth,  as  it  is  put 
down  in  the  plain  language  of  the  New 
Testament,  a  very  different  thing  from  the 
Holy  Spirit  actually  taking  of  these  things 
and  showing  them  unto  him?  Again,  he  will 
be  able  to  say,  and  to  annex  a  plain  mean- 
ing to  what  he  says,  that  man  is  rescued 
from  his  natural  darkness  about  the  things 
of  God,  by  God  who  created  the  light  out 
of  darkness  shining  in  his  heart,  and  giving 
him  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  his  glory 
in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ.  But  is  not  his 
saying  this,  and  understanding  this,  by  tak- 
ing up  these  words  in  the  same  obvious 
way  in  which  any  man  of  plain  and  honest 
understanding  would  do,  a  very  different 
thing  from  God  actually  putting  forth  his 
creative  energy  upon  him,  and  actually 
shining  upon  his  heart,  and  giving  him  that 
light  and  that  knowledge  which  are  ex- 
pressed in  the  passage  here  alluded  to? 
Again,  by  the  very  same  exercise  where- 
with he  renders  the  sentence  of  an  old  au- 
thor into  his  own  language,  and  perceives 
the  meaning  of  that  sentence,  will  he  annex 
a  meaning  to  the  following  sentence  of  the 
Bible — "  the  natural  man  receiveth  not  the 
things  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  for  they  are 
foolishness  unto  him ;  neither  can  he  know 
them,  because  they  are  spiritually  discern- 
ed." By  the  mere  dint  of  that  shrewdness 
and  sagacity  with  which  nature  has  en- 
dowed him,  he  will  perceive  a  meaning 
here  which  you  will  readily  acknowledge 
could  not  be  perceived  by  a  man  in  a  state 
of  idiotism.  In  the  case  of  the  idiot,  there 
is  a  complete  barrier  against  his  ever  ac- 
quiring that  conception  of  the  meaning  of 
this  passage,  which  is  quite  competent  to  a 
man  of  a  strong  and  accomplished  under- 
standing. For  the  sake  of  illustration,  we 
may  conceive  this  poor  outcast  from  the 
common  light  of  humanity,  in  some  unac- 
countable fit  of  attention,  listening  to  the 
sound  of  these  words,  and  making  some 
strenuous  but  abortive  attempts  to  arrive 
at  the  same  comprehension  of  them  with  a 
man  whose  reason  is  entire.  But  he  can- 
not shake  off  the  fetters  which  the  hand  of 
nature  has  laid  upon  his  understanding , 


I.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


15 


and  he  goes  back  again  to  the  dimness  and 
delirium  of  his  unhappy  situation  ;  and  his 
mind  locks  itself  up  in  the  prison-hold  of 
its  confined  and  darkened  faculties;  and  if, 
in  his  mysterious  state  of  existence,  he 
formed  any  conception  whatever  of  the 
words  now  uttered  in  your  hearing,  we  may 
rest  assured  that  it  stands  distinguished  by 
a  wide  and  impassable  chasm,  from  the 
conception  of  him,  who  has  all  the  com- 
mon powers  and  perceptions  of  the  species. 
Now,  we  would  ask  what  kind  of  con- 
ception is  that  which  a  man  of  entire  facul- 
ties may  form?  Only  grant  us  the  unde- 
niable truth,  that  he  may  understand  how 
he  cannot  discern  the  things  of  the  Spirit, 
unless  the  Spirit  reveal  them  to  him ;  and 
yet  with  this  understanding,  he  may  not  be 
one  of  those  in  behalf  of  whom  the  Spirit 
hath  actually  interposed  with  his  peculiar 
office  of  revelation  ;  and  then  you  bring 
into  view  another  barrier,  no  less  insur- 
mountable than  that  which  fixes  an  immu- 
table distinction  between  the  conceptions 
of  an  idiot  and  of  a  man  of  sense, — even 
that  wonderful  barrier  which  separates  the 
natural  from  the  spiritual  man.  You  can 
conceive  him  struggling  with  every  power 
which  nature  has  given  him  to  work  his 
way  through  this  barrier.  You  can  con- 
ceive him  vainly  attempting,  by  some  en- 
ergies of  his  own,  to  force  an  entrance 
into  that  field  of  light  where  every  object 
of  faith  has  the  bright  colouring  of  reality 
thrown  over  it, — where  he  can  command  a 
clear  view  of  the  things  of  eternity, — where 

i  spiritual  truth  comes  home  with  effect  upon 
his  every  feeling  and  his  every  conviction, — 
where  he  can  expatiate  at  freedom  over  a 
scene  of  manifestation,  which  the  world 
knoweth  not, — and  breathe  such  a  peace, 
and  such  a  joy,  and  such  a  holiness,  and 
such  a  superiority  to  time,  and  such  a  de- 
votedness  of  all  his  affections  to  the  things 
which  are  above,  as  no  man  of  the  highest 
natural  wisdom  can  ever  reach  with  all  his 
attention  to  the  Bible,  and  all  the  efforts  of 
his  sagacity,  however  painful,  to  unravel, 
and  to  compare  and  to  comprehend  its  pas- 
sages. And  it  is  indeed  a, deeply  interest- 
ing object  to  see  a  man  of  powerful  under- 
standing thus  visited  with  an  earnest  desire 
after  the  light  of  the  gospel,  and  toiling  at 
the  entrance  with  all  the  energies  which 
belong  to  him, — pressing  into  the  service 
all  the  resources  of  argument  and  philoso- 
phy,— mutetering  to  the  high  enterprise,  his 
attention,  and  his  conception,  and  his  rea- 

i  son,  and  his  imagination,  and  the  whole 
host  of  his  other  faculties,  on  which  science 
has  conferred  her  imposing  names,  and  laid 
before  us  in  such  a  pompous  catalogue,  as 
might  tempt  us  to  believe,  that  man,  by  one 
mighty  grasp  of  his  creative  mind,  can 
make  all  truth  his  own,  and  range  at  plea- 
sure over  the  wide  variety  of  her  domin- 


ions. How  natural  to  think  that  the  same 
powers  and  habits  of  investigation  which 
carried  him  to  so  respectable  a  height  in 
the  natural  sciences  will  enable  him  to  clear 
his  way  through  all  the  darkness  of  the- 
ology. It  is  well  that  he  is  seeking, — for 
if  he  persevere  and  be  in  earnest,  lie  will 
obtain  an  interest  in  the  promise,  and  will 
at  length  find ;— but  not  till  he  find,  in  the 
progress  of  those  inquiries  on  which  he  en 
tered  with  so  much  alacrity,  and  prosecuted 
with  so  much  confidence,  that  there  is  a 
barrier  between  him  and  the  spiritual  dis- 
cernment of  his  Bible,  which  all  the  powers 
of  philosophy  cannot  scale, — not  till  he  find, 
that  he  must  cast  down  his  lofty  imagina- 
tions, and  put  the  pride  of  all  his  powers 
and  his  pretensions  away  from  him, — not  till 
he  find,  that,  divested  of  those  fancies  which 
deluded  his  heart  into  a  feeling  of  its  own 
sufficiency,  he  must  become  like  a  little 
child,  or  one  of  those  babes  to  whom  God 
reveals  the  things  which  he  hides  from  the 
wise  and  from  the  prudent, — not  till  he  find, 
that  the  attitude  of  self-dependence  must  be 
broken  down,  and  he  be  brought  to  acknow- 
ledge that  the  light  he  is  aspiring  after,  is 
not  created  by  himself,  but  must  be  made 
to  shine  upon  him  at  the  pleasure  of  an- 
other,— not  in  short,  till,  humbled  by  the 
mortifying  experience  that  many  a  simple 
cottager  who  reads  his  Bible  and  loves  his 
Saviour  has  got  before  him,  he  puts  himself 
on  a  level  with  the  most  illiterate  of  them 
all,  and  prays  that  light  and  truth  may 
beam  on  his  darkened  understanding  from 
the  sanctuary  of  God. 

We  read  of  the  letter,  and  we  read  also 
of  the  spirit,  of  the  New  Testament.  It 
would  require  a  volume,  rather  than  a  sin- 
pie  paragraph  of  a  single  sermon,  to  draw 
the  line  between  the  one  and  the  other. 
But  you  will  readily  acknowledge  that  there 
are  many  things  of  this  book  which  a  man, 
though  untaught  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  may 
be  made  to  know.  One  of  the  simplest  in- 
stances is,  he  may  learn  the  number  of 
chapters  in  every  book,  and  the  number  of 
verses  in  every  chapter.  But  is  this  all? 
No, — for  by  the  natural  exercise  of  his  me- 
mory he  may  be  able  to  master  all  its  his- 
torical information.  And  is  this  all  ?  No, 
for  by  the  natural  exercise  of  his  judgment 
he  may  compare  scripture  with  scripture, — 
he  may  learn  what  its  doctrines  are,— he 
may  demonstrate  the  orthodoxy  of  every 
one  article  in  our  national  confession, — he 
may  rank  among  the  ablest  and  most  judi- 
cious of  the  commentators, — he  may  read, 
and  with  understanding,  too,  many  a  pon- 
derous volume, — he  may  store  himself  with 
the  learning  of  many  generations, — he  may 
be  familiar  with  all  the  systems,  and  have 
mingled  with  all  the  controversies, — and 
vet,  with  a  mind  supporting  as  it  docs  the 
burden  of  the  erudition  of  whole  libraries, 


16 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


he  may  have  gotten  to  himself  no  other 
wisdom  than  the  wisdom  of  the  letter  of 
the  New  Testament.  The  man's  creed,  with 
all  its  arranged  and  its  well  weighed  arti- 
cles, may  be  no  better  than  the  dry  bones 
in  the  vision  of  Ezekiel,  put  together  into  a 
skeleton,  and  fastened  with  sinews,  and 
covered  with  flesh  and  skin,  and  exhibiting 
to  the  eye  of  the  spectators,  the  aspect, 
and  the  lineaments  of  a  man,  but  without 
breath,  and  remaining  so,  till  the  Spirit  of 
God  breathed  into  it,  and  it  lived.  And  it 
is  in  truth  a  sight  of  wonder,  to  behold  a 
man  who  has  carried  his  knowledge  of 
scripture  as  far  as  the  wisdom  of  man  can 
carry  it, — to  see  him  blest  with  all  the  light 
which  nature  can  give,  but  labouring  under 
all  the  darkness  which  no  power  of  nature 
can  dispel, — to  see  this  man  of  many  ac- 
complishments, who  can  bring  his  every 
power  of  demonstration  to  bear  upon  the 
Bible,  carrying  in  his  bosom  a  heart  un- 
cheered  by  any  one  of  its  consolations,  un- 
moved by  the  influence  of  any  one  of  its 
truths,  unshaken  out  of  any  one  attachment 
to  the  world,  and  an  utter  stranger  to  those 
high  resolves,  and  the  power  of  those  great 
and  animating  prospects,  which  shed  a  glory 
over  the  daily  walk  of  a  believer,  and  give 
to  every  one  of  his  doings  the  high  charac- 
ter of  a  candidate  for  eternity. 

We  are  quite  aware  of  the  doubts  which 
this  is  calculated  to  excite  in  the  mind  of 
the  hearer, — nor  is  it  possible  within  the 
compass  of  an  hour  to  stop  and  satisfy  them 
all ;  or  to  come  to  a  timely  conclusion,  with- 
out leaving  a  number  of  unresolved  ques- 
tions behind  us. 

There  is  one,  however,  which  we  cannot 
pass  without  observation.  Does  not  this 
doctrine  of  a  revelation  of  the  Spirit,  it  may 
be  asked,  additional  to  the  revelation  of  the 
word,  open  a  door  to  the  most  unbridled 
variety  1  May  it  not  give  a  sanction  to  any 
conceptions  of  any  visionary  pretenders, 
and  clothe  in  all  the  authority  of  inspira- 
tion a  set  of  doctrines  not  to  be  found  within 
the  compass  of  the  written  record  1  Does 
it  not  set  aside  the  usefulness  of  the  Bible, 
and  break  in  upon  the  unity  and  consis- 
tency of  revealed  truth,  by  letting  loose 
upon  the  world  a  succession  of  fancies,  as 
endless  and  as  variable  as  are  the  caprices 
of  the  human  imagination  ?  All  very  true, 
did  we  ever  pretend  that  the  office  of  the 
Spirit  was  to  reveal  any  thing  additional  to 
the  information,  whether  in  the  way  of  doc- 
trine or  of  duty,  which  the  Bible  sets  before 
us.  But  his  office,  as  defined  by  the  Bible 
itself,  is  not  to  make  known  to  us  any  truths 
which  are  not  contained  in  the  Bible;  but  to 
make  clear  to  our  understandings  the  truths 
which  are  contained  in  it.  He  opens  our 
understandings  to  understand  the  Scrip- 
tures. The  word  of  God  is  called  the  sword 
of  the  Spirit.    It  is  the  instrument  by  which 


the  Spirit  worketh.  He  does  not  tell  us  any 
thing  that  is  out  of  the  record ;  but  all  that 
is  within  it  he  sends  home,  with  clearness 
and  effect,  upon  the  mind.  He  does  not 
make  us  wise  above  that  which  is  written ; 
but  he  makes  us  wise,  up  to  that  which  is 
written.  When  a  telescope  is  directed  to 
some  distant  landscape,  it  enables  us  to  see 
what  we  could  not  otherwise  have  seen; 
but  it  does  not  enable  us  to  see  any  thing 
which  has  not  a  real  existence  in  the  pros- 
pect before  us.  It  does  not  present  to  the 
eye  any  delusive  imagery, — neither  is  that  a 
fanciful  and  fictitious  scene  which  it  throws 
open  to  our  contemplation.  The  natural 
eye  saw  nothing  but  blue  land  stretching 
along  the  distant  horizon.  By  the  aid  of 
the  glass,  there  bursts  upon  it  a  charming 
variety  of  fi  Ids,  and  woods,  and  spires,  and 
villages.  Yet  who  would  say  that  the  glass 
added  one  feature  to  this  assemblage  ?  It 
discovers  nothing  to  us  which  is  not  there; 
nor,  out  of  that  portion  of  the  book  of  na- 
ture which  we  are  employed  in  contem- 
plating, does  it  bring  into  view  a  single 
character  which  is  not  really  and  previously 
inscribed  upon  it.  And  so  of  the  Spirit. 
He  does  not  add  a  single  truth,  or  a  single 
character,  to  the  book  of  revelation.  He 
enables  the  spiritual  man  to  see  what  the 
natural  man  cannot  see;  but  the  spectacle 
which  he  lays  open  is  uniform  and  immu- 
table. It  is  the  word  of  God  which  is  ever 
the  same ; — and  he,  whom  the  Spirit  of  God 
has  enabled  to  look  to  the  Bible  with  a  clear 
and  affecting  discernment,  sees  no  phantom 
passing  before  him ;  but  amid  all  the  vision- 
ary extravagance  with  which  he  is  charged, 
can,  for  every  one  article  of  his  faith,  and 
every  one  duty  of  his  practice,  make  his 
triumphant  appeal  to  the  law  and  to  the 
testimony. 

We  trust  that  this  may  be  made  clear 
by  one  example.  We  have  not  to  travel 
out  of  the  record  for  the  purpose  of  having 
this  truth  made  known  to  us, — that  God  is 
every  where  present.  It  meets  the  obser- 
vation of  the  natural  man  in  his  reading 
of  the  Bible ;  and  he  understands,  or  thinks 
be  understands,  the  terms  in  which  it  is 
delivered ;  and  he  can  speak  of  it  with  con- 
sistency; and  he  ranks  it  with  the  other 
attributes  of  God ;  and  he  gives  it  an  avowed 
and  formal  admission  among  the  articles 
of  his  creed  ;  and  yet,  with  all  this  parade 
of  light  and  knowledge,  he,  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  the  all-seeing  and  ever-present  Deity, 
labours  under  all  the  obstinacy  of  an  habit- 
ual blindness.  Carry  him  abroad,  and  you 
will  find  that  the  light  which  beams  upon 
his  senses,  from  the  object  of  sight,  com- 
pletely overpowers  that  light  which  ought 
to  beam  upon  his  spirit,  from  this  object 
of  faith.  He  may  occasionally  think  of  it 
as  he  does  of  other  things;  but  for  every 
one  practical  purpose  the  thought   aban- 


I-J 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


17 


dons  him,  so  soon  as  he  goes  into  the  next 
company  or  takes  a  part  in  the  next 
worldly  concern,  which,  in  the  course  of 
his  business,  comes  round  to  him.  It  com- 
pletely disappears  as  an  element  of  conduct, 
and  he  talks,  and  thinks,  and  reasons  just 
as  he  would  have  done,  had  his  mind,  in 
reference  to  God,  been  in  a  state  of  entire 
darkness.  If  any  thing  like  a  right  con- 
ception of  the  matter  ever  exist  in  his  heart, 
the  din  and  the  day  light  of  the  world 
drive  it  all  away  from  him.  Now,  to  recti- 
fy this  case,  it  is  surely  not  necessary,  that 
the  Spirit  add  any  thing  to  the  truth  of 
God's  omnipresence,  as  it  is  put  down  in 
the  written  record.  It  will  be  enough,  that 
he  gives  to  the  mind  upon  which  he  ope- 
rates, a  steady  and  enduring  impression  of 
this  truth.  Now,  this  is  one  part  of  his 
office,  and  accordingly  it  is  said  of  the  unc- 
tion of  the  Spirit,  that  it  is  an  unction  which 
remaineth.  Neither  is  it  necessary  that  the 
light,  which  he  communicates,  should  con- 
sist in  any  vision  which  he  gives  to  the 
eye,  or  in  any  bright  impression  upon  the 
fancy,  of  any  one  thing  not  to  be  found 
within  the  pages  of  the  Bible.  It  will  be 
enough  if  he  give  a  clear  and  vigorous  ap- 
prehension of  the  truth,  just  as  it  is  written, 
to  the  understanding.  Though  the  Spirit 
should  do  no  more  than  give  vivacity  and 
effect  to  the  truth  of  the  constancy  of  God's 
presence,  just  as  it  stands  in  the  written 
record — this  will  be  quite  enough  to  make 
the  man  who  is  under  its  influence  carry 
an  habitual  sense  of  God  about  with  him, 
think  of  him  in  the  shop  and  in  the  market- 
place, walk  with  him  all  the  day  long,  and 
feel  the  same  moral  restraint  upon  his 
doings,  as  if  some  visible  superior,  whose 
virtues  he  revered,  and  whose  approbation 
he  longed  after,  haunted  his  every  footstep, 
and  kept  an  attentive  eye  fastened  upon 
the  whole  course  of  his  history.  The  natu- 
ral man  may  have  sense,  and  he  may  have 
sagacity,  and  a  readiness  withal  to  admit 
the  constancy  of  God's  presence,  as  an  un- 
deniable doctrine  of  the  Bible.  But  to  the 
power  of  this  truth  he  is  dead ;  and  it  is 
only  to  the  power  of  this  world's  interests 
and  pleasures  that  he  is  alive.  The  spiritual 
man  is  the  reverse  of  all  this,  and  that 
without  carrying  his  conceptions  a  single 
hair  breadth  beyond  the  communications 
of  the  written  message.  He  makes  no  pre- 
tensions to  wisdom  by  one  jot  or  one  tittle 
beyond  the  testimony  of  Scripture,  and 
yet,  after  all,  he  lives  under  a  reVelation  to 
which  the  other  is  a  stranger.  It  does  not 
carry  him  by  a  single  footstep  without  the 
field  of  the  written  revelation,  but  it  throws 
a  radiance  over  every  object  within  it.  It 
furnishes  him  with  a  constant  light  which 
enables  him  to  withstand  the  domineering 
influence  of  sight  and  of  sense.  He  dies 
unto  the  world,  he  lives  unto   God, — and 


the  reason  is,  that  there  rests  upon  him  a 
peculiar  manifestation,  by  which  the  truth 
is  made  visible  to  the  eye  of  his  mind,  and 
a  peculiar  energy,  by  which  it  comes  home 
upon  his  conscience.  And  if  you  come  to 
inquire  into  the  cause  of  this  speciality,  it  is 
the  language  of  the  Bible,  confirmed,  as  we 
believe  it  to  be,  by  the  soundest  experience, 
that  every  power  which  nature  has  con- 
ferred upon  man,  exalted  to  its  highest, 
measure,  and  called  forth  to  its  most  stren- 
uous exercise  is  not  able  to  accomplish  it. — 
that  it  is  due  to  a  power  above  nature,  and 
beyond  it ;  that  it  is  due  to  what  the  Apostle 
calls  the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit, — a  de- 
monstration withheld  from  the  self-suffi- 
cient exertions  of  man,  and  given  to  his  be- 
lieving prayers. 

And  here  we  are  reminded  of  an  instruc- 
tive passage  in  the  life  of  one  of  our  earliest 
and  most  eminent  reformers.  When  the  light 
of  divine  truth  broke  in  upon  his  heart,  it 
was  so  new  and  so  delightful  to  one  form- 
erly darkened  by  the  errors  of  popery, — 
he  saw  such  a  power  and  such  an  evidence 
along  with  it, — he  was  so  ravished  by  its- 
beauties,  and  so  carried  along  by  its  resist- 
less arguments,  that  he  felt  as  if  he  had 
nothing  to  do,  but  to  brandish  those  mighty 
weapons,  that  he  might  gain  all  hearts  and 
carry  every  thing  before  him.  But  he  did 
not  calculate  on  the  stubborn  resistance  of 
corrupt  human  nature,  to  him  and  to  his 
reasonings.  He  preached  and  he  argued, 
and  he  put  forth  all  his  powers  of  eloquence 
amongst  them.  But  mortified  that  so  many 
hearts  remained  hardened,  that  so  many 
hearers  resisted  him,  that  the  doors  of  so 
many  hearts  were  kept  shut  in  spite  of  all 
loud  and  repeated  warnings,  that  so  many 
souls  remained  unsubdued,  and  dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins,  he  was  heard  to  ex- 
claim that  old  Adam  was  too  strong  for 
young  Melancthon. 

There  is  the  malignity  of  the  fall  which 
adheres  to  us.  There  is  a  power  of  cor- 
ruption and  of  blindness  along  with  it. 
which  it  is  beyond  the  compass  of  human 
means  to  overthrow.  There  is  a  dark  and 
settled  depravity  in  the  human  character. 
which  maintains  its  gloomy  and  obstinate 
resistance  to  all  our  warnings  and  all  our 
arguments.  There  is  a  spirit  working  in 
the  children  of  disobedience  which  no 
[lower  of  human  eloquence  can  lay.  There 
is  a  covering  of  thick  darkness  upon  the 
face  of  all  people,  a  mighty  influence  abroad 
upon  die  world,  with  which  the  Prince  of 
the  power  of  the  air  keeps  his  thousands 
and  his  tens  of  thousands  under  him.  The 
minister  who  enters  into  this  field  of  con- 
Hie)  may  have  zeal,  and  talents,  and  elo- 
quence. His  heart  may  be  smitten  with 
the  love  of  the  truth,  and  his  mind  be  fully 
fraught  with  its  arguments.  Thus  armed, 
he   may   come  forth   among   his   people 


I! 


DEPRAVITY   OF  HUMAN    NATURE. 


SERitf 


flushed  with  the  mighty  enterprise  of  turn- 
ing souls  from  the  dominion  of  Satan  unto 
God.  In  all  the  hope  of  victory  he  may 
discharge  the  weapons  of  his  warfare  among 
them.  Week  after  week,  he  may  reason 
with  them  out  of  the  Scriptures.  Sabbath 
after  Sabbath  he  may  declaim,  he  may  de- 
monstrate, he  may  put  forth  every  expe- 
dient, he  may  at  one  time  set  in  array  be- 
fore them  the  terrors  of  the  law,  at  another 
he  may  try  to  win  them  by  the  free  offer 
of  the  Gospel ;  and,  in  the  proud  confidence 
of  success,  he  may  think  that  nothing  can 
withstand  him,  and  that  the  heart  of  every 
hearer  must  give  way  before  the  ardour  of 
his  zeal  and  the  power  of  his  invincible 
arguments.  Yes;  they  may  admire  him, 
and  they  may  follow  him,  but  the  question 
we  have  to  ask  is,  will  they  be  converted 
by  him  ?  They  may  even  go  so  far  as  to 
allow  that  it  is  all  very  true  he  says.  He 
may  be  their  favourite  preacher,  and  when 
he  opens  his  exhortations  upon  them,  there 
may  be  a  deep  and  a  solemn  attention  in 
every  countenance.  But  how  is  the  heart 
coming  on  all  the  while?  How  do  those 
people  live,  and  what  evidence  are  they 
giving  of  being  born  again  under  the  power 
of  his  ministry  1  It  is  not  enough  to  be  told 
of  those  momentary  convictions  which  flash 
from  the  pulpit,  and  carry  a  thrilling  influ- 
ence along  with  them  through  the  hearts  of 
listening  admirers.  Have  these  hearers  of 
the  word,  become  the  doers  of  the  word  ? 
Have  they  sunk  down  into  the  character  of 
humble,  and  sanctified,  and  penitent,  and 
pains-taking  Christians  1  Where,  where  is 
the  fruit?  And  while  the  preaching  of 
Christ  is  all  their  joy,  has  the  will  of  Christ 
become  all  their  directions  1  Alas,  he  may 
look  around  him,  and  at  the  end  of  the  year, 
after  all  the  tumults  of  a  sounding  popularity, 
he  may  find  the  great  bulk  of  them  just 
where  they  were, — as  listless  and  uncon- 
cerned about  the  things  of  eternity, — as  ob- 
stinately alienated  from  God, — as  firmly 
devoted  to  selfish  and  transitory  interests, — 
as  exclusively  set  upon  the  farm,  and  the 
money,  and  the  merchandize, — and,  with 
the  covering  of  many  external  decencies,  to 
make  them  as  fair  and  plausible  as  their 
neighbours  around  them,  proving  by  a  heart 
given,  with  the  whole  tide  of  its  affections, 
to  the  vanities  of  the  world,  that  they  have 
their  full  share  of  the  wickedness  which 
abounds  in  it.  After  all  his  sermons,  and 
all  his  loud  and  passionate  addresses,  he 
finds  that  the  power  of  darkness  still  keeps 
its  ground  among  them.  He  is  grieved  to 
learn  that  all  he  has  said,  has  had  no  more 
effect,  than  the  foolish  and  the  feeble  lisp- 
ings  of  infancy.  He  is  overwhelmed  by  a 
sense  of  his  own  helplessness,  and  the  lesson 
is  a  wholesome  one.  It  makes  him  feel 
that  the  sufficiency  is  not  in  him,  but  in 
God ;  it  makes  him  understand  that  another 


power  must  be  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
mass  of  resistance  which  is  before  him ;  and 
let  the  man  of  confident  and  aspiring  genius, 
who  thought  he  was  to  assail  the  dark  seats 
of  human  corruption,  and  to  carry  them  by 
storm,  let  him  be  reduced  in  mortified  and 
dependent  humbleness  to  the  expedient  of 
the  Apostle,  let  him  crave  the  intercessions 
of  his  people,  and  throw  himself  upon  their 
prayers. 

Let  us  now  bring  the  whole  matter  to  a 
practical  conclusion.  For  the  acquirement 
of  a  saving  and  spiritual  knowledge  of  the 
gospel,  you  are  on  the  one  hand,  to  put  forth 
all  your  ordinary  powers,  in  the  very  same 
way  that  you  do  for  the  acquirement  of  . 
knowledge  in  any  of  the  ordinary  branches 
of  human  learning.  But  in  the  act  of  doing 
so,  you,  on  the  other  hand,  are  to  proceed 
on  a  profound  impression  of  the  utter  fruit- - 
lessness  of  all  your  endeavours,  unless  God 
meet  them  by  the  manifestations  of  his 
Spirit.  In  other  words,  you  are  to  read 
your  Bible,  and  to  bring  your  faculties  of 
attention,  and  understanding,  and  memory, 
to  the  exercise,  just  as  strenuously  as  if 
these  and  these  alone  could  conduct  you  to 
the  light  after  which  you  are  aspiring.  But 
you  are  at  the  same  time  to  pray  as  earn- 
estly for  this  object,  as  if  God  accomplished 
it  without  your  exertions  at  all,  instead  of 
accomplishing  it  in  the  way  he  actually 
does,  by  your  exertions.  It  is  when  your 
eyes  are  turned  toward  the  book  of  God's 
testimony,  and  not  when  your  eyes  are 
turned  away  from  it.  that  he  fulfils  upon 
you  the  petition  of  the  Psalmist, — "  Lord, 
do  thou  open  mine  eyes,  that  I  may  behold 
the  wondrous  things  contained  in  thy  law." 
You  are  not  to  exercise  your  faculties  in 
searching  after  truth  without  prayer,  else 
God  will  withhold  from  you  his  illuminating 
influences.  And  you  are  not  to  pray  for  truth, 
without  exercising  your  faculties,  else  God 
will  reject  your  prayers,  as  the  mockery  of 
a  hypocrite.  But  you  are  to  do  both,  and 
this  is  in  harmony  with  the  whole  style  of 
a  Christian's  obedience,  who  is  as  strenuous 
in  doing  as  if  his  doings  were  to  accomplish 
all,  and  as  fervent  in  prayer,  as  if  without 
the  inspiring  energy  of  God,  all  his  doings 
were  vanity  and  feebleness.  And  the  great 
Apostle  may  be  quoted  as  the  best  exam- 
ple of  this  observation. 

There  never  existed  a  man  more  active 
than  Paul,  in  the  work  of  the  Christian 
ministry.  How  great  the  weight  and  the  va- 
riety of  his  labours !  What  preaching,  what 
travelling,  what  writing  of  letters,  what  daily 
struggling  with  difficulties,  what  constant 
exercise  of  thought  in  watching  over  the 
Churches,  what  a  world  of  perplexity  in  his 
dealings  with  men,  and  in  the  hard  dealings 
of  men  with  him  ;  and  were  they  friends, 
or  were  they  enemies,  how  his  mind  be- 
hooved to  be  ever  on  the  alert,  in  counsel 


I] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


ID 


ling  the  one  and  warding  off  the  hostility 
of  the  other.  Look  to  all  that  is  visible 
in  the  life  of  this  Apostle,  and  you  see 
nothing  but  bustle,  and  enterprise,  and 
vareity.  You  see  a  man  intent  on  the  fur- 
therance of  some  great  object,  and  in  the 
prosecution  of  it,  as  ever  diligent,  and  as 
ever  doing,  as  if  the  whole  burden  of  it 
lay  upon  himself,  or  as  if  it  were  reserved 
for  the  strength  of  his  solitary  arm  to  ac- 
complish it.  To  this  object  he  conse- 
crated every  moment  of  his  time,  and  even 
when  he  set  him  down  to  the  work  of  a 
tent-maker,  for  the  sake  of  vindicating  the 
purity  of  his  intentions,  and  holding  forth 
an  example  of  honest  independence  to  the 
poorer  brethren ;  even  here,  you  just  see 
another  display  of  the  one  principle  which 
possessed  his  whole  heart,  and  gave  such  a 
t  haracter  of  wondrous  activity  to  all  the 
days  of  his  earthly  pilgrimage.  There  are 
some,  who  are  so  far  misled  by  a  kind  of 
perverse  theology  which  they  have  adopted, 
as  to  hesitate  about  the  lawfulness  of  being  di- 
ligent and  doing  in  the  use  of  means.  While 
they  are  slumbering  over  their  speculation, 
and  proving  how  honestly  they  put  faith 
in  it  by  doing  nothing,  let  us  be  guided  by 
the  example  of  the  pains-taking  and  indus- 
trious Paul,  and  remember,  that  never  since 
ihe  days  of  this  Apostle,  who  calls  upon  us 
to  be  followers  of  him,  even  as  he  was  of 
Christ, — never  were  the  labours  of  human 
exertion  more  faithfully  rendered, — never 
were  the  workings  of  a  human  instrument 
put  forth  with  greater  energy. 

But  it  forms  a  still  more  striking  part  of 
the  example  of  Paul,  that  while  he  did  as 
much  toward  the  extension  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith,  as  if  the  whole  success  of  the 
cause  depended  upon  his  doing, — he  prayed 
as  much,  and  as  fervently  for  tnis  object,  as 
if  all  his  doings  were  of  no  consequence. 
A  fine  testimony  to  the  supremacy  of  God, 
from  the  man,  who,  in  labours  was  more 
abundant  than  any  that  ever  come  after 
him,  that  he  counted  all  as  nothing,  unless 
God  would  interfere  to  put  his  blessings 
upon  all,  and  to  give  his  efficacy  to  all !  He 
who  looked  so  busy,  and  whose  hand  was 
so  constantly  engaged,  in  the  work  that 
was  before  him,  looked  for  all  his  success 
to  that  help  which  cometh  from  the  sanc- 
tuary of  God.  There  was  his  eye  directed. 
Thence  alone  did  he  expect  a  blessing  upon 
his  endeavours.  He  wrought,  and  that  with 
diligence  too,  because  God  bade  him  ;  but 
he  also  prayed,  and  that  with  equal  dili- 
gence, because  God  had  revealed  to  him, 
that  plant  as  he  may,  and  water  as  he  may, 
God  alone  giveth  the  increase.  He  did  ho- 
mage to  the  will  of  God,  by  the  labours  of 
the  ever- working  minister, — and  he  did  ho- 
mage to  the  power  of  God,  by  the  devotions 
of  the  ever-praying  minister.  He  did  not 
say,  what  signifies  my  working,  for  God 
R 


alone  can  work  with  effect  1  This  is  very 
true,  but  God  chooses  to  work  by  instru- 
ments,— and  Paul,  by  the  question,  "  Lord 
what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  expressed 
his  readiness  to  be  an  instrument  in  his 
hand.  Neither  did  he  say,  what  signifies 
my  praying,  for  I  have  got  a  work  here  to 
do,  and  it  is  enough  that  I  be  diligent  in  the 
performance  of  it.  No — for  the  power  of 
God  must  be  acknowledged,  and  a  sense  of 
his  power  must  mingle  with  all  our  per- 
formances; and  therefore  it  is  that  the 
Apostle  kept  both  working  and  praying,  and 
with  him  they  formed  two  distinct  emana- 
tions of  the  same  principle  ;  and  while  there 
are  many  who  make  these  Christian  graces 
to  neutralize  each  other,  the  judicious  and 
the  clear-sighted  Paul,  who  had  received 
the  spirit  of  a  sound  mind,  could  give  his 
unembarrassed  vigour  to  both  these  exer- 
cises, and  combine,  in  his  own  example, 
the  utmost  diligence  in  doing,  with  the 
utmost  dependence  on  him  who  can  alone 
give  to  that  doing  all  its  fruit  and  all  its 
efficacy. 

The  union  of  these  two  graces  has  at 
times  been  finely  exemplified  in  the  latter, 
and  uninspired  ages  of  the  Christian 
Church ;  and  the  case  of  the  missionary 
Elliot  is  the  first,  and  the  most  impressive 
that  occurs  to  us.  His  labours,  like  those 
of  the  great  Apostle,  were  directed  to  the 
extension  of  the  vineyard  of  Christ, — and 
he  was  among  the  very  first  who  put  forth 
his  hand  to  the  breaking  up  the  Ameri- 
can wilderness.  For  this  purpose  did  he 
set  himself  down  to  the  acquirement  of  a 
harsh  and  barbarous  language  ;  and  he  be- 
came qualified  to  confer  with  savages  ;  and 
he  grappled  for  years  with  their  untraeta- 
ble  humours ;  and  he  collected  these  wan- 
derers into  villages;  and  while  other  re- 
formers have  ennobled  their  names  by  the 
formation  of  a  new  set  of  public  laws,  did 
he  take  upon  him  the  far  more  arduous  task 
of  creating  for  his  untamed  Indians,  a  new 
set  of  domestic  habits ;  and  such  was  the 
power  of  his  influence  that  he  carried  his 
christianizing  system  into  the  very  bosom 
of  their  families :  and  he  spread  art,  and 
learning,  and  civilization  amongst  them  ; 
and  to  his  visible  labours  among  his  people 
he  added  the  labours  of  the  closet ;  and  he 
translated  the  whole  Bible  into  their  tongue; 
and  he  set  up  a  regular  provision  for  the 
education  of  their  children ;  and  lest  the 
spectator  who  saw  his  fourteen  towns  risen 
as  by  enchantment  in  the  desert,  and  peo- 
pled by  the  rudest  of  his  tribes,  should  ask 
in  vain  for  the  mighty  power  by  which 
such  wondrous  things  had  been  brought  to 
pass, — this  venerable  priest  left  his  testi- 
mony behind  him  ;  and  neither  overlooking 
the  agency  of  God,  nor  the  agency  of  man 
as  the  instrument  of  God,  he  tells  us  in  the 
one  memorable  sentence  written  by  him- 


20 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


[SERM. 


self  at  the  end  of  his  Indian  grammar,  that 
"  prayers  and  pains  through  faith  in  Christ 
Jesus  can  do  any  thing." 

The  last  inference  we  shall  draw  from  this 
topic,  is  the  duty  and  importance  of  prayer 
among  Christians,  for  the  success  of  the 
ministry  of  the  Gospel.  Paul  had  a  high 
sense  of  the  efficacy  of  prayer.  Not  ac- 
cording to  that  refined  view  of  it,  which, 
making  all  its  influence  to  consist  in  its  im- 
proving and  moralizing  effect  upon  the 
mind,  fritters  down  to  nothing  the  plain 
import  and  significancy  of  this  ordinance. 
With  him  it  was  a  matter  of  asking  and  of 
receiving.  And  just  as  when  in  pursuit  of 
some  earthly  benefit  which  is  at  the  giving 
of  another,  you  think  yourselves  surer  of 
your  object  the  more  you  multiply  the 
number  of  askers  and  the  number  of  appli- 
cations— in  this  very  way  did  he,  if  we  may 
be  allowed  the  expression,  contrive  to 
strengthen  and  extend  his  interest  in  the 
court  of  heaven.  He  craved  the  interces- 
sion of  his  people.  There  were  many  be- 
lievers formed  under  his  ministry,  and  each 
of  these  could  bring  the  prayer  of  faith  to 
bear  upon  the  counsels  of  God,  and  bring 
down  a  larger  portion  of  strength  and  of 


fitness  to  rest  on  the  Apostle  for  making 
more  believers.  It' was  a  kind  of  creative 
or  accumulating  process.  After  he  had 
travelled  in  birth  with  his  new  converts  till 
Christ  was  formed  in  them — this  was  the 
use  he  put  them  to.  It  is  an  expedient 
which  harmonizes  with  the  methods  of  Pro- 
vidence and  the  will  of  God,  who  orders  in- 
tercessions, and  on  the  very  principle  too, 
that  he  willeth  all  men  to  be  saved,  and  to 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.  The 
intercession  of  christians,  who  are  already 
formed,  is  the  leaven  Which  is  to  leaven  the 
whole  earth  with  Christianity.  It  is  one  of 
the  destined  instruments  in  the  hand  of 
God  for  hastening  the  glory  of  the  latter 
days.  Take  the  world  at  large,  and  the 
doctrine  of  intercession,  as  an  engine  of 
mighty  power,  is  derided  as  one  of  the  re- 
veries of  fanaticism.  This  is  a  subject  on 
which  the  men  of  the  world  are  in  a  deep 
slumber ;  but  there  are  watchmen  who 
never  hold  their  peace  day  nor  night,  and 
to  them  God  addresses  these  remarkable 
words,  "  Ye  that  make  mention  of  the 
Lord,  keep  not  silence,  and  give  him  no 
rest,  till  he  establish,  and  till  he  make  Jeru- 
salem a  praise  in  the  earth." 


SERMON  II. 

The  mysterious  Aspect  of  the  Gospel  to  the  Men  of  the  World. 

"  Then  said  I,  Ah,  Lord  God !  they  say  of  me,  Doth  he  not  speak  parables  V'—Ezekiel  xx.  49. 


In  parables,  the  lesson  that  is  meant  to 
be  conveyed  is  to  a  certain  degree  shaded 
in  obscurity.  They  are  associated  by  the 
Psalmist  with  dark  sayings — "  I  will  open 
my  mouth  in  a  parable,  I  will  utter  dark 
sayings  of  old."  We  read  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament of  a  parable  leaving  all  the  effect  of 
an  unexplained  mystery  upon  the  under- 
standing of  the  general  audience  to  which 
it  was  addressed ;  and  the  explanation  of 
the  parable  given  to  a  special  few  was  to 
them  the  clearing  up  of  a  mystery.  "  It  is 
given  unto  you  to  know  the  mysteries  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven;  but  to  them  it  is 
not  given  !" 

The  prophets  of  old  were  often  commis- 
sioned to  address  their  countrymen  under 
the  guise  of  symbolical  language.  This 
threw  a  veil  over  the  meaning  of  their  com- 
munications; and  though  it  was  a  veil  of 
such  transparency  as  could  be  seen  through 
by  those  who  looked  earnestly  and  atten- 
tively, and  with  a  humble  desire  to  be 
taught  in  the  will  of  God, — yet  there  was 
dimness  enough  to  intercept  all  the  moral, 
and  all  the  significancy,  from  the  minds  of 
those  who  wanted  principle  to  be  in  earnest ; 


or  who  wanted  patience  for  the  exercise  of 
attention;  or  who  wanted  such  a  concern 
about  God,  a»'  either  to  care  very  much  for 
his  will,  or  to  feel  that  any  thing  which  re- 
spected him  was  worth  the  trouble  of  a  very 
serious  investigation. 

They  who  wanted  this  concern  and  this 
principle,  from  them  was  taken  away  even 
that  which  they  had.  God  at  length  ceased 
from  his  messages,  and  the  Spirit  of  God 
ceased  from  his  warnings.  They  who  had 
the  preparation  of  all  this  docility,  to  them 
more  was  given.  Their  honest  desire  after 
knowledge,  was  rewarded  by  the  acquire- 
ment of  it.  They  continued  to  look,  and 
to  enquire,  and  at" length  they  were  illumi- 
nated ;  and  thus  was  fulfilled  the  saying  of 
the  Saviour,  that  "  whosoever  hath,  to  him 
shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  more 
abundantly, — but  whosoever  hath  not,  from 
him  shall  be  taken  away  even  that  he  hath." 

It  is  not  difficult  to  conceive  how  the  ob- 
scure intimations  of  Ezekiel  would  be  taken 
by  the  careless  and  ungodly  men  of  his 
generation.  It  is  likely  that  even  from  the 
naked  denunciations  of  vengeance  they 
would  have  turned  contemptuouslv  away. 


II.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


21 


And  it  is  still  more  likely  that  they  would 
refuse  the  impression  of  them,  when  offered 
to  their  notice,  under  a  figurative  disguise. 
It  is  not  at  all  to  be  supposed  that  they  would 
put  forth  any  activity  of  mind  in  quest  of 
that  which  they  nauseated,  and  of  that 
which,  if  ever  they  had  found,  they  would 
have  found  to  be  utterly  revolting  to  all 
their  habits  of  impiety.  They  are  the  very 
last  men  we  should  expect  to  meet  with  at 
the  work  of  a  pains-taking  search  after  the 
interpretation  of  these  parables.  Nay,  they 
would  gladly  fasien  upon  the  obscurity  of 
them  both  as  a  circumstance  of  reproach 
against  the  prophet,  and  as  an  apology  for 
their  own  indifference.  And  thus  it  is,  that 
to  be  a  teacher  of  parables  might  at  length 
become  a  scoff  and  a  by-word ;  and  the  pro- 
phet seems  to  have  felt  the  force  of  it  as  an 
opprobrious  designation,  seems  to  be  looking 
forward  to  the  mixture  of  disdain  and  impa- 
tience with  which  he  would  be  listened  to, 
when  God  charged  him  with  an  allegorical 
communication  to  his  countrymen,  and  he 
answered,  "  Ah,  Lord  God  !  they  say  of  me, 
Doth  he  not  speak  parables?" 

Now  the  question  we  have  to  put  is — Is 
there  no  similar  plea  of  resistance  ever  pre- 
ferred against  the  faithful  messengers  of 
God  in  the  present  day?  It  is  true, that  in 
our  time  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  man 
coming  amongst  you,  charged  with  the  ut- 
terance of  a  direct  and  personal  inspiration. 
But  it  is  the  business  of  every  minister  truly 
to  expound  the  record  of  inspiration ;  and 
is  it  not  very  possible  that  in  so  doing  he 
may  be  reproached,  not  for  preaching  para- 
bolically,  but  for  preaching  mysteriously? 
Have  you  never  heard  of  a  sermon  being 
called  mystical ;  and  what  shall  we  think 
of  it,  if,  in  point  of  fact,  this  imputation  falls 
most  readily  and  most  abundantly  on  the 
sermon  that  is  most  pervaded  b)*'  the  spirit, 
and  most  overrun  with  the  phraseology  of 
the  New  Testament?  In  that  composition 
there  are  certain  terms  which  recur  inces- 
santly, and  which  would  therefore  appear 
to  represent  certain  very  leading  and  promi- 
nent ideas.  Now,  whether  are  these  ideas 
clearly  and  promptly  suggested  to  your 
minrl,  by  the  utterance  of  terms?  What 
are  the  general  character  and  effect  which 
in  your  eye  is  imparted  to  a  sermon,  when, 
throughout  the  whole  of  it,  the  words  of  the 
apostolic  vocabulary  are  ever  and  anon  ob- 
truded upon  your  hearing — and  the  whole 
stress  of  the  argument  is  made  to  lie  on 
such  matters  as  sanctification ;  and  the 
atonement ;  and  the  blood  of  the  everlasting 
covenant  ;  and  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  who  takes  up  his  habitation  in  the 
soul  of  the  believer;  and  salvation  by  grace  ; 
and  the  spirit  of  adoption  poured  forth  on 
the  heart,  and  filling  it  with  all  the  peace 
and  joy  of  a  confident  reconciliation  ;  and 
the  exercise  of  fellowship  with  the  Father, 


and  the  Son ;  and  the  process  of  growing 
up  unto  Christ;  and  the  habit  of  receiving 
out  of  his  fulness,  and  of  beholding  with 
open  face  his  glory,  so  as  to  be  changed 
into  the  same  image,  from  glory  to  glory, 
even  as  by  the  spirit  of  the  Lord.  We  are 
not  at  present  asking,  if  you  feel  the  disgust 
with  which  unsubdued  nature  ever  listens 
to  these  representations,  or  in  what  degree 
they  are  offensive  to  your  taste,  and  pain- 
fully uncongenial  with  the  whole  style  and 
habit  of  your  literature.  But  we  ask,  if 
such  terms  and  such  phrases  as  have  now 
been  specified,  do  not  spread  before  the  eye 
of  your  mind  an  aspect  of  exceeding  dim- 
ness over  the  preacher's  demonstration  ? 
Does  he  not  appear  to  you  as  if  he  wrapped 
himself  up  in  the  obscurity  of  a  technical 
language,  which  you  are  utterly  at  a  loss  to 
comprehend?  When  the  sermon  in  ques- 
tion is  put  by  the  side  of  some  lesson  of 
obvious  morality,  or  some  exposition  of 
those  principles  which  are  recognized  and 
acted  upon  in  ordinary  life,  does  it  not  look 
to  you  as  if  it  was  shrouded  from  common 
observation  altogether;  and  that  ere  you 
could  be  initiated  into  the  mystery  of  such 
language  and  of  such  doctrine,  yo\i  would 
need  to  describe  a  mighty  and  still  untrod- 
den interval  from  all  your  present  habits  of 
conception  ?  And  yet,  what  if  it  be  indeed 
the  very  language  and  the  very  doctrine  of 
the  New  Testament? — if  all  the  jargon  that 
is  charged  on  the  interpretation  of  the  word 
be  the  actual  word  itself? — and  if  the 
preacher  be  faithfully  conveying  the  mes- 
sage of  the  Bible,  at  the  very  time  that  the 
hearer  is  shielding  himself  from  the  impres- 
sion of  it  by  the  saying,  that  he  preacheth 
mysteries  ? 

But  to  keep  the  two  parties  at  a  still  more 
hopeless  distance  from  each  other, — the 
message  of  such  a  preacher,  incomprehen- 
sible as  many  of  its  terms  and  many  of  its 
particulars  may  be,  evidently  bears  a  some- 
thing upon  it  that  is  fitted  to  alarm  the 
fears,  and  utterly  to  thwart  the  strongest 
tendencies  of  nature.  Let  him  be  just  a 
faithful  expounder  of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  let  the  blindness  of  the  natural 
man  be  what  it  may,  still  there  is  scarcely 
a  hearer  who  can  fail  to  perceive,  that,  an 
terior  to  the  reception  of  this  Gospel,  th 
preacher  looks  upon  him  as  the  enemy  ot 
God, — and  strongly  points  at  such  a  con- 
troversy between  him  and  his  maker,  as 
can  only  be  made  up  through  an  appointed 
Mediator — and  requires  of  him  such  a  faith 
as  will  transform  his  character,  and  as  will 
shift  the  whole  currency  of  his  affections 
and  desires — and  affirms  the  necessity  of 
such  a  regeneration,  as  that  all  old  things 
shall  be  done  away,  and  all  things  shall  be- 
come new; — and  lets  him  know,  that  to  be 
a  Christian  indeed  he  must  die  unto  sense, 
he  must  be  crucified  unto  the  world,  and, 


22 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


[SERM. 


renouncing  its  charms  and  its  predilections, 
must  learn  to  have  his  conversation  in  hea- 
ven, and  to  choose  God  as  the  strength  of 
his  heart  and  his  portion  for  evermore.  All 
this  flashes  plainly  and  significantly  enough, 
through  that  veil  of  mysticism  which  ap- 
pears to  overspread  the  general  doctrine  of 
the  preacher;  and  imparts  a  forbidding  cha- 
racter to  it  in  the  eyes  of  those  to  whom 
we  are  alluding ;  and  they  will  be  glad  of 
any  pretence  to  shun  a  painful  and  a  re- 
volting contemplation  ;  and  they  will  com- 
plain of  him  on  the  very  ground  on  which 
the  Jews  of  old  complained  of  Ezekiel,  as 
a  dealer  in  parables — and  while  much  of 
their  antipathy  is  founded  upon  his  being 
so  strict  and  so  spiritual,  and  so  unaccom- 
modating to  the  general  tone  of  society, 
one  of  the  charges  which  will  be  most  fre- 
quently and  most  loudly  preferred  against 
him,  is,  that  he  is  so  very  mysterious. 

In  the  prosecution  of  the  following  dis- 
course, we  shall  endeavour  in  the  first  place 
to  state  shortly  the  ground  on  which  the 
religion  of  the  New  Testament  looks  so 
mysterious  a  thing  to  the  men  of  the  world, 
and  then  conclude  with  a  short  practical 
remonstrance  upon  this  subject. 

I.  There  are  certain  experiences  of  hu- 
man life  so  oft  repeated,  and  so  familiar  to 
all  our  recollections,  that  when  we  per- 
ceive, or  think  we  perceive,  an  analogy  be- 
tween them  and  the  matters  of  religion, 
then  religion  does  not  appear  to  us  to  be 
mysterious.  There  is  not  a  more  familiar 
exhibition  in  society  than  that  of  a  servant 
who  performs  his  allotted  work,  and  who 
obtains  his  stipulated  reward — and  we  are 
all  servants,  and  one  is  our  master,  even 
God. 

There  is  nothing  more  common  than  that 
a  son  should  acquit  himself  to  the  satis- 
faction of  his  parents, — and  we  are  all  the 
children  of  an  universal  parent,  whom  it  is 
our  part  to  please  in  all  things.  Even  when 
that  son  falls  under  displeasure,  and  is  either 
visited  with  compunction  or  made  to  re- 
ceive the  chastisement  of  his  disobedience, 
there  is  nothing  more  common  than  to 
witness  the  relentings  of  an  earthly  father, 
and  the  readiness  with  which  forgiveness  is 
awarded  on  the  repentance  and  sorrow  of 
the  offender, — and  we,  in  like  manner,  liable 
to  err  from  the  pure  law  of  heaven,  have 
surely  a  kind  and  indulgent  Father  to  deal 
with.  And,  lastly,  there  is  nothing  more 
common  than  that  the  loyalty  of  a  zealous 
and  patriotic  subject  should  be  rewarded  by 
the  patronage,  or  at  least  by  the  protection 
of  the  civil  magistrate, — and  that  an  act  of 
transgression  against  the  laws  should  be 
visited  by  an  act  of  vengeance  on  the  part 
of  him  who  is  a  terror  to  evil-doers,  Avhile 
a  praise  to  such  as  do  well.  And  thus  it  is, 
too,  that  we  are  under  a  lawgiver  in  heaven 
who  is  able  both  to  save  and  to  destroy. 


Now  so  long  as  the  work  of  religious  in- 
struction can  be  upheld  by  such  analogies 
as  these, — so  long  as  the  relations  of  civil  or 
of  domestic  society  can  be  employed  to 
illustrate  the  relation  between  God  and  the 
creatures  whom  he  has  formed, — so  long 
as  the  recollections  of  daily  experience  can 
thus  be  applied  to  the  method  of  the  divine 
administration, — a  vein  of  perspicuity  will 
appear  to  run  through  the  clear  and  rational 
exposition  of  him  who  has  put  all  the  mist 
and  all  the  technicals  of  an  obscure  theo- 
logy away  from  him.  All  his  lessons  will 
run  in  an  easy  and  direct  train.  Nor  do  we 
see  how  it  is  possible  to  be  bewildered 
amongst  such  explanations,  as  are  sug- 
gested by  the  most  ordinary  doings  and 
concerns  of  human  society; — and  did  the 
preacher  only  confine  himself  to  such  doc- 
trine, as  that  God  rewards  the  upright,  and 
punishes  the  rebellious,  and  upon  the  im- 
pulse of  that  compassion  which  belongs  to 
him,  takes  again  the  penitent  into  accept- 
ance, and  in  the  great  day  of  remuneration, 
will  give  unto  every  man  according  to  his 
works, — did  he  only  confine  himself  to 
truths  so  palpable,  and  build  upon  it  appli- 
cations so  obvious,  as  just  to  urge  us  to  the 
performance  of  duty  by  the  promised  re- 
ward, and  deter  us  from  the  infraction  of  it 
by  the  severities  of  the  threatened  punish- 
ment, and  call  us  to  reformation  by  affec- 
tionately pleading  with  us  the  mercies  of 
God,  and  warn  us  with  all  his  force  and  ail 
his  fidelity,  that  should  we  persist  in  ob- 
stinate impenitence  we  shall  be  cut  off  from 
happiness  for  ever, — there  might  be  some- 
thing to  terrify. — but  there  would  at  least  be. 
nothing  to  darken  or  to  perplex  us  in  these 
interpretations — nothing  that  would  not 
meet  common  intelligence,  and  be  helped 
forward  by  all  the  analogies  of  common  ob- 
servation,— and  should  this  therefore  prove 
the  great  burden  of  the  preacher's  demon- 
stration, we  should  be  the  last  to  reproach 
him,  as  a  dealer  in  parables,  or  as  a  dealer 
in  mysteries. 

To  attach  us  the  more  to  this  rational 
style  of  preaching,  we  cannot  but  perceive 
that  it  obtains  a  kind  of  experimental  coun 
tenance  from  the  actual  distinctions  of  cha- 
racter which  are  realized  in  the  peopled 
world  around  us.  Can  any  thing  be  more 
evident  than  that  there  is  a  line  of  separa- 
tion between  the  sensual  and  the  temperate, 
between  the  selfish  and  the  disinterested, 
between  the  sordid  and  the  honourable;  or 
if  you  require  a  distinction  more  strictly 
religious,  between  the  profane  and  the  de- 
cent keeper  of  all  the  ordinances  ?  Do  not 
the  former  do,  what,  in  the  matter  of  it,  is 
contrary  to  the  law  of  God,  and  the  latter 
do,  what,  in  the  matter  of  it,  is  agreeable 
to  that  law  ?  Here  then  at  once  we  witness 
the  two  prand  divisions  of  human  society, 
in  a  state  of  real  and  visible  exemplification 


«■! 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


23 


— and  what  more  is  necessary  than  just  to 
employ  the  most  direct  and  intelligible  mo- 
tives of  conduct,  for  persuading  men  to 
withdraw  from  one  of  these  divisions,  and 
pass  over  to  the  other  of  them?  Surely  it 
is  just  as  we  occupy  the  higher  and  the 
lower  places  in  the  scale  of  character,  that 
we  shall  be  found  on  the  right  and  on  the 
left  hand  of  the  judge  on  the  day  of  reckon- 
ing: And  what  more  obvious  way,  then, 
of  preparing  a  people  for  eternity — than 
just  to  point  our  urgency  to  the  one  object- 
of  prevailing  upon  men  to  cross  the  line 
of  separation,  to  cease  from  the  iniquities 
which  abound  on  the  one  side  of  it,  and  to 
put  on  the  reformations  which  are  practised 
on  the  other  side  of  it  ?  For  this  purpose, 
what  else  is  to  be  done  than  plainly  to  tell 
the  whole  amount  of  the  interest  and  obli- 
gation which  lies  on  the  side  of  virtue,  and 
as  plainly  to  tell  of  the  ruin  and  the  degrada- 
tion both  of  character  and  of  prospect  which 
lie  on  the  side  of  vice— to  press  the  accom- 
plishments of  a  good  life  on  the  one  hand, 
and  to  denounce  the  falsehoods  and  the  dis- 
honesties, and  the  profligacies  of  a  bad  life 
on  the  other, — in  a  word,  to  make  our 
hearers  the  good  subjects  of  God,  much  in 
the  same  way,  as  you  would  propose  to 
make  them  the  good  servants  of  their  mas- 
ter or  the  good  subjects  of  their  govern- 
ment :  and  thus  by  the  simple  and  direct 
enforcements  of  duty,  to  shun  all  the  diffi- 
culties of  a  scholastic  theology,  and  to  keep 
clear  of  all  its  mysteriousness. 

It  is  needless  to  say  how  much  this  pro- 
cess is  reversed  by  many  a  teacher  of 
Christianity.  It  is  true  that  they  hold  out 
most  prominently  the  need  of  some  great 
transition — but  it  is  a  transition  most  mys- 
teriously different  from  the  act  of  crossing 
that  line  of  separation,  to  which  we  have 
just  been  adverting.  Without  referring  at 
all  in  fact  to  any  such  line,  do  they  come 
forth  from  the  very  outset  with  one  sweep- 
inn  denunciation  of  worthlessness  and  guilt, 
which  they  carry  round  among  all  the  va- 
rieties of  character,  and  by  which  they 
affirm  every  individual  of  the  human  race, 
to  be  an  undone  sinner  in  the  sight  of  God. 
Instead  of  bidding  him  look  to  other  sin- 
ers  less  deformed  by  blemishes,  and  more 
.ch  in  moral  accomplishments,  than  him- 
self, and  then  attempt  to  recover  his  dis- 
tance from  the  divine  favour  by  the  imita- 
tion of  them,  they  bid  him  think  of  the 
awful  amount  of  debt  and  of  deficiency 
that  lies  between  the  lawgiver  in  heaven, 
and  a  whole  world  guilty  before  him.  They 
sp^ak  of  a  depravity  so  entire,  and  of  an 
alienation  from  God,  so  deep,  and  so  uni- 
versal, as  positively  to  obliterate  that  line 
of  separation  which  is  supposed  to  mark 
off  those,  who,  upon  the  degree  of  their 
obedience,  are  rightful  claimants  to  the 
honours  of  eternity,  from  those,  who,  upon 


the  degree  of  their  disobedience,  are  wretch- 
ed outcasts  of  condemnation.  They  reduce 
the  men  of  all  casts  and  of  all  characters, 
to  the  same  footing  of  worthlessness  in  the 
sight  of  God  ;  and  speak  of  the  evil  of  the 
human  heart  in  such  terms,  as  will  sound 
to  many  a  mysterious  exaggeration,  and. 
like  the  hearers  of  Ezekiel,  will  these  not 
be  able  to  comprehend  the  argument  of  the 
preacher,  when  he  tells  them,  though  in 
the  very  language  of  the  Bible,  that  they 
are  the  heirs  of  wrath;  that  none  of  them 
is  righteous,  no  not  one;  that  all  flesh  have 
corrupted  their  ways,  and  have  fallen  short 
of  the  glory  of  God  ;  that  the  world  at  large 
is  a  lost  and  a  fallen  world,  and  that  the 
natural  inheritance  of  all  who  live  in  it,  is 
the  inheritance  of  a  temporal  death,  and  a 
ruined  eternitj^. ' 

When  the  preacher  goes  on  in  this  strain, 
those  hearers  whom  the  spirit  has  not  con- 
vinced of  sin  will  be  utterly  at  a  loss  to  un- 
derstand him, — nor  are  we  to  wonder,  if 
he  seem  to  speak  to  them  in  a  parable. 
when  he  speaks  of  the  disease, — that  all  the 
darkness  of  a  parable  should  still  seem  to 
hang  over  his  demonstrations,  when  as  a 
faithful  expounder  of  the  revealed  will  and 
counsel  of  God,  he  proceeds  to  tell  them  of 
the  remedy.  For  God  hath  not  only  made 
known  the  fearful  magnitude  of  his  reckon- 
ing against  us,  but  he  has  prescribed,  and 
with  that  authority  which  only  belongs  to 
him,  the  way  of  its  settlement ;  and  that  he 
has  told  us  all  the  works  and  all  the  efforts 
of  unrenewed  nature  are  of  no  avail  in 
gaining  us  acceptance,  and  that  he  has  laid 
the  burden  of  our  atonement  on  him  who 
alone  was  able  to  bear  it ;  and  he  not  only 
invites,  but  he  commands,  and  he  beseeches 
us  to  enter  into  peace  and  pardon  on  the 
footing  of  that  expiation  which  Christ  hath 
made,  and  of  that  righteousness  which 
Christ  hath  wrought  out  for  us ;  and  he 
further  declares,  that  we  have  come  into 
the  world  with  such  a  moral  constitution, 
as  will  not  merely  need  to  be  repaired,  but 
as  will  need  to  be  changed  or  made  over 
again,  ere  we  be  meet  for  the  inheritance 
of  the  saints;  and  still  for  this  object  does 
he  point  our  eyes  to  the  great  Mediator  who 
has  undertaken,  no1  merely  for  the  forgive- 
ness, but  who  has  undertaken  for  the  sancti- 
ficationof  all  who  put  their  trust  in  him  ;and 
he  announces  that  out  of  his  fulness  there 
ever  come  forth  supplies  of  strength  for  th< 
new  obedience  of  new  creatures  in  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord.  Now,  it  is  when  the 
preacher  is  unfolding  this  scheme  of  salva- 
tion,— it  is  when  he  is  practically  applying 
it  to  the  conscience  and  the  conduct  of  his 
bearers, —  it  is  when  the  terms  of  grace,  and 
faith,  and  sanctification,  are  pressed  into 
frequent  employment  for  the  work  of  these 
very  peculiar  explanations, — it  is  when,  in- 
stead of  illustrating  his  subject  by  those 


24 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


[SER.M. 


analogies  of  common  life  which  might  have 
done  for  men  of  an  untainted  nature,  but 
which  will  not  do  for  the  men  of  this  cor- 
rupt world,  he  faithfully  unfolds  that  econo- 
my of  redemption  which  God  hath  actually 
set  up  for  the  recovery  of  our  degenerate 
species, — it  is  then,  that  to  a  hearer  still  in 
darkness,  the  whole  argument  sounds  as 
strangely  and  as  obscurely,  as  if  it  were 
conveyed  to  him  in  an  unknown  language, 
— it  is  then,  that  the  repulsion  of  his  nature 
to  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  finds  a  willing 
excuse  in  the  utter  mysteriousness  of  its 
articles,  and  its  terms ;  and  gladly  does  he 
put  away  from  him  the  unwelcome  mes- 
sage, with  the  remark,  that  he  who  delivers 
it,  is  a  speaker  of  parables,  and  there  is  no 
comprehending  him. 

It  will  readily  occur  as  an  observation 
upon  all  that  has  been  delivered,  that  by  the 
great  majority  of  hearers,  this  imputation 
of  mysteriousness  is  never  preferred, — that 
in  fact,  they  are  most  habituated  to  this 
style  of  preaching, — and  that  they  recognise 
the  very  thing  which  they  value  most,  and 
are  best  acquainted  with,  when  they  hear 
a  sermon  replete  with  the  doctrine,  and 
abounding  in  the  terms,  and  uttered  in  the 
cadence  of  orthodoxy.  Of  this  we  are  per- 
fectly aware.  The  point  to  carry  with  the 
great  bulk  of  hearers  is,  not  to  conquer 
their  disgust  at  tflTe  form  of  sound  words, 
but  to  conquer  their  resistance  to  the  power 
of  them ;  to  alarm  them  by  the  considera- 
tion, that  the  influence  of  the  lesson  is  alto- 
gether a  distinct  matter  from  the  pleasant- 
ness of  the  song, — that  their  ready  and  de- 
lighted acquiescence  in  the  preaching  of  the 
faith,  may  consist  with  a  total  want  of  obe- 
dience to  the  faith, — and  that  with  all  the 
love  they  bear  to  the  phraseology  of  the 
gospel,  and  all  their  preference  for  its  minis- 
ters, and  all  their  attendance  upon  its  sacra- 
ments, the  kingdom  of  God,  however  much 
it  may  have  come  to  them  in  word,  may 
not  at  all  have  come  to  them  in  power. 
This  is  a  distinct  error  from  the  one  Ave 
have  been  combating, — a  weed  which  grows 
abundantly  in  another  quarter  of  the  field 
altogether, — a  perverseness  of  mind,  more 
deceitful  than  the  other,  and  perhaps  still 
more  unmanageable,  and  against  which 
the  faithful  minister  has  to  set  himself 
amongst  that  numerous  class  of  professors, 
who  like  to  hear  of  the  faith,  but  never  ap- 
ply a  single  practical  test  to  the  question, 
Am  I  in  the  faith?  who  like  to  hear  of  re- 
generation, but  never  put  the  question,  Am 
I  really  regenerated?  who  like  to  hear  that 
without  Christ  they  can  do  nothing,  but 
may  be  enabled  to  do  all  things  through 
him  strengthening  them,  but  never  enter  into 
the  important  personal  inquiry,  Is  he  really 
strengthening  me,  and  am  I,  by  my  actual 
victory  over  the  world,  and  my  actual  pro- 
gress in  the  accomplishments  of  personal 


Christianity,  bearing  evidence  upon  myself 
that  I  have  a  real  part  and  interest  in  these 
things? 

There  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  existence 
of  such  a  class, — and  under  another  text, 
there  could  be  no  difficulty  in  finding  out  a 
spiritual  application,  by  which  to  reach  and 
to  reprove  them.  But  the  matter  suggested 
by  the  present  text  is,  that  if  a  minister  of 
the  present  day  should  preach  as  the  Apos- 
tles did  before  him, — if  the  great  theme  of 
his  ministrations  be  Jesus  Christ,  and  him 
crucified, — if  the  doctrine  of  the  sermon  be 
a  faithful  transcript  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
New  Testament, — there  is  one  class,  we 
have  every  warrant  for  believing,  from 
whom  the  word  will  not  return  unto  him 
void, — and  there  is  another  class  who  will 
be  the  willing  hearers,  but  not  the  obe- 
dient doers  of  the  word:  but  there  is  still  a 
third  class,  made  up  of  men  of  cultivated 
literature,  and  men  of  polished  and  respec- 
table society,  and  men  of  a  firm  secular  in- 
telligence in  all  the  ordinary  matters  of  bu- 
siness, who,  at  the  same  time,  possessing 
no  sympathies  whatever  with  the  true  spirit 
and  design  of  Christianity,  are  exceedingly 
shut  up,  in  all  the  avenues  both  of  their 
heart  and  understanding,  against  the  pecu- 
liar teaching  of  the  gospel.  Like  the  hearers 
of  Ezekiel,  they  feel  an  impression  of  mys- 
teriousness. There  is  a  certain  want  of 
adjustment  between  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Je 
sus,  and  the  prevailing  style  of  their  con 
ceptions.  All  their  views  of  human  life, 
and  all  the  lessons  they  may  have  gathered 
from  the  school  of  civil  or  classical  mo- 
rality, and  all  their  preferences  for  what 
they  count  the  clearness  and  the  ration- 
ality of  legal  preaching,  and  all  the  pre- 
dilections they  have  gotten  in  its  favour, 
from  the  most  familiar  analogies  in  human 
society, — all  these,  coupled  with  their  utter 
blindness  to  the  magnitude  of  that  guilt 
which  they  have  incurred  under  the  judg- 
ment of  a  spiritual  law,  enter  as  so  many 
elements  of  dislike  in  their  hearts,  towards 
the  whole  tone  and  character  of  the  peculiar 
doctrines  of  Christianity.  And  they  go  to 
envelope  the  subject  in  such  a  shroud  of 
mysticism  to  their  eyes,  that  many  of  the 
preachers  of  the  gospel  are,  by  them,  resist- 
ed on  the  same  plea  with  the  prophet  of  old, 
to  whom  his  contemptuous  countrymen 
meant  to  attach  the  ridicule  and  the  igno- 
miny of  a  proverb,  when  they  said, — he  is 
a  dealer  in  parables. 

We  mistake  the  matter,  if  we  think  that 
the  offence  of  the  cross  has  yet  ceased  from 
the  land.  We  mistake  it,  if  we  think  that 
the  persecution  of  contempt,  a  species  of 
persecution  more  appalling  to  some  minds 
than  even  direct  and  personal  violence,  is 
not  still  the  appointed  trial  of  all  who  would 
live  godly,  and  of  all  who  would  expound 
zealously  and    honestly  the    doctrine  of 


»■] 


DEPRAVITA  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


Christ  Jesus  our  Lord.  We  utterly  mis- 
take it,  if  we  think  that  Christianity  is  not 
even  to  this  very  hour  the  same  very  peculiar 
thing  that  it  was  in  the  days  of  the  Apos- 
iles, — that  it  does  not  as  much  signalize 
and  separate  us  from  a  world  lying  in  wick- 
edness,— that  the  reproach  cast  upon  Paul, 
that  he  was  mad,  because  he  was  an  intrepid 
follower  of  Christ,  is  not  still  ready  to  be 
preferred  against  every  faithful  teacher,  and 
every  consistent  disciple  of  the  faith, — and 
that,  under  the  terms  of  methodism,  and 
fanaticism,  and  mysticism,  there  is  not  rea- 
dy to  be  discharged  upon  them  from  the 
thousand  batteries  of  a  hostile  and  unbe- 
lieving world,  as  abundant  a  shower  of  in- 
vective and  contumely  as  in  the  first  ages. 

II.  Now,  if  there  be  any  hearers  present 
who  feel  that  we  have  spoken  to  them, 
when  we  spoke  of  the  resistance  which  is 
held  out  against  peculiar  Christianity,  on 
the  ground  of  that  mysteriousness  in  which 
it  appears  to  be  concealed  from  all  ordinary 
discernment, — we  should  like  to  take  our 
leave  of  them  at  present  with  two  observa- 
tions. We  ask  them,  in  the  first  place,  if 
they  have  ever,  to  the  satisfaction  of  their 
own  minds,  disproved  the  Bible, — and  if 
not,  we  ask  them  how  they  can  sit  at  ease, 
should  all  the  mysteriousness  which  they 
charge  upon  Evangelical  truth,  and  by 
which  they  would  attempt  to  justify  their 
contempt  for  it,  be  found  to  attach  to  the 
very  language,  and  to  the  very  doctrine 
of  God's  own  communication  1  What  if  it 
be  indeed  the  truth  of  God  ?  What  if  it  be 
the  very  language  of  the  offended  lawgiver? 
What  if  they  be  the  only  overtures  of  re- 
conciliation, upon  the  acceptance  of  which 
a  sinner  can  come  nigh  unto  him?  Now  he 
actually  does  say  that  no  man  cometh  unto 
the  Father  but  by  the  Son, — and  that  his 
is  the  only  name  given  under  heaven 
whereby  men  can  be  saved, — and  that  he 
will  be  magnified  only  in  the  appointed 
.Mediator, — and  that  Christ  is  all  in  all, — 
and  that  there  is  no  other  foundation  on 
which  man  can  lay,  and  that  he  who  be- 
lieveth  on  him  shall  not  be  confounded. 

He  further  speaks  of  our  personal  prepa- 
ration for  heaven — and  here,  too,  may  his 
utterance  sound  mysteriously  in  your  hear- 
ing, as  he  tells  that  without  holiness  no  man 
can  see  God, — and  that  we  are  withoul 
strength  while  we  are  without  the  Spirit  to 
make  us  holy — and  that  unless  a  man  be 
born  again  he  shall  not  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  God, — and  that  he  should  wrestle 
m  prayer  for  the  washing  of  regeneration 
— and  that  he  should  watch  for  the  Holy 
Ghost  with  all  perseverance, — and  that  he 
should  aspire  at  being  perfect  through 
Christ  strengthening  him — and  that  he 
should,  under  the  operation  of  those  great 
provisions  which  are  set  up  in  the  New 
Testament  for  creating  us  anew  unto  good 


works,  conform  himself  unto  that  doctrine 
of  grace  by  which  he  is  brought  to  deny  un- 
godliness and  worldly  lusts,  and  to  live  so- 
berly, righteously,  and  godly  in  the  present 
evil  world.  We  again  ask  them,  if  all  this 
be  offensive  to  their  taste,  and  utterly  re- 
volting to  their  habits  and  inclinations,  and 
if  they  turn  with  disgust  from  the  bitter- 
ness of  such  an  application,  and  can  behold 
no  strength  to  constrain  them  in  any  such 
arguments,  and  no  eloquence  to  admire  in 
them.  With  what  discernment  truly  is 
your  case  taken  up  in  this  very  Bible, 
whose  phraseology  and  whose  doctrine  are 
so  unpalatable  to  you,  when  it  tells  us  of 
the  preaching  of  the  cross  being  foolish- 
ness,— but  remember  that  it  says  it  is  fool- 
ishness to  those  who  perish  :  when  it  tells 
of  the  natural  man  not  receiving  of  the 
things  of  the  Spirit, — but  remember  that  it 
says,  if  ye  have  not  the  Spirit  of  God,  ye 
are  none  of  his  ;  when  it  tells  of  the  gospel 
being  hid, — but  hid  to  them  who  are  lost : 
"  In  whom  the  God  of  this  world  hath 
blinded  the  minds  of  those  which  believe 
not,  lest  the  light  of  the  glorious  gospel  of 
Christ,  who  is  the  image  of  God,  should 
shine  unto  them." 

Secondly,  let  us  assure  the  men,  who  at 
this  moment  bid  the  stoutest  defiance  to  the 
message  of  the  gospel — the  men  whose  na- 
tural taste  appears  to  offer  an  invincible 
barrier  against  the  reception  of  its  truths, 
the  men  who,  upon  the  plea  of  mysterious- 
ness, or  the  plea  of  fanaticism,  or  the  plea 
of  excessive  and  unintelligible  peculiarity, 
are  most  ready  to  repudiate  the  whole  style 
and  doctrine  of  the  New  Testament, — let  us 
assure  them  that  the  time  may  yet  come, 
when  they  shalljrender  to  this  very  gospel 
the  most  striking  of  all  acknowledgments, 
even  by  sending  to  the  door  of  its  most 
faithful  ministers,  and  humbly  craving 
from  them  their  explanations  and  their 
prayers.  It  indeed  offers  an  affecting  con- 
trast to  all  the  glory  of  earthly  prospects, 
and  to  all  the  vigour  of  confident  and  re- 
joicing health,  and  to  all  the  activity  and 
enterprize  of  business,  when  the  man  who 
made  the  world  his  theatre,  and  felt  his 
mountain  to  stand  strong  on  the  fleeting 
foundation  of  its  enjoyments  and  its  con 
cerns, — when  he  comes  to  be  bowed  down 
with  infirmity,  or  receives  from  the  trouble 
within,  the  solemn  intimation  that  death  is 
now  looking  to  him  in  good  earnest:  When 
such  a  man  takes  him  to  the  b^d  of  sick- 
ness, and  he  knows  it  to  be  a  sickness  unto 
death, — when,  under  all  the  weight  of 
breathlessness  and  pain,  he  listens  to  the 
man  of  God,  as  he  points  the  way  that 
leadeth  to  eternity, — what,  I  would  ask,  is 
the  kind  of  gospel  that  is  most  fitted  to 
charm  the  sense  of  guilt  and  the  anticipa- 
tions of  vengeance  away  from  him?  Sure 
we  are,  that  we  never  in   these   affecting 


2G 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


[SF.RM. 


circumstances — through  which  you  have  all 
to  pass — we  never  saw  the  man  who  could 
maintain  a  stability,  and  a  hope,  from  the 
sense  of  his  own  righteousness ;  but  who, 
if  leaning  on  the  righteousness  of  Christ, 
could  mix  a  peace  and  an  elevation  with 
his  severest  agonies.  We  never  saw  the 
expiring  mortal  who  could  look  with  an  un- 
daunted eye  on  God  as  his  lawgiver ;  but 
often  has  all  its  languor  been  lighted  up 
with  joy  at  the  name  of  Christ  as  his  Sa- 
viour. We  never  saw  the  dying  acquaint- 
ance, who  upon  the  retrospect  of  his  virtues 
and  of  his  doings,  could  prop  the  tranquilli- 
ty of  his  spirit  on  the  expectation  of  a  legal 
reward.  O  no !  this  is  not  the  element 
which  sustains  the  tranquillity  of  death- 
beds. It  is  the  hope  of  forgiveness.  It  is  a 
believing  sense  of  the  efficacy  of  the  atone- 
ment. It  is  the  prayer  of  faith,  offered  up 
in  the  name  of  him  who  is  the  captain  of 
all  our  salvation.  It  is  a  dependence  on  that 
power  which  can  alone  impart  a  meetness 
for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints,  and  present 
the  spirit  holy,  and  unreproveable,  and  un- 
blamable, in  the  sight  of  God, 

Now,  what  we  have  to  urge  is,  that  if  these 
be  the  topics,  which,  on  the  last  half  hour 
of  your  life,  are  the  only  ones  that  will 
possess,  in  your  judgment,  any  value  or 


substantial  importance,  why  put  them  away 
from  you  now  ?  You  will  recur  to  them 
then;  and  for  what?  that  you  may  get  the 
forgiveness  of  your  sins.  But  there  is  a 
something  else  you  must  get,  ere  you  can 
obtain  an  entrance  into  peace  or  glory. 
You  must  get  the  renovation  of  that  nature, 
which  is  so  deeply  tainted  at  this  moment 
with  the  guilt  of  ingratitude  and  forgetful- 
ness  towards  God.  This  must  be  gone 
through  ere  you  die;  and  say  if  a  change  so 
mighty  should  be  wantonly  postponed  to 
the  hour  of  dying  ? — when  all  your  refusals 
of  the  gospel  have  hardened  and  darkened 
the  mind  against  it;  when  a  demonstration 
of  the  Spirit  then,  is  surely  not  to  be  counted 
on,  as  the  return  that  you  will  experience  for 
resisting  all  his  intimations  now;  when  the 
effects  of  the  alienation  of  a  whole  life,  both 
in  extinguishing  the  light  of  your  con- 
science, and  in  riveting  your  distaste  for 
holiness,  will  be  accumulated  into  such  a' 
barrier  in  the  way  of  your  return  to  God, 
as  stamps  upon  death-bed  conversions,  a 
grievous  unlikelihood,  and  should  give 
an  imperious  force  to  the  call  of  "  To- 
day,"— "  while  it  is  called  to-day,  harden 
not  your  hearts,  seeing  that  now  is  your 
accepted  time,  and  now  is  your  day  of 
salvation." 


SERMON  III. 


The  Preparation  necessary  for  Understanding  the  Mysteries  of  the  Gospel. 

"  He  answered  and  said  unto  them,  Because  it  is  given  unto  you  to  know  the  mysteries  of  tho  kingdom  of 
heaven,  but  to  them  it  is  not  given.  For  whosoever  hath,  to  him  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  more 
abundance;  but  whosoever  hath  not,  from  him  shall  be  taken  even  that  he  hath." — Matthew  xi.l.  11, 12. 


It  is  of  importance  to  mark  the  principle 
of  distribution  on  which  it  is  given  to  some 
to  know  the  mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  and  it  is  not  given  to  others.  Both 
may  at  the  outset  be  equally  destitute  of  a 
clear  understanding  of  these  mysteries.  But 
the  former  may  have  what  the  latter  have 
not.  With  the  former  there  may  be  a  de- 
sire for  explanation ;  with  the  latter  there 
may  be  no  such  desire.  The  former  may, 
in  the  earnest  prosecution  of  this  desire,  be 
praying  earnestly,  and  reading  diligently, 
and  striving  laboriously,  to  do  all  that  they 
know  to  be  the  will  of  God.  With  the  latter, 
there  may  be  neither  the  habit  of  prayer, 
nor  the  habit  of  inquiry,  nor  the  habit  of 
obedience.  To  the  one  class  will  be  given 
what  they  have  not.  From  the  other  class 
what  they  have  shall  be  taken  away.  We 
have  already  attempted  to  excite  in  the  latter 
class  a  respectful  attention  to  the  truths  of 
the  gospel,  and  shall  now  confine  ourselves 
chiefly  to  the  object  of  encouraging  and  di- 


recting those  who  feel  the  mysteriousness  of 
these  truths,  and  long  for  light  to  arise  in 
the  midst  of  it ; — shall  address  ourselves  to 
those  who  have  an  honest  anxiety  after 
that  truth,  which  is  unto  us  salvation,  but 
find  the  way  to  it  beset  with  many  doubts 
and  many  perplexities, — to  those  who  are 
impressed  with  a  general  conviction  on 
the  side  of  Scripture,  but  in  whose  eyes  a 
darkness  impenetrable  still  broods  over  its 
pages, — to  those  who  are  haunted  by  a 
sense  of  the  imperious  necessity  of  religion, 
and  at  the  same  time  cannot  escape  from 
the  impression,  that  if  it  is  any  where  to  be 
found,  it  is  to  be  found  within  the  records 
of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  but  from 
whose  heart  in  the  reading  of  these  records 
the  veil  still  remains  untaken  away. 

In  the  further  prosecution  of  this  dis- 
course, let  us  attempt,  in  the  first  place,  to 
explain  what  it  is  that  we  ought  to  have,  in 
order  to  attain  an  understanding  of  the  mys- 
teries of  the  gospel;  and,  in  the  second 


III.J 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


27 


place,  how  it  is  that  in  many  cases  these 
mysteries  are  evolved  upon  the  mind  in  a 
clear  and  convincing  manifestation. 

I.  First,  then,  we  ought  to  have  an  honest 
desire  after  light ;  and  if  we  have  this  desire, 
it  will  not  remain  unproductive.  There  is 
a  connexion  repeatedly  announced  to  us  in 
Scripture  between  desire  upon  this  subject, 
and  its  accomplishment.  He  that  willeth 
to  do  the  will  of  God  shall  know  of  my 
doctrine.  He  who  hungereth  and  thirsteth 
shall  be  filled.  He  who  lacketh  wisdom  and 
is  desirous  of  obtaining  it,  let  him  vent  his 
desire  in  prayer, — and  if  it  be  the  prayer  of 
confidence  in  God,  his  desire  shall  be  given 
him.  There  are  thousands  to  whom  the 
Bible  is  a  sealed  book,  and  who  are  satis- 
fied that  it  should  remain  so,  who  share  in 
the  impetuous  contempt  of  the  Pharisees 
against  a  doctrine  to  which  they  are  alto- 
gether blind,  who  have  no  understanding  of 
the  matter,  and  no  wish  that  it  should  be 
otherwise, — and  unto  them  it  will  not  be 
given  to  know  the  mysteries  of  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  They  have  not,  and  from 
them  therefore  shall  be  taken  away  even 
that  which  they  have.  There  are  others, 
again,  who  have  an  ardent  and  unquencha- 
ble thirst  after  the  mysteries  of  the  gospel; 
who,  like  the  prophet  in  the  apocalypse, 
weep  much  because  the  book  is  not  opened 
tii  them  ;  who  complain  of  darkness,  like 
the  Apostles  of  old  when  they  expostulated 
with  their  Teacher  because  he  spoke  in 
parables,  and,  like  them,  who  go  to  him  with 
their  requests  for  an  explanation.  These 
shall  find  that  what  they  cannot  do  for 
themselves,  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah 
will  do  for  them.  He  will  prevail  to  open 
the  book,  and  to  loose  the  seals  thereof. 
There  is  something  they  already  have, 
even  an  honest  wish  to  be  illuminated,  and 
to  this  more  will  be  given.  They  are  awake 
te>  the  disirableness,  they  are  awake  to  the 
necessity  of  a  revelation,  which  they  have 
not,  yet  gotten, — and  to  them  belongs  the 
promise  of,  Aw.ike,  O  sinner,  and  Christ 
shall  give  thee  light. 

Secondly,  We  ought  to  have  a  habit  of 
prayer  conjoined  with  a  habit  of  inquiry; 
and  to  this  more  will  be  given.  We  have 
:  adverted  to  the  circumstance,  that 
it  is  in  the  Bible,  and  not  out  of  the  Bible, 
where  this  light  is  to  be  met  with.  It  is  by 
the  Spirit  of  God,  shining  upon  the  word 
of  God,  that  his  truth  is  reflected  with 
clearness  upon  the  soul.  It  is  by  his  opera- 
tion that  the  characters  of  this  book  are 
m;n!e  ';>  stand  as  visibly  out  to  the  eye  of 
the  understanding, as  they  do  to  the  eyeof 
the  body  ;  and  therefore  it  is  evident  that  it 
is  not  in  the  act  of  looking  away  from  the 
written  revelation,  but  in  the  act  of  looking 
towards  it,  that  the  wished-for  illumination 
will  at  length  come  into  the  mind  of  an 
inquirer.     Let  your  present  condition  then 


be  that  of  a  darkness  as  helpless  and  as 
unattainable  as  can  possibly  be  imagined, 
there  still  remains  an  obvious  and  practica- 
ble direction  which  you  can  be  doing  with 
in  the  mean  time.  You  can  persevere  in 
the  exercise  of  reading  your  Bible.  There 
you  are  at  the  place  of  meeting  etween 
the  Spirit  of  God  and  your  own  spirit. 
You  may  have  to  wait,  as  if  at  the  pool  of 
Siloam  ;  but  the  many  calls  of  the  Bible  to 
wait  upon  God,  to  wait  upon  him  with  pa- 
tience, to  wait  and  to  be  of  good  courage,  all 
prove  that  this  waiting  is  a  frequent  and 
a  familiar  part  of  that  process  by  which  a 
sinner  finds  his  way  out  of  darkness  into 
the  marvellous  light  of  the  gospel. 

And  we  have  also  adverted  already, 
though  in  a  very  general  way,  to  the  dif- 
ference in  point  of  result  between  the  active 
inquiries  of  a  man  who  looks  forward  to 
the  acquisition  of  saving  truth  as  the  natural 
and  necessary  termination  of  his  inquiries, 
and  of  a  man  who  mingles  with  every  per- 
sonal attempt  after  this  object,  the  exercise 
of  prayer,  and  a  reverential  sense  of  his 
dependence  on  God.  The  latter  is  just  as 
active,  and  just  as  inquisitive  as  the  former. 
The  difference  between  them  does  not  lie 
in  the  one  putting  forth  diligence  without 
a  feeling  of  dependence,  and  the  other  feel- 
ing dependence,  without  a  putting  forth  of 
diligence.  He  who  is  in  the  right  path  to- 
wards the  attainment  of  light,  combines 
both  these  properties. 

It  is  through  the  avenues  of  a  desirous 
heart  and  of  an  exercised  understanding, 
and  of  sustained  attention,  and  of  faculties 
in  quest  of  truth,  and  labouring  after  the 
possession  of  it,  that  God  sends  into  the 
mind  his  promised  manifestations.  All  this 
exercise  on  the  one  hand,  without  such  an 
acknowledgement  of  him  as  leads  to  prayer, 
will  be  productive  of  nothing  in  the  way 
of  spiritual  discernment.  And  prayer,  with- 
out this  exercise,  is  the  mere  form  and 
mockery  of  an  acknowledgement.  He  who 
calls  upon  us  to  hearken  diligently,  when 
he  addresses  us  by  a  living  voice,  does  in 
effect  call  upon  us  to  read  and  to  ponder 
diligently  when  he  addresses  us  by  a  writ- 
ten message.  To  ask  truth  of  God,  while 
we  neglect  to  do  for  this  object  what  he 
bids  us,  is  in  fact  not  to  recognize  God,  but 
to  insult  him.  It  is  to  hold  out  the  appear- 
ance of  presenting  ourselves  before  him, 
while  we  are  not  doing  it  at  the  place  of 
meeting,  which  he  has  assigned  for  us.  It 
is  to  address  an  imaginary  Being,  whom 
we  have  invested  with  a  character  of  our 
own  conception,  and  not  the  Being  who 
bids  us  search  his  Scriptures,  and  incline 
unto  his  testimonies,  and  stir  ourselves  up 
that  we  may  lay  hold  of  him.  Such  prayer 
is  utterance,  and  nothing  more.  It  wants 
all  the  substantial  characters  of  prayer.  It 
may  amount  to  the  seeking  of  those  who 


28 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


shall  not  be  able  to  enter  the  strait  gate.  It 
falls  short  of  the  striving  of  those  who  take 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  by  force,  and  of 
whom  that  kingdom  suffereth  violence. 

He  who  without  prayer  looks  confidently 
forward  to  success  as  the  fruit  of  his  own 
investigations,  is  not  walking  humbly  with 
God.  If  he  were  humble  he  would  pray. 
But  whether  is  he  the  more  humble,  who 
joins  with  a  habit  of  prayer  all  those  ac- 
companying circumstances  which  God  hath 
prescribed,  or  he  who,  in  neglect  of  these 
circumstances,  ventures  himself  into  his 
presence  in  the  language  of  supplication? 
There  may  be  the  show  of  humility  in  con- 
fiding the  whole  cause  of  our  spiritual  and 
saving  illumination  to  the  habit  of  praying 
for  it  to  God.  But  if  God  himself  tells  us, 
that  we  must  read,  and  seek,  and  meditate, 
then  it  is  no  longer  humility  to  keep  by  the 
solitary  exercise  of  praying.  It  is,  in  fact, 
keeping  pertinaciously  by  our  own  way, 
heedless  of  his  will  and  his  way  altogether. 
It  is  approaching  God  in  the  pride  of  our 
own  understanding.  It  is  detaching  from 
the  whole  work  of  seeing  after  him  some 
of  those  component  parts  which  he  himself 
hath  recommended.  In  the  very  act  of 
making  prayer  stand  singly  out  as  alone 
instrument  of  success,  we  are  in  fact  draw- 
ing the  life  and  the  spirit  out  of  prayer 
itself;  and  causing  it  to  wither  into  a  thing 
of  no  power  and  no  significancy  in  the  sight 
of  God.  It  is  not  the  prayer  of  acknow- 
ledgement, unless  it  comes  from  him  who 
acknowledges  the  will  of  God  in  other  things 
as  well  as  in  prayer.  It  is  not  the  prayer 
of  submission  unless  it  comes  from  the  heart 
of  a  man  who  manifests  a  principle  of  sub- 
mission in  all  things. 

Thirdly,  We  ought  to  do  all  that  we 
know  to  be  God's  will ;  and  to  this  habit  of 
humble  earnest  desirous  reformation,  more 
will  be  given. 

We  trust  that  what  has  been  said  will 
prepare  you  for  the  reception  of  another 
advice  besides  that  of  reading  or  praying 
for  the  attainment  of  that  manifestation 
which  you  are  in  quest  of, — and  that  is, 
doing.  There  is  an  alarm  raised  in  many 
a  heart  at  the  very  suggestion  of  doing  for 
an  inquirer,  lest  he  should  be  misled  as  to 
the  ground  of  his  justification  ;  lest  among 
the  multitude  or  the  activity  of  his  works, 
he  should  miss  the  truth,  that  a  man  is  ac- 
cepted, not  through  the  works  of  the  law, 
but  by  faith  in  Jesus  Christ;  lest  by  every 
one  performance  of  duty,  he  should  just  be 
adding  another  stone  to  the  fabric  of  a  de- 
lusive confidence,  and  presumptuously  try 
to  force  his  own  way  to  heaven,  without 
the  recognition  of  the  gospel  or  any  of  its 
peculiarities.  Now,  doing  stands  precisely 
in  the  same  relation  to  prayer  that  reading 
does.  Without  the  one  or  the  other  it  is 
the  prayer  either  of  presumption  or  hypo- 


crisy. If  he  both  read  and  pray,  it  is  far 
more  likely  that  he  will  be  brought  unto  the 
condition  of  a  man  being  justified  through 
faith  in  Christ,  than  that  he  will  rest  his 
hopes  before  God  in  the  mere  exercise  of 
reading.  If  he  both  do  and  pray,  it  is  far 
more  likely  that  he  will  come  to  be  esta- 
blished in  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  as 
the  foundation  of  all  his  trust,  than  that  he 
will  rest  upon  his  own  righteousness.  For 
a  man  to  give  up  sin  at  the  outset,  is  just  to 
do  what  God  wills  him  at  the  outset.  For  a 
man  at  the  commencement  of  his  inquiries, 
to  be  strenuous  in  the  relinquishment  of  all 
that  he  knows  to  be  evil,  is  just  to  enter  on 
the  path  of  approach  towards  Christ,  in  the 
very  way  that  Christ  desires  him.  He  who 
cometh  unto  me  must  forsake  all.  For  a 
man  to  put  forth  an  immediate  hand  to  the 
doing  of  the  commandments,  while  he  is 
groping  his  way  towards  a  firm  basis  on 
which  he  might  rear  his  security  before 
God,  is  not  to  deviate  or  diverge  from  the 
Saviour.  He  may  do  it  with  an  eye  of  most 
intense  earnestness  towards  the  Saviour, — 
and  while  the  artificial  interpreter  of  Christ's 
doctrine  holds  him  to  be  wrong,  Christ  him- 
self may  recognize  him  to  be  one  of  those 
who  keep  his  sayings,  and  to  whom  there- 
fore he  stands  pledged  to  manifest  himself. 
The  man  in  fact  by  strenuously  doing,  is 
just  the  more  significantly  and  the  more 
energetically  praying.  He  is  adding  one  in- 
gredient to  the  business  of  seeking,  without 
which  the  other  ingredient  would  be  in 
God's  sight  an  abomination.  He  is  strug- 
gling against  all  regard  to  iniquity  in  his 
heart,  seeing  that  if  he  have  this  regard  God 
will  not  hear  him.  To  say.  that  it  is  danger- 
ous to  tell  a  man  in  these  circumstances  to 
do,  lest  he  rest  in  his  doings,  and  fall  short 
of  the  Saviour,  is  to  say,  that  it  would  be 
dangerous  to  place  a  man  on  the  road  to  his 
wished-for  home,  lest,  when  he  has  got  upon 
the  road,  he  should  stand  still  and  be  satisfied. 
The  more,  in  fact,  that  the  man's  conscience 
is  exercised  and  enlightened  (and  what  more 
fitted  than  wilful  sin  to  deafen  the  voice  of 
conscience  altogether?)  the  less  will  it  let 
him  alone,  and  the  more  will  it  urge  him 
onward  to  that  righteousness  which  is  the 
only  one  commensurate  to  God's  law,  and 
in  which  alone  the  holy  and  inflexible  God 
can  look  upon  him  with  complacency.  Let 
him  humbly  betake  himself,  then,  to  the 
prescribed  path  of  reading,  and  prayer,  and 
obvious  reformation, — and  let  us  see  if  there 
do  not  evolve  upon  his  mind,  in  the  prosecu- 
tion of  it,  the  worthlessness  of  all  that  man 
can  do  for  his  meritorious  acceptance  with 
the  Lawgiver — and  the  deep  ungodliness 
of  character  which  adheres  to  him — and 
the  suitableness  of  Christ's  atonement  to  all 
his  felt  necessities,  and  all  his  moral  aspi- 
rations— and  the  need  in  which  he  stands 
of  a  regenerating  influence,  to  make  him  a 


III.J 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


29 


willing  and  a  spiritual  subject  of  God.  Let 
us  see  whether,  though  the  light  which  he 
at  length  receives  be  marvellous,  the  way  is 
not  plain  which  leads  to  it;  and  whether 
though  nature  be  compassed  about  with  a 
darkness  which  no  power  of  nature  can 
dissipate, — there  is  not  a  clear  and  obvious 
procedure,  by  the  steps  of  which  the  most 
alienated  of  her  children  may  be  carried  on- 
wards to  all  the  manifestation  of  the  king- 
dom of  grace,  and  to  the  discernment  of  all 
its  mysteries. 

Though  to  the  natural  eye,  then,  the  doc- 
trine of  Christ  be  not  plain,  the  way  is  plain 
by  which  we  arrive  at  it.  Though,  ere  we 
see  the  things  of  Christ,  the  Spirit  must 
take  of  them  and  show  them  unto  us, — yet 
this  Spirit  deals  out  such  admonitions  to  all, 
that,  if  we  follow  them,  he  will  not  cease  to 
enlarge,  and  to  extend  his  teaching,  till  we 
have  obtained  a  saving  illumination.  He  is 
given  to  those  who  obey  him.  He  abandons 
those  who  resist  him.  When  conscience 
tells  us  to  read,  and  to  pray,  and  to  reform, 
it  is  he  who  is  prompting  this  faculty.  It  is 
he  who  is  sending  through  this  organ,  the 
whispers  of  his  own  voice  to  the  ear  of  the 
inner  man.  If  we  go  along  with  the  move- 
ment, he  will  follow  it  up  by  other  move- 
ments. He  will  visit  him  who  is  the  willing 
subject  of  his  first  influences  by  higher  de- 
monstrations. He  will  carry  forward  his 
own  work  in  the  heart  of  that  man,  who, 
while  acting  upon  the  suggestions  of  his 
own  moral  sense,  is  in  fact  acting  in  con- 
formity to  the  warnings  of  this  kind  and 
faithful  monitor.  So  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
will  connect  his  very  first  impulses  on  the 
mind  of  that  inquirer,  who,  under  the  reign 
of  earnestness,  has  set  himself  to  read  his 
Bible,  and  to  knock  with  importunity  at  the 
door  of  heaven,  and  to  forsake  the  evil  of 
his  ways,  and  to  turn  him  to  the  practice 
of  all  that  he  knows  to  be  right, — the  Spirit 
will  connect  these  incipient  measures  of  a 
seeker  after  Zion,  with  the  acquirement  of 
wisdom  and  revelation  in  the  knowledge  of 
Christ. 

Let  it  not  be  said,  then,  that  because  the 
doctrine  of  Christ  is  shrouded  in  mystery 
to  the  general  eye  of  the  world,  it  is  such  a 
mystery  as  renders  it  inaccessible  to  the 
men  of  the  world.  Even  to  them  does  the 
trumpet  of  invitation  blow  a  certain  sound. 
They  may  not  yet  see  the  arcana  of  the 
temple,  but  they  may  see  the  road  which 
leads  to  the  temple.  If  they  are  never  to 
obtain  admission  there,  it  is  not  because 
they  cannot,  but  because  they  will  not, 
come  to  it.  "Ye  will  not  come  to  me," 
says  the  Saviour,  "  that  ye  might  have  life," 
Reading,  and  prayer,  and  reformation,  these 
are  all  obvious  things ;  and  it  is  the  neglect 
of  these  obvious  things  which  involves  them 
in  the  guilt  and  the  ruin  of  those  who  ne- 
glect the  great  salvation.    This  salvation  is 


to  be  found  of  those  who  seek  after  it.  The 
knowledge  (if  God  and  of  Jesus  Christ, 
which  is  life  everlasting  is  a  knowledge 
open  and  acquirable  to  all.  And,  on  the 
day  of  judgment,  there  will  not  he  found  a 
single  instance  of  a  man  condemned  be- 
cause of  unbelief,  who  sought  to  the  utter- 
most of  his  opportunities ;  and  evinced  the 
earnestness  of  his  desire  after  p  :ace  with 
God,  by  doing  all  that  he  might  have  done, 
and  by  being  all  that  lie  might  have  been. 

Be  assured,  then,  that  it  will  be  for  want 
of  seeking,  if  you  do  not  find.  It  will 
be  for  want  of  learning,  if  you  are  not 
taught.  It  will  be  for  want  of  obedience 
to  the  movements  of  your  own  conscience, 
if  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  prompts  and  who 
stimulates  the  conscience  to  all  its  move- 
ments, be  not  poured  upon  you,  in  one  large 
and  convincing  manifestation.  It  may  still 
be  the  day  of  small  things  with  you — a  day 
despised  by  the  accomplished  adepts  of  a 
systematic  and  articled  theology.  But  God 
will  not  despise  it.  He  will  not  leave  your 
longings  for  ever  unsatisfied.  He  will  not 
keep  you  standing  always  at  the  threshold 
of  vain  desires  and  abortive  endeavours. 
That  faith,  which  is  the  gift  of  God,  you 
have  already  attained,  in  a  degree,  if  you 
have  obtained  a  general  conviction  of  the 
importance  and  the  reality  of  the  whole 
matter.  He  will  increase  that  faith.  Act 
up  to  the  light  that  you  have  gotten  by 
reading  earnestly,  and  praying  importu- 
nately, and  striving  laboriously, — and  to 
you  more  will  be  given.  You  will  at  length 
obtain  a  clear  and  satisfying  impression 
of  the  things  of  God,  and  the  things  of 
salvation.  Christ  will  be  recognised  in  all 
his  power  and  in  all  his  preciousness.  You 
will  know  what  it  is  to  be  established  upon 
him.  The  natural  legality  of  your  hearts 
will  give  way  to  the  pure  doctrine  of  accep- 
tance with  God,  through  faith  in  the  blood 
of  a  crucified  Saviour.  The  sanctifying  in- 
fluence of  such  a  faith  will  not  merely  be 
talked  of  in  word,  but  be  experienced  in 
power;  and  you  will  evince  that  you  are 
God's  workmanship  in  Christ  Jesus,  by 
your  abounding  in  all  those  fruits  of  righ- 
teousness which  are  through  him,  to  the 
praise  and  glory  of  the  Father. 

II.  We  shall  now  attempt  to  explain, 
how  it  is  that  the  mysteries  of  the  gospel 
are,  in  many  cases,  evolved'  upon  the 
mind  in  a  clear  and  convincing  manifesta- 
tion. 

And  here  let  it  be  distinctly  understood, 
that  the  way  in  many  cases  may  be  v  en- 
far  from  the  way  in  all  cases.  The  expe- 
rience of  converts  is  exceedingly  various, — 
nor  do  we  know  a  more  frequent,  and  at 
the  same  time  a  more  groundless  cause  of 
anxiety,  than  that  by  which  the  mind  of  an 
inquirer  is  often  harassed,  when  he  at- 
tempts to  realize  the  very  process  by  whish 


30 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


another  has  been  called  out  of  darkness  to 
the  marvellous  light  of  the  gospel. 

Referring,  then,  to  those  grounds  of  mys- 
teriousness  which  we  have  already  specified 
in  a  former  discourse, — God  may  so  mani- 
fest himself  to  the  mind  of  an  inquirer,  as 
to  convince  him,  that  all  those  analogies  of 
common  life  which  are  taken  from  the  re- 
lation of  a  servant  to  his  master,  or  of  a 
son  to  his  father,  or  of  a  subject  to  his  sove- 
reign, utterly  fail  in  the  case  of  man,  as  he 
is  by  nature,  in  relation  to  his  God.  A  ser- 
vant may  discharge  all  his  obligations ;  a 
son  may  acquit  himself  of  all  his  duties,  or 
may,  with  his  occasional  failures,  and  his 
occasional  chastisements,  still  keep  his 
place  in  the  instinctive  affection  of  his  pa- 
rents ;  and  a  subject  may  persevere  in  un- 
seduced  loyalty  to  the  earthly  government 
under  which  he  lives.  But  the  glaring  and 
the  demonstrable  fact  with  regard  to  man, 
viewed  as  a  creature,  is,  that  the  habit  of 
his  heart  is  one  continued  habit  of  dislike 
and  resistance  to  the  Creator  who  gave  him 
birth. 

The  earthly  master  may  have  all  those 
services  rendered  to  which  he  has  a  right, 
and  so  be  satisfied.  The  earthly  father  may 
have  all  the  devotedness,  and  all  the  attach- 
ment from  his  family,  which  he  can  desire, 
and  so  be  satisfied.  The  earthly  sovereign 
may  have  all  that  allegiance  from  a  loyal 
subject,  who  pays  his  taxes,  and  never 
transgresses  his  laws,  which  he  expects  or 
cares  for,  and  so  be  satisfied.  But  go  up- 
ward from  them  to  the  God  who  made  us, — 
to  the  God  who  keeps  us, — to  the  God  in 
whom  we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our 
being, — to  the  God  whose  care  and  whose 
presence  are  ever  surrounding  us,  who, 
from  morning  to  night,  and  from  night 
to  morning,  watches  over  us,  and  tends  us 
while  we  sleep,  and  guides  us  in  our  waking 
moments,  and  follows  us  to  the  business  of 
the  world,  and  brings  us  back  in  safety  to 
our  homes,  and  never  for  a  single  instant 
of  time  withdraws  from  us  the  superintend- 
ence of  an  eye  that  never  slumbers,  and  of 
a  hand  that  is  never  weary.  Now,  all  we 
require  is  a  fair  estimate  of  the  claims  of 
such  a  God.  Does  he  ask  too  much,  when 
he  asks  the  affections  of  a  heart  that  receives 
its  every  beat,  and  its  every  movement, 
from  the  impulse  of  his  power  ?  Does  he 
ask  too  much,  when  he  asks  the  devoted- 
ness of  a  life,  which  owes  its  every  hour 
and  its  every  moment  to  him,  whose  right 
hand  preserves  us  continually  ?  Has  he 
no  right  to  complain,  when  he  knocks  at  the 
door  of  our  hearts,  and  trying  to  possess 
himself  of  the  love  and  the  confidence  of 
his  own  creatures,  he  finds  that  all  their 
thoughts,  and  all  their  pursuits,  and  all 
likings,  are  utterly  away  from  him?  Is 
there  no  truth,  and  no  justice  in  the  charge 
which  he  prefers  against  us. — when,  sur- 


rounded as  we  are  by  the  gifts  of  nature 
and  of  providence,  all  of  which  are  his,  the 
giver  is  meanwhile  forgotten,  and,  amid  the 
enjoyments  of  his  bounty,  we  live  without 
him  in  the  world.  If  it  indeed  be  true,  that 
it  is  his  sun  which  lights  us  on  our  path,  and 
his  earth  on  which  we  tread  so  firmly,  and 
his  air  which  circulates  a  freshness  around 
our  dwellings,  and  his  rain  which  produces 
all  the  luxuriance  that  is  spread  around  us, 
and  drops  upon  every  field  the  smiling  pro- 
mise of  abundance  for  all  the  wants  of  his 
dependent  children, — if  all  this  be  true,  can 
it  at  the  same  time  be  right,  that  this  all- 
providing  God  should  have  so  little  a  place 
in  our  remembrance?  that  the  whole  man 
should  be  otherwise  engaged  than  with  a 
sense  of  him,  and  the  habitual  exercise  of 
acknowledgment  to  him  ?  that  in  fact  the 
full  play  of  his  regards  should  be  expended 
on  the  things  which  are  formed,  and  through 
the  whole  system  of  his  conduct  and  his 
affairs,  there  should  be  so  utter  a  neglect  of 
him  who  formed  them  ?  Surely  if  this  be 
the  true  description  of  man,  and  the  cha- 
racter of  his  heart  in  reference  to  God,  then 
it  is  a  case  of  too  peculiar  a  nature  to  be 
illustrated  by  any  of  the  analogies  of  human 
society.  It  must  be  taken  up  on  its  own 
grounds ;  and  should  the  injured  and  of- 
fended Lawgiver  offer  to  make  it  the  subject 
of  any  communication,  it  is  our  part  hum- 
bly to  listen  and  implicitly  to  follow  it. 

And  here  it  is  granted,  that  amongst  the 
men  who  are  utter  strangers  to  this  com- 
munication, you  meet  with  the  better  and 
the  worse ;  and  that  there  is  an  obvious 
line  of  distinction  which  marks  off  the  base 
and  the  worthless  amongst  them,  from  those 
of  them  who  are  the  valuable  and  the  ac- 
complished members  of  society.  And  yet 
do  we  aver  that  one  may  step  over  that  line 
and  not  be  nearer  than  he  was  to  God. — 
that,  between  the  men  on  either  side  of  it, 
and  Him  who  created  them,  there  lies  an 
untrodden  gulf  of  separation, — that,  with 
all  the  justice  which  rules  their  transac- 
tions, and  all  the  honour  which  animates 
their  bosoms,  and  all  the  compassion  which 
warms  their  hearts,  and  streams  forth 
either  in  tears  of  pity,  or  in  acts  of  kind- 
ness, upon  the  miserable, — with  all  thes6 
virtues  which  they  do  have,  and  which 
serve  both  to  bless  and  to  adorn  the  condi- 
tion of  humanity,  there  is  one  virtue,  which, 
prior  to  the  reception  and  the  influence  of 
the  gospel  of  Christ,  they  most  assuredly 
do  not  have, — they  are  utterly  devoid  of 
godliness.  They  have  no  desire,  and  no 
inclination  towards  God.  There  may  be 
the  dread  of  him,  and  the  occasional  re- 
membrance of  him ;  but  there  is  no  affec- 
tion for  him. 

This  is  the  charge  which  we  carry  round 
amongst  all  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
Adam,  who  have  not  submitted  themselves 


III.j 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


-i 


to  the  only  name  that  is  given  under  hea- 
ven whereby  men  can  be  saved.  We  are 
not  denying  that  the  persons  of  some  of 
them  are  dignified  by  the  more  respectable 
attributes  of  character ;  and  that,  from  the 
persons  of  others  of  them,  there  are  beau- 
teously  reflected  the  more  amiable  and  en- 
dearing attributes  of  character.  But  we 
affirm,  that  with  all  these  random  varieties 
of  moral  exhibition  which  are  to  be  found — 
the  principle  of  loyalty  to  God  has  lost 
the  hold  of  a  presiding  influence  over  all 
the  children  of  our  degraded  and  undone 
nature.  We  ask  you  to  collect  all  the  scat- 
tered remnants  of  what  is  great,  and  of 
what  is  graceful  in  accomplishments  that 
may  have  survived  the  fall  of  our  first  pa- 
rents ;  and  we  pronounce,  of  the  whole  as- 
semblage, that  they  go  not  to  alleviate,  by 
one  iota,  the  burden  of  that  controversy 
which  lies  between  God  and  their  posterity, 
— that  throughout  all  the  ranks  and  diver- 
sities of  character  which  prevail  in  the 
world,  there  is  one  pervading  affection  of 
enmity  to  him  ;  that  the  man  of  talents  for- 
gets that  he  has  nothing  which  he  did  not 
receive,  and  so,  courting  by  some  lofty  en- 
terprize  of  mind,  the  gaze  of  this  world's 
admiration,  he  renounces  his  God,  and 
makes  an  idol  of  his  fame, — that  the  man 
of  ambition  feels  not  how  subordinate  he  is 
to  the  might  and  the  majesty  of  his  Cre- 
ator, but  turning  away  all  his  reverence 
from  him,  falls  down  to  the  idol  of  power, — 
that  the  man  of  avarice  withdraws  all  his 
trust  from  the  living  God,  and,  embarking 
all  his  desire  in  the  pursuit  of  riches,  and 
all  his  security  in  the  possession  of  them, 
he  makes  an  idol  of  wealth, — that,  descend- 
ing from  these  to  the  average  and  the  every- 
day members  of  our  world's  population,  we 
see  each  walking  after  the  counsel  of  his 
own  heart,  and  in  the  sight  of  his  own  eyes, 
with  every  wish  directed  to  the  objects  of 
time,  and  every  hope  bounded  by  its  anti- 
cipations: and,  amid  all  the  love  they  bear 
to  their  families,  and  all  the  diligence  they 
give  to  their  business,  and  all  the  homage 
of  praise  and  attachment  they  obtain  from 
their  friends,  are  they  so  surrounded  by  the 
influences  of  what  is  seen  and  what  is  sen- 
sible, that  the  invisible  God  is  scarcely  ever 
hought  of,  and  his  character  not  at  all 
dwelt  on  with  delight,  and  his  will  never 
admitted  to  an  habitual  and  a  practical  as- 
cendency over  their  conduct,  so  as  to  make 
it  true  of  all,  and  of  every  one  of  us,  that 
there  is  none  who  understandeth,  and  none 
Who  seeketh  after  God. 

Nowr,  if  a  man  do  not  see  this  case  made 
out  against  himself  in  all  its  enormity,  he 
will  feel  that  the  man  who  talks  of  it,  and 
who  proposes  the  gospel  application  to  it, 
talketh  mysteriously.  If  the  Spirit  have 
not  convinced  him  of  sin,  and  he  have 
not  learned  to  submit  his   character  to 


the  lofty  standard  of  a  law  which  offers 
to  subordinate  to  the  will  of  God,  not 
merely  the  whole  habit  of  his  outward  his- 
tory, but  also  the  whole  habit  of  his  inward 
affections,  both  the  disease  and  the  remedy 
are  alike  unknown  to  him.  His  character 
may  be  fair  and  respectable  in  the  eyes  of 
men;  but  it  will  not  carry  upon  it  one 
feature  of  that  spirituality  and  holiness,  and 
relish  for  those  exercises  that  have  God  for 
their  immediate  object,  which  assimilate 
men  to  angels,  and  make  them  meet  for 
the  joys  of  eternity.  His  morality  will  be 
the  morality  of  life,  and  his  virtues  will  be 
the  virtues  of  the  world ;  and  all  the  mys- 
tery of  a  parable,  or  of  a  dark  saying  will 
appear  to  hang  over  the  terms  and  the  ex- 
planations of  that  gospel,  against  the  light  of 
which,  the  god  of  this  world  blindeth  the 
minds  of  those  who  believe  not. 

Let'us  therefore  reflect  that  the  principle 
on  which  the  peculiarities  of  the  gospel  look 
so  mysterious,  is  just  the  feeling  which  na- 
ture has  of  its  own  sufficiency;  and.  that 
you  may  renounce  this  delusive  feeling 
altogether,  we  ask  you  to  think,  how  totally 
destitute  you  are  of  that  whic  God  chiefly 
requires  of  you.  He  requires  your  heart,  and 
we  venture  to  say  of  every  man  amongst  you, 
who  has  heretofore  lived  in  neglect  of  the 
great  salvation,  that  his  heart,  with  all  its  ob- 
jects and  affections,  is  away  from  God, — that 
it  is  not  a  sense  of  obligation  to  him  which 
forms  the  habitual  and  the  presiding  in- 
fluence of  its  movements, — that  therefore 
every  day  and  every  hour  of  your  history 
in  the  world,  accumulates  upon  you  the 
guilt  of  a  disobedience  of  a  far  deeper  and 
more  offensive  character  than  even  the 
disobedience  of  your  more  notorious  and 
external  violations.  There  is  ever  with 
you,  lying  folded  in  the  recesses  of  your 
bosom,  and  pervading  the  whole  system 
both  of  your  desires  and  your  doings,  that 
which  gives  to  sin  all  its  turpitude,  and  all 
its  moral  hideousness  in  the  sight  of  God. 
There  is  a  rooted  preference  of  the  creature 
to  the  Creator.  There  is  a  full  desire 
after  the  gift,  and  a  listless  ingratitude  to- 
wards the  giver.  There  is  an  utter  devoted- 
ness,  in  one  shape  or  other,  to  the  world 
that  is  to  be  burnt  up, — and  an  utter  forget- 
fulness,  amid  all  your  forms,  and  all  your 
decencies,  of  him  who  endureth  for  ever. 
There  is  that  universal  attribute  of  the  car- 
nal mind — enmity  against  God ;  and  we 
affirm  that,  with  this  distaste  in  your  hearts 
towards  him,  you,  on  every  principle  of  a 
spiritual  and  intelligent  morality,  are  as 
chargeable  with  rebellion  against  your 
Maker,  as  if  some  apostate  angel  had  been 
your  champion,  and  you  warred  with  God, 
under  the  waving  standards  of  defiance. 
It  was  to  clear  away  the  guilt  of  this  mon- 
strous iniquity  that  Christ  died.  It  was  to 
make  it  possible  for  God,  with  his  truth 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[sERM. 


unviolated,  and  his  holiness  untarnished, 
and  all  the  high  attributes  of  his  eternal  and 
unchangeable  nature  unimpaired,  to  hold 
out  forgiveness  to  the  world, — that  propi- 
tiation was  made  through  the  blood  of  his 
own  son,  even  that  God  might  be  just, 
while  the  justifier  of  them  who  believe  in 
Jesus.  It  is  to  make  it  possible  for  man  to 
love  the  Being  whom  nature  taught  him  to 
hate  and  to  fear,  that  God  now  lifts,  from 
his  mercy-seat,  a  voice  of  the  most  beseech- 
ing tenderness,  and  smiles  upon  the  world 
as  God  in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto 
himself,  and  not  imputing  unto  them  their 
trespasses.  It  was  utterly  to  shift  the  moral 
constitution  of  our  minds, — an  achievement 
beyond  any  power  of  humanity, — that  the 
Saviour,  after  he  died  and  rose  again,  obtained 
the  promise  of  the  Father,  even  that  Spirit, 
through  whom  alone  the  fixed  and  radical 
disease  of  nature  can  be  done  away.  And 
thus,  by  the  ministration  of  the  baptism  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  does  he  undertake  not  only 
to  improve  but  to  change  us, — not  only  to 
repair  but  to  re-make  us, — not  only  to 
amend  our  evil  works,  but  to  create  us 


anew  unto  good  works,  that  we  may  be  the 
workmanship  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  our 
Lord.  These  are  the  leading  and  essential 
peculiarities  of  the  New  Testament.  This 
is  the  truth  of  Christ ;  though  to  the  gene- 
ral mind  of  the  world  it  is  the  truth  of 
Christ  in  a  mystery.  These  are  the  para- 
bles which  the  commissioned  messengers 
of  grace  are  to  deal  out  to  the  sinful  children 
of  Adam, — and  dark  as  they  may  appear, 
or  disgusting  as  they  may  sound  in  the  ears 
of  those  who  think  that  they  are  rich,  and 
have  need  of  nothing,  they  are  the  very  ar- 
ticles upon  which  hope  is  made  to  beam 
on  the  heart  of  a  converted  sinner, — and 
peace  is  restored  to  him, — and  acceptance 
with  God  is  secured  by  the  terms  of  an  un- 
alterable covenant, — and  the  only  effec- 
tive instruments  of  a  vital  and  substantial 
reformation  are  provided  ;  so  that  he  who 
before  was  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins  is 
quickened  together  with  Christ,  and  made 
alive  unto  God,  and  renewed  "again  after 
his  image,  and  enabled  to  make  constant 
progress  in  all  the  graces  of  a  holy  and 
spiritual  obedience. 


SERMON  IV. 

An  Estimate  of  the  Morality  that  is  without  Godliness. 

"  If  I  wash  myself  with  snow  water,  and  make  my  hands  never  so  clean  :  Yet  shalt  thou  plunge  me  in  the 
ditch,  and  mine  own  clothes  shall  abhor  me.  For  he  is  not  a  man,  as  I  am,  that  I  should  answer  him. 
and  we  should  come  together  in  judgment.  Neither  is  there  any  day's-man  betwixt  us,  that  might  lay  his 
hand  upon  us  both." — Job  ix.  30 — 33. 


To  the  people  of  every  Christian  coun- 
try the  doctrine  of  a  Mediator  between  God 
and  man  is  familiarized  by  long  possession  ; 
though  to  many  of  them  it  be  nothing  more 
than  the  familiarity  of  a  name  recognized 
as  a  well-known  sound  by  the  ear,  without 
sending  one  fruitful  or  substantial  thought 
into  the  understanding.  For,  let  it  be  ob- 
served, that  the  listless  acquiescence  of  the 
mind  in  a  doctrine,  to  the  statement  or  to 
the  explanation  of  which  it  has  been  long 
habituated,  is  a  very  different  thing  from 
the  actual  hold  which  the  mind  takes  of  the 
doctrine, — insomuch  that  it  is  very  possible 
for  a  man  to  be  a  lover  of  orthodoxy,  and 
to  sit  with  complacency  under  its  ministers, 
and  to  be  revolted  by  the  heresies  of  those 
who  would  either  darken  or  deny  any  of 
its  articles, — and,  in  a  word,  to  be  most  te- 
nacious in  his  preference  for  that  form  of 
words  to  which  he  has  been  accustomed  ; 
while  to  the  meaning  of  the  words  them- 
selves, the  whole  man  is  in  a  state  of  entire 
dormancy;  and  delighted  though  he  really 
be  by  the  utterance  of  the  truth,  exhibits 
not  in  his  person,  or  in  his  history,  one 


evidence  of  that  practical  ascendency  which 
Christian  truth  is  sure  to  exert  over  the 
heart  and  the  habits  of  every  genuine  be- 
liever. 

In  the  midst  01  all  that  dimness,  and  ali 
this  indolence  about  the  realities  of  salva- 
tion, it  is  refreshing  to  view  the  workings 
of  a  mind  that  is  in  earnest ;  and  of  a  mind 
too,  which,  instead  of  being  mechanically 
carried  forward  in  the  track  of  a  prescribed 
or  authoritative  orthodoxy,  is  prompted  to 
all  its  aspirations  by  a  deep  feeling  of  guilt, 
and  of  necessity.  Such  we  conceive  to  hav 
been  the  mind  of  Job,  to  whom  the  doc- 
trine of  a  Redeemer  had  not  been  explicitly 
unfolded,  but  who  seems  at  times  to  have 
been  favoured  with  a  prophetic  glimpse  of 
him  through  the  light  of  a  dim  and  distant 
futurity.  The  state  of  his  body,  covered  as 
it  was  with  disease,  makes  him  an  object 
of  sympathy.  But  there  is  a  still  deeper 
and  more  attractive  sympathy  excited  by 
the  state  of  his  soul,  labouring  under  the 
visitation  of  a  hand  that  was  too  heavy  for 
him  ;  called  out  to  combat  with  God,  and 
struggling   to  maintain   it ;    at  one  time, 


IV.j 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


33 


tempted  to  measure  the  justice  of  his  cause 
with  the  righteousness  of  Heaven's  dis- 
pensations ;  at  another,  closing  his  com- 
plaint with  the  murmurs  of  a  despairing  ac- 
quiescence ;  and  at  length  brought,  through 
all  the  varieties  of  an  exercised  and  agitated 
spirit,  to  submit  himself  to  God,  and  to  re- 
pent in  dust  and  in  ashes. 

There  is  a  darkness  in  the  book  of  Job. 
He,  at  one  time,  under  the  soreness  of  his 
calamity,  gives  way  to  impatience  ;  and,  at 
another,  he  seems  to  recall  the  hasty  utter- 
ance of  his  more  distempered  moments. 
He,  in  one  place,  fills  his  mouth  with  argu- 
ments ;  and,  in  another,  he  appears  willing 
to  surrender  them  all,  and  to  decline  the 
unequal  struggle  of  man  contending  with 
his  Maker.  He  is  evidently  oppressed 
throughout  by  a  feeling  of  want,  without 
the  full  understanding  of  an  adequate  or  an 
appropriate  remedy.  Now,  it  does  give  a 
higher  sense  of  the  value  of  this  remedy, 
when  we  are  made  to  witness  the  unsatis- 
fied longings  of  one  who  lived  in  a  dark  and 
early  period  of  the  world, — when  we  hear 
him  telling,  as  he  does  in  these  verses, 
where  the  soreness  lies,  and  obscurely 
guessing  at  the  ministration  that  is  suited 
to  it, — nor  do  we  know  a  single  passage  of 
the  Bible  which  carries  home  with  greater 
effect  the  necessity  of  a  Mediator,  than  that 
where  Job,  on  his  restless  bed,  is  set  before 
us,  wearying  himself  in  the  hopeless  task  of 
arguing  with  God,  and  calling  for  some 
day's-man  betwixt  them  who  might  lay  his 
hand  upon  them  both. 

The  afflictions  which  were  heaped  upon 
Tob  made  him  doubt  his  acceptance  with 
his  Maker.  This  was  the  great  burden  of 
his  complaint,  and  the  recovery  of  this  ac- 
ceptance was  the  theme  of  many  a  fruit- 
less and  fatiguing  speculation.  AVe  have 
one  of  these  speculations  in  the  verses 
which  are  now  submitted  to  you;  and  as 
they  are  four  in  number,  so  there  is  such  a 
distinction  in  the  subjects  of  them,  that  the 
passage  naturally  resolves  itself  into  four 
separate  topics  of  illustration.  In  the  30th 
verse,  we  have  an  expedient  proposed  by 
Job,  for  the  pupose  of  obtaining  the  accept- 
ance which  he  longed  after:  "If  I  wash 
myself  with  snow  water,  and  make  my 
hands  never  so  clean."  In  the  31st  verse, 
we  have  the  inefficacy  of  this  expedient ; 
"  Yet  shalt  thou  plunge  me  in  the  ditch,  and 
mine  own  clothes  shall  abhor  me."  In  the 
:32d  verse,  he  gives  the  reason  of  this  ineffi- 
cacy;  "  For  he  is  not  man,  as  I  am,  that  I 
should  answer  him,  and  we  should  come 
together  in  judgment."  And  in  the  33d 
verse,  he  intimates  to  us  the  right  expedient, 
under  the  form  of  complaining  that  he  him- 
self has  not  the  benefit  of  it:  "Neither  is 
there  any  day's-man  betwixt  us,  that  might 
•ay  his  hand  upon  us  both." 

I.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  even 
5 


a  mistaken  efficacy  should  be  ascribed  to 
snow  water,  in  the  country  of  Job's  resi- 
dence, v/here  snow,  if  ever  it  fell  at  all, 
must  have  fallen  rarely,  at  very  extraordi- 
nary seasons,  and  in  the  more  elevated  parts 
of  his  neighbourhood.  This  rarity,  added 
to  its  unsullied  whiteness,  might  have  given 
currency  to  an  idea  of  its  efficacy  as  a  puri- 
fier, beyond  what  actually  belonged  to  it. 
Certain  it  is,  too,  that  snow  water,  like 
water  deposited  from  the  atmosphere,  in 
any  other  form,  does  not  possess  that  hard- 
ness which  is  often  to  be  met  with  in  spring 
water.  But  however  this  be,  and  whether 
the  popular  notion  of  the  purifying  virtues 
of  snow  water,  taken  up  by  Job,  be  well 
founded  or  not,  we  have  here  an  expedient 
suggested  for  making  the  hands  clean,  and 
the  man  pure  and  acceptable  in  the  sight  of 
God, — a  method  proposed  within  the  reach 
of  man,  and  which  man  can  perform,  for 
making  himself  an  object  of  complacency 
to  his  Maker;  a  method,  too,  which  is  quite 
effectual  for  beautifying  all  that  meets  the 
discernment  of  the  outward  eye,  and  which 
is  here  set  before  us  as  connected  with  the 
object  of  gaining  the  eye  of  that  high  and 
heavenly  Witness,  with  whom  we  have  to 
do.  This  is  what  we  understand  to  be  re- 
presented by  washing  with  snow  water. 
It  comprehends  all  that  man  can  do  for 
washing  himself,  and  for  making  himself 
clean  in  the  sight  of  God.  Job  complains 
of  the  fruitlessness  of  this  expedient,  and 
perhaps  mingles  with  his  complaints  the 
reproaches  of  a  spirit  that  was  not  yet  sub- 
dued to  entire  acquiescence  in  the  righte- 
ousness of  God.  Let  us  try  to  examino 
this  matter,  and,  if  possible,  ascertain  whe- 
ther man  is  able,  on  the  utmost  stretch  of 
his  powers  and  of  his  performances,  to  make 
himself  an  object  of  approbation  to  his 
Judge. 

Without  entering  into  the  metaphysical 
controversy  about  the  extent  or  the  freedom 
of  human  agency,  let  it  be  observed,  that 
there  is  a  plain  and  a  popular  understanding 
on  the  subject  of  what  man  can  do  and  of 
what  he  cannot  do.  We  wish  to  proceed 
on  this  understanding  for  the  present,  and 
to  illustrate  it  by  a  few  examples.  Should 
it  be  asked,  if  a  man  can  keep  his  hands 
from  stealing,  it  would  be  the  unhesitating 
answer  of  almost  every  one  that  he  can  do 
it, — and  if  he  can  keep  his  tongue  from 
lying,  that  he  can  do  it, — and  if  he  can  con- 
strain his  feet  to  carry  him  every  Sabbath 
to  the  house  of  God,  that  he  can  do  this 
also, — and  if  he  can  tithe  his  income,  or 
even  reducing  himself  to  the  necessaries  of 
life,  make  over  the  mighty  sacrifice  of  all 
the  remainder  to  the  poor,  that  it  is  certainly 
possible  for  him  to  do  it, — and  if  he  can 
keep  a  guard  upon  his  lips,  so  that  not  one 
whisper  of  malignity  shall  escape  from 
them,  that  he  can  also  prescribe  this  task  to 


34 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


himself,  and  is  able  to  perform  it, — and  if 
he  can  read  much  of  his  Bible,  and  utter 
many  prayers  in  private,  that  he  can  do  it, 
— and  if  he  can  assemble  his  family  on  the 
morning  and  the  evening  of  every  day,  and 
go  through  the  worship  of  God  along  with 
them,  that  all  this  he  can  do, — that  all  this 
lies  within  the  compass  of  human  agency. 

Let  any  one  man  do,  then,  what  all  men 
think  it  possible  for  him  to  do,  and  he  will 
wear  upon  his  person  the  visible  exhibition 
of  much  to  recommend  him  to  the  favoura- 
ble judgment  of  his  fellows.  He  will  be 
guilty  of  no  one  transgression  against  the 
peace  and  order  of  society.  He  will  be  cor- 
rect, and  regular,  and  completely  inoffen- 
sive. He  will  contribute  many  a  deed  of 
positive  beneficence  to  the  welfare  of  those 
around  him  ;  and  may  even,  on  the  strength 
of  his  many  decencies,  and  many  observa- 
tions, hold  out  an  aspect  of  religiousness  to 
the  general  eye  of  the  world.  There  will 
be  a  wide  and  most  palpable  distinction  of 
character  between  him,  and  those  who,  at 
large  from  the  principle  of  self-control,  re- 
sign themselves  to  the  impulse  of  every 
present  temptation;  and  are  either  intem- 
perate, or  dishonest,  or  negligent  of  ordi- 
nances, just  as  habit,  or  the  urgency  of  their 
feelings  and  their  circumstances,  may  hap- 
pen to  have  obtained  the  ascendancy  over 
them.  Those  do  not  what  they  might,  and 
what,  in  common  estimation,  they  can  do  ; 
and  it  is  just  because  the  man  has  put  forth 
all  his  strenuousness  to  the  task  of  accom- 
plishing all  that  he  is  able  for,  that  he  looks 
so  much  more  seemly  than  those  who  are 
beside  him,  and  holds  out  a  far  more  en- 
gaging display  of  what  is  moral  and  praise- 
worthy to  all  his  acquaintances. 

II.  I  will  not  be  able  to  convince  you 
how  superficial  the  reformation  of  all  these 
doings  is,  without  passing  on  to  the  31st 
verse,  and  proving,  that  in  the  pure  eye  of 
God  the  man  who  has  made  the  most  co- 
pious application  in  his  power  of  snow- 
water to  the  visible  conduct,  may  still  be  an 
object  of  abhorrence ;  and  that  if  God  enter 
into  judgment  with  him,  he  will  make  him 
appear  as  one  plunged  in  the  ditch,  his 
righteousness  as  filthy  rags,  and  himself  as 
an  unclean  thing.  There  are  a  thousand 
things  which,  in  popular  and  understood 
language,  man  can  do.  It  is  quite  the  general 
sentiment,  that  he  can  abstain  from  stealing, 
and  lying,  and  calumny, — that  he  can  give 
of  his  substance  to  the  poor,  and  attend 
church,  and  pray,  and  read  his  Bible,  and 
keep  up  the  worship  of  God  in  his  family. 
But,  as  an  instance  of  distinction  between 
what  he  can  do,  and  what  he  cannot  do,  let 
us  make  the  undoubted  assertion,  that  he 
can  eat  wormwood,  and  just  put  the  ques- 
tion, if  he  can  also  relish  wormwood.  That 
is  a  different  affair.  I  may  command  the 
performance ;  but  have  no  such  command 


over  my  organs  of  sense,  as  to  command  a 
liking,  or  a  taste  for  the  performance.  The 
illustration  is  homely ;  but  it  is  enough  for 
our  purpose,  if  it  be  effective.  I  may  ac- 
complish the  doing  of  what  God  bids  ;  but 
have  no  pleasure  in  God  himself.  The  for- 
cible constraining  of  the  hand,  may  make 
out  many  a  visible  act  of  obedience,  but  the 
relish  of  the  heart  may  refuse  to  go  along 
with  it.  The  outer  man  may  be  all  in  a 
bustle  about  the  commandments  of  God, 
while  to  the  inner  man  God  is  an  offence 
and  a  weariness.  His  neighbours  may  look 
at  him,  and  all  that  their  eye  can  reach  may 
be  as  clean  as  snow-water  can  make  it.  But 
the  eye  of  God  reaches  a  great  deal  farther. 
He  is  the  discerner  of  the  thoughts  and  in- 
tents of  the  heart,  and  he  may  see  the  foul- 
ness of  spiritual  idolatry  in  every  one  of  its 
receptacles.  The  poor  man  has  no  more 
conquered  his  rebellious  affections,  than  he 
has  conquered  his  distaste  for  wormwood. 
He  may  fear  God  ;  he  may  listen  to  God  ; 
and,  in  outward  deed,  may  obey  God.  But 
he  does  not,  and  he  will  not,  love  God;  and 
while  he  drags  a  heavy  load  of  tasks,  and 
duties,  and  observances  after  him,  he  lives 
in  the  hourly  violation  of  the  first  and 
greatest  of  the  commandments. 

Would  any  parent  among  you  count  it 
enough  that  you  obtained  a  service  like  this 
from  one  of  your  children '?  Would  you 
be  satisfied  with  the  obedience  of  his  hand, 
while  you  knew  that  the  affections  of  his 
heart  were  totally  away  from  you?  Let 
every  one  requirement,  issued  from  the 
chair  of  parental  authority,  be  most  rigidly 
and  punctually  done  by  him,  would  not  the 
sullenness  of  his  alienated  countenance  turn 
the  whole  of  it  into  bitterness  ?  It  is  the 
heart  of  his  son  which  the  parent  longs  af- 
ter ;  and  the  lurking  distaste  and  disaffection 
which  rankle  there,  can  never,  never  be 
made  up  by  such  an  obedience,  as  the 
yoked  and  the  tortured  negro  is  compelled 
to  yield  to  the  whip  of  the  overseer.  The 
service  may  be  done  ;  but  all  that  can  mi- 
nister satisfaction  in  the  principle  of  the 
service,  may  be  withheld  from  it;  and 
though  the  very  last  item  of  the  bidden  per- 
formance is  rendered,  this  will  neither  mend 
the  deformity  of  the  unnatural  child,  nor 
soothe  the  feelings  of  the  afflicted  and  the 
mortified  father. 

God  is  the  Father  of  spirits;  and  the 
willing  subjection  of  the  spirit  is  that  which 
he  requires  of  us.  "  My  son,  give  me  thy 
heart ;"  and  if  the  heart  be  withheld,  God 
says  of  all  our  visible  performances,  "To 
what  purpose  is  the  multitude  of  your  sacri- 
fices unto  me  V  The  heart  is  his  require- 
ment ;  and  full,  indeed,  is  the  title  which  he 
prefers  to  it.  He  put  life  into  us  ;  and  it  is 
he  who  hath  drawn  a  circle  of  enjoyments, 
and  friendships,  and  interests  around  us. 
Every  thing  that  we  take  delight  in,  is  min- 


IV.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


35 


istered  to  us  out  of  his  hand.  He  plies  us 
every  moment  with  his  kindness;  and  when 
at  length  the  gift  stole  the  heart  of  man 
away  from  the  Giver,  so  that  he  became  a 
lover  of  his  own  pleasure,  rather  than  a 
lover  of  God,  even  then  would  he  not  leave 
us  to  perish  in  the  guilt  of  our  rebellion. 
Man  made  himself  an  alien,  but  God  was 
not  willing  to  abandon  him ;  and,  rather 
than  lose  him  for  ever,  did  he  devise  a  way 
of  access  by  which  to  woo,  and  to  welcome 
him  back  again.  The  way  of  our  recovery 
is  indeed  a  way  that  his  heart  was  set  upon ; 
and  to  prove  it,  he  sent  his  own  eternal  Son 
into  the  world,  who  unrobed  him  of  all  his 
glories  and  made  himself  of  no  reputation. 
He  had  to  travel  in  the  greatness  of  his 
strength,  that  he  might  unbar  the  gates  of 
acceptance  to  a  guilty  world  ;  and  now  that, 
in  full  harmony  with  the  truth  and  the  jus- 
tice of  God,  sinners  may  draw  nigh  through 
the  blood  of  the  atonement,  what  is  the 
wonderful  length  to  which  the  condescen- 
sion of  God  carries  him?  Why,  he  actually 
beseeches  us  to  be  reconciled  ;  and,  with  a 
tone  more  tender  than  the  affection  of  an 
earthly  father  ever  prompted,  does  he  call 
upon  us  to  turn,  and  to  turn,  for  why  should 
we  die?  if,  after  all  this,  the  antipathy  of  na- 
ture to  God  still  cleave  to  us ;  if,  under  the 
power  of  this  antipathy,  the  service  we 
yield  be  the  cold  and  unwilling  service  of 
constraint ;  if,  with  many  of  the  visible  out- 
works of  obedience,  there  be  also  the  smug- 
glings of  a  reluctant  heart  to  take  away 
from  this  obedience  all  its  cheerfulness,  is 
not  God  defrauded  of  his  offering  ?  Does 
there  not  rest  on  the  moral  aspect  of  our 
character,  in  reference  to  him,  all  the  odious- 
ness  of  unnatural  children  ?  Let  our  outer 
doings  be  what  they  may,  does  there  not 
adhere  to  us  the  turpitude  of  having  deeply 
revolted  against  that  Being  whose  kindness 
has  never  abandoned  us  ?  And,  though  pure 
in  the  eye  of  our  fellows,  and  our  hands  be 
clean  as  with  snow-water,  is  there  nothing 
in  our  hearts  against  which  a  spiritual  law 
may  denounce  its  severities,  and,  the  giver 
of  tliat  law  may  lift  a  voice  of  righteous  ex- 
postulation ?  u  Hear  ye  now  what,  the  Lord 
saith  :  Arise,  contend  thou  before  the  moun- 
tains, and  let  the  hills  hear  thy  voice.  Hear 
ye,  O  mountains,  the  Lord's  controversy, 
and  ye  strong  foundations  of  the  earth : 
for  the  Lord  hath  a  controversy  with  his 
people,  and  he  will  plead  with  Israel.  O 
my  people,  what  have  I  done  unto  thee, 
and  wherein  have  I  wearied  thee  ?  testify 
against  me." 

It  is  not  easy  to  lay  open  the  utter  naked- 
ness of  the  natural  heart  in  reference  to 
God ;  or  to  convince  the  possessor  of  it, 
that,  under  the  guise  of  his  many  plausi- 
bilities, there  may  lurk  that  which  gives  to 
sin  all  its  hideousness. 

The  mere  man  of  ordinances  cannot  ac- 


quiesce in  what  he  reckons  to  be  the  ex- 
aggerations of  orthodoxy  upon  this  subject; 
nor  can  he  at  all  conceive  how  it  is  possible 
that,  with  so  much  of  the  semblance  of  god- 
liness about  him,  there  should,  at  the  same 
time,  be  within  him  the  very  opposite  of 
godliness.  It  is,  indeed,  a  difficult  task  to 
carry  upon  this  point  the  conviction  of  him 
who  positively  loves  the  Sabbath,  and  to 
whom  the  chime  of  its  morning  bells  brings 
the  delightful  associations  of  peace  and  of 
sacredness, — who  has  his  hours  of  prayer, 
at  which  he  gathers  his  family  around  him, 
and  his  hours  of  attendance  on  that  house 
where  the  man  of  God  deals  out  his  weekly 
lessons  to  the  assembled  congregation.  It 
may  be  in  vain  to  tell  him,  that  God  in  fact 
is  a  weariness  to  his  heart,  when  it  is  at- 
tested to  him  by  his  own  consciousness ; 
that  when  the  preacher  is  before  him,  and 
the  people  are  around  him,  and  the  pro- 
fessed object  of  their  coming  together  is  to 
join  in  the  exercise  of  devotion,  and  to  grow 
in  the  knowledge  of  God,  he  finds  in  fact 
that  all  is  pleasantness,  that  his  eye  is  not 
merely  filled  with  the  public  exhibition,  and 
his  ear  regaled  by  the  impressiveness  of  a 
human  voice,  but  that  the  interest  of  his 
heart  is  completely  kept  up  by  the  succes- 
sion and  variety  of  the  exercises.  It  may 
be  in  vain  to  tell  him,  that  this  religion  of 
taste  or  this  religion  of  habit,  or  this  re- 
ligion of  inheritance,  may  utterly  consist 
with  the  deep  and  the  determined  worldli- 
ness  of  all  his  affections, — that  he  whom 
he  thinks  to  be  the  God  of  his  Sabbath  is  not 
the  God  of  his  week  ;  but  that,  throughout 
all  the  successive  days  of  it,  he  is  going 
astray  after  the  idols  of  vanity,  and  living 
without  God  in  the  world.  This  is  demon- 
stration enough  of  all  his  forms,  and  all  his 
observations,  being  a  mere  surface  display, 
without  a  living  principle  of  piety.  But 
perhaps  it  may  serve  more  effectually  to 
convince  him  of  it,  should  we  ask  him,  how 
his  godliness  thrives  in  the  closet,  and  what 
are  the  workings  of  his  heart,  in  the  ab- 
stract and  solitary  hour  of  intercourse  with 
the  unseen  Father.  In  church,  there  may 
be  much  to  interest  him,  and  to  keep  him 
alive.  But  when  alone,  and  deserted  by  all 
the  accompaniments  of  a  solemn  assembly, 
we  should  like  to  know  with  what  vivacity 
he  enters  on  the  one  business  of  meditating 
on  God,  and  holding  converse  with  God. 
Is  the  sense  of  the  all-seeing  and  ever-pre- 
sent Deity  enough  for  him  ;  and  does  love 
to  God  brighten  and  sustain  the  moments 
of  solitary  prayer  ?  The  mind  may  have 
enough  to  interest  it  in  church ;  but  does 
the  secret  exercise  of  fellowship  witli  the 
Father  bring  no  distaste,  and  no  weariness 
along  with  it?  Is  it  any  thing  more  than 
the  homage  of  a  formal  presentation  ?  And 
when  the  business  of  devotion  is  thus  un- 
peopled of  all  its  externals,  and  of  all  its 


36 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


fSERM. 


accessaries ;  when  thus  reduced  to  a  naked 
exercise  of  spirit,  can  you  appeal  to  the 
longings,  and  the  affections  of  that  spirit,  as 
the  essential  proof  of  your  godliness  ?  And 
do  you  never,  on  occasions  like  this,  dis- 
cover that  which  is  in  your  hearts,  and  de- 
tect their  enmity  to  him  who  formed  them? 
Do  you  afford  no  ground  for  the  complaint 
which  he  uttered  of  old,  when  he  said, 
"  Have  I  been  a  wilderness  unto  Israel,  and 
a  land  of  darkness?"  and  do  you  not  per- 
ceive that  with  this  direction  of  your  feel- 
ings and  your  desires  away  from  the  living 
God,  though  you  be  outwardly  clean,  as  by 
the  operation  cf  snow  water,  he  may  plunge 
you  in  the  ditch,  and  make  your  own  clothes 
to  abhor  you. 

We  shall  conclude  this  part  of  our  sub- 
ject with  two  observations. 

First.  The  efforts  of  nature  may,  in  point 
of  inadequacy,  be  compared  to  the  applica- 
tion of  snow  water.  Yet  there  is  a  practical 
mischief  here,  in  which  the  zeal  of  contro- 
versy, bent  on  its  one  point,  and  its  one 
principle,  may  unconsciously  involve  us. 
We  are  not,  in  pursuit  of  any  argument 
whatever,  to  lose  sight  of  efforts.  We  are 
not  to  deny  them  the  place,  and  the  im- 
portance which  the  Bible  plainly  assigns  to 
them ;  nor  are  we  to  forbear  insisting  upon 
their  performance  by  men,  previous  to  con- 
version, and  in  the  very  act  of  conversion, 
and  in  every  period  of  the  progress,  how- 
ever far  advanced  it  may  be,  of  the  new 
creature  in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  We 
speak  just  now  of  men,  previous  to  con- 
version, and  we  call  to  your  remembrance 
the  example  of  John  the  Baptist.  The  in- 
judicious way  in  which  the  doings  of  men 
have  been  spoken  of,  has  had  practically 
this  effect  on  many  an  inquirer.  Since  do- 
ing is  of  so  little  consequence,  let  us  even 
abstain  from  it.  Now  the  forerunner  of 
Christ  spake  a  very  different  language.  He 
unceasingly  called  upon  the  people  to  do ; 
and  this  was  the  very  preaching  which  the 
divine  Avisdom  appointed  as  a  preparation 
for  the  Saviour.  "  He  that  hath  two  coats, 
let  him  impart  to  him  that  hath  none ;  and 
he  that  hath  meat,  let  him  do  likewise." — 
"  Exact  no  more  than  that  which  is  ap- 
pointed."— "  Do  violence  to  no  man ;  neither 
accuse  any  falsely,  and  be  content  with 
your  wages."  Was  not  John,  then,  it  may 
be  said,  a  mere  superficial  reformer  ?  Had 
he  stopped  short  at  this,  he  woidd  have 
been  no  better.  His  teaching  could  have 
done  no  more  than  is  done  by  the  mere 
application  of  snow  water.  But  he  did  not 
stop  here.  He  told  the  people  that  there 
was  a  preacher  and  a  preaching  to  come 
after  him,  in  comparison  of  which  he  and 
his  sermons  were  nothing.  He  pointed  the 
eye  and  the  expectation  of  his  hearers  full 
upon  one  that  was,  greater  than  himself; 
and,  while  he  baptized  with  water  unto  re- 


pentance, and  called  upon  the  people  to 
frame  their  doings,  he  told  them  of  one 
mightier  than  he,  who  was  to  baptize  with 
the  Holy  Ghost  and  with  fire. 

And,  Secondly,  That  you  may  be  con- 
vinced of  the  utter  necessity  of  such  a  bap- 
tism, let  us  affirm  the  inadequacy  of  all 
the  fairest  virtues  and  accomplishments  of 
nature.  God  has,  for  the  well-being  of 
society,  provided  man  with  certain  feel- 
ings and  constitutional  principles  of  action, 
which  lead  him  to  a  conduct  beneficial  to 
those  around  him;  to  which  conduct  he 
may  be  carried  by  the  impulse  of  these 
principles,  with  as  little  reference  to  the 
will  of  God,  as  a  mother,  among  the  in- 
ferior animals,  when  constrained  by  the 
sweet  and  powerful  influences  of  natural 
affection,  to  guard  the  safety,  and  provide 
for  the  nourishment  of  her  young.  Take 
account  of  these  principles  as  they  exist  in 
the  bosom  of  man,  and  you  there  find  com- 
passion for  the  unfortunate  ;  the  shame  of 
detection  in  any  thing  mean,  or  disgrace- 
ful; the  desire  of  standing  well  in  the 
opinion  of  his  fellows ;  the  kindlier  chari- 
ties, which  shed  a  mild  and  a  quiet  lustre 
over  the  walks  of  domestic  life;  and  those 
wider  principles  of  patriotism  and  public 
usefulness  which,  combined  with  an  appe- 
tite for  distinction,  Avill  raise  a  few  of  the 
more  illustrious  of  our  race  to  some  high 
and  splendid  career  of  beneficence.  Now, 
these  are  the  principles  which,  scattered  in 
various  proportions  among  the  individuals 
of  human  kind,  gave  rise  to  the  varied  hues 
of  character  among  them.  Some  possess 
them  in  no  sensible  degree ;  and  they  are 
pointed  at  with  abhorrence,  as  the  most 
monstrous  and  deformed  of  the  species. 
Others  have  an  average  share  of  them ; 
and  they  take  their  station  amongst  the 
common-place  characters  of  society.  And 
others  go  beyond  the  average;  and  are 
singled  out  from  amongst  their  fellows,  as 
the  kind,  the  amiable,  the  sweet-tempered, 
the  upright,  whose  hearts  swell  with  hon- 
ourable feeling,  or  whose  pulse  beats  high 
in  the  pride  of  integrity. 

Now,  conceive  for  a  moment,  that  the 
belief  of  a  God  were  to  be  altogether  ex- 
punged from  the  world.  We  have  no  doubt 
that  society  would  suffer  most  painfully  in 
its  temporal  interests  by  such  an  event. 
But  the  machine  of  society  might  still  be 
kept  up ;  and  on  the  face  of  it  you  might 
still  meet  with  the  same  gradations  of  cha- 
racter, and  the  same  varied  distribution  of 
praise,  among  the  individuals  who  compose 
it.  Suppose  it  possible,  that  the  world  could 
be  broken  off  from  the  system  of  God's  ad- 
ministration altogether;  and  that  he  were  to 
consign  it,  with  all  its  present  accommoda- 
tions, and  all  its  natural  principles,  to  some 
far  and  solitary  place,  beyond  the  limits  of 
his  economy — we  should  still  find  ourselves 


v.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


37 


in  the  midst  of  a  moral  variety  of  character ; 
and  man,  sitting  in  judgment  over  it,  would 
say  of  some,  that  they  are  good,  and  of 
others,  that  they  are  evil.  Even  in  this 
desolate  region  of  atheism,  the  eye  of  the 
sentimentalist  might  expatiate  among  beau- 

ous  and  interesting  spectacles, — amiable 
mothers  shedding  their  graceful  tears  over 
the  tomb  of  departed  infancy ;  high-toned 
integrity  maintaining  itself  unsullied  amid 
the  allurements  of  corruption  ;  benevolence 
plying  its  labours  of  usefulness.;  and  patri- 
otism earning  its  proud  reward,  in  the  testi- 
mony of  an  approving  people.  Here,  then, 
you  have  compassion,  and  natural  affec- 
tion, and  justice,  and  public  spirit — but 
would  it  not  be  a  glaring  perversion  of  lan- 
guage to  say,  that  there  was  godliness  in 
a  world,  where  there  was  no  feeling  and 
no  conviction  about  God, 

In  the  midst  of  this  busy  scene,  let  God 
reveal  himself,  not  to  eradicate  these  princi- 
ples of  action — but  giving  his  sanction  to 
whatsoever  things  are  just,  and  lovely,  and 
honourable,  and  of  good  report,  to  make 
himself  known,  at  the  same  time  as  the 
Creator  and  Upholder  of  all  things,  and  as 
the  Being  with  whom  all  his  rational  off- 
spring had  to  do.  Is  this  solemn  an- 
nouncement from  the  voice  of  the  Eternal 
to  make  no  difference  upon  them'?  Are 
those  principles  which  might  flourish  and 
be  sustained  on  a  soil  of  atheism,  to  be 
counted  enough  even  after  the  wonderful 
truth  of  a  living  and  a  reigning  God  has 
burst  upon  the  world  ?  You  are  just ; — right, 
indispensably  right.  You  say  you  have  as- 
serted no  more  than  your  own.  But  this 
property  is  not  your  own.  He  gave  it  to 
you,  and  he  may  call  upon  you  to  give  to 
him  an  account  of  your  stewardship.  You 
are  compassionate; — right  also.  But  what 
if  he  set  up  the  measure  of  the  sanctuary 


upon  your  compassion?  and,  instead  of  a 
desultory  instinct,  excited  to  feeling  by  a 
moving  picture  of  sensibility,  and  limited  in 
effect  to  a  humble  fraction  of  your  expendi- 
ture, he  call  upon  you  to  love  your  neigh- 
bour as  yourself,  and  to  maintain  this  prin- 
ciple at  the  expense  of  self-denial,  and  in 
the  midst  of  manifold  provocations  1  You 
love  your  children  ; — still  indispensably 
right.  But  what  if  he  should  say,  and  he 
has  actually  said  it,  that  you  may  know 
how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your  children, 
and  still  be  evil?  and  that  if  you  love  father, 
or  mother,  or  wife,  or  children,  more  than 
him,  you  are  not  worthy  of  him  ?  The  lus- 
tre of  your  accomplishments  dazzles  the 
eye  of  your  neighbourhood,  and  you  bask 
with  a  delighted  heart  in  the  sunshine  of 
glory.  But  what  if  he  should  say,  that  his 
glory,  and  not  your  own,  should  be  the 
constant  aim  of  your  doings  ?  and  that  if 
you  love  the  praise  of  men  more  than  the 
praise  of  God,  you  stand,  in  the  pure  and 
spiritual  records  of  heaven,  convicted  of 
idolatry  ?  You  love  the  things  of  the  world ; 
and  the  men  of  the  world,  coming  together 
in  judgment  upon  you,  take  no  offence  at 
it.  But  God  takes  offence  at  it.  He  says, — 
and  is  he  not  right  in  saying  ? — that  if  the 
gift  withdraw  the  affections  from  the  Giver, 
there  is  something  wrong;  that  the  love  of 
these  things  is  opposite  to  the  love  of  the 
Father ;  and  that,  unless  you  withdraw  your 
affections  from  a  world  that  perisheth,  you 
will  perish  along  with  it.  Surely  if  these, 
and  such  like  principles,  may  consist  with 
the  atheism  of  a  world  where  God  is  un- 
thought  of  and  unknown, — you  stand  con- 
victed of  a  still  deeper  and  more  determined 
atheism,  who  under  the  revelation  of  a  God 
challenging  the  honour  that  is  due  unto  his 
name,  are  satisfied  with  your  holding  in 
society,  and  live  without  him  in  the  world. 


SERMON  V. 

The  Judgment  of  Men,  compared  with  the  Judgment  of  God. 

With  me  it  is  a  very  small  thing  thai  I  should  be  judged  of  you,  or  of  man's  judgment — he  that  judget 
me  is  the  Lord." — 1  Ctrrinthians  iv.  3,  4. 


HI.  When  two  parties  meet  together  on 
the  business  of  adjusting  their  respective 
claims,  or  when,  in  the  language  of  our 
;  xt,  tliey  come  together  in  judgment,  the 
principles  on  which  they  proceed  must  de- 
pend on  the  relation  in  which  they  stand 
to  each  other:  and  we  know  not  a  more 
fata!  or  a  more  deep  laid  delusion,  than  that 
by  which  the  principles,  applicable  to  the 
case  of  a  man  entering  into  judgment  with 
his  fellow-men,  are  transferred  to  the  far  dif- 


ferent case  of  man's  entering  into  judgment 
with  his  God.  Job  seems  to  have  been 
aware  of  this  difference,  and  at  times  to 
have  been  humbled  by  it.  In  reference  to 
man,  he  stood  on  triumphant  ground,  and 
often  spoke  of  it  in  a  style  of  boastful  vindi- 
cation. No  one  could  impeach  his  justice. 
No  one  could  question  his  generosity.  And 
he  made  his  confident  appeal  to  the  remem- 
brance of  those  around  him,  when  lie  says 
of  himself,  that  he  delivered  the  poor  that 


38 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


cried,  and  the  fatherless,  and  him  that  had 
none  to  help  him ;  that  the  blessing  of  him 
that  was  ready  to  perish  came  upon  him, 
and  he  caused  the  widow's  heart  to  sing 
for  joy ;  that  he  put  on  righteousness,  and  it 
clothed  him,  and  his  judgment  was  as  a 
robe  and  a  diadem  ;  that  he  was  eyes  to  the 
blind,  and  feet  was  he  to  the  lame ;  that  he 
was  a  father  to  the  poor,  and  the  cause  that 
he  knew  not,  he  searched  out.  On  these 
grounds  did  he  challenge  the  judgment 
of  man,  and  actually  obtained  it.  For  we 
are  told,  because  he  did  all  this,  that  when 
the  ear  heard  him,  then  i't  blessed  him,  and 
when  the  eye  saw  him,  it  gave  witness  unto 
him. 

There  is  not  a  more  frequent  exercise  of 
mind  in  society,  than  that  by  which  the 
members  of  it  form  and  declare  their  judg- 
ment of  each  other — and  the  work  of  thus 
deciding  is  a  work  which  they  all  share  in, 
and  on  which,  perhaps,  there  is  not  a  day 
of  their  lives  wherein  they  are  not  called 
upon  to  expend  some  measure  of  attention 
and  understanding — and  we  know  not  if 
there  be  a  single  topic  that  more  readily 
engages  the  conversation  of  human  beings — 
and  often  do  we  utter  our  own  testimony, 
and  hear  the  testimony  of  others  to  the 
virtues  and  vices  of  the  absent — and  out  of 
all  this  has  arisen  a  standard  of  estimation — 
and  it  is  such  a  standard  as  many  may 
actually  reach,  and  some  have  actually  ex- 
ceeded— and  thus  it  is,  that  it  appears  to  re- 
quire a  very  extended  scale  of  reputation 
to  take  in  all  the  varieties  of  human  charac- 
ter— and  while  the  lower  extremity  of  it 
is  occupied  by  the  dishonest,  and  the  per- 
fidious, and  the  glaringly  selfish,  who  are 
outcasts  from  general  respect ;  on  the  higher 
extremity  of  it,  do  we  behold  men,  to  whom 
are  awarded,  by  the  universal  voice,  all  the 
honours  of  a  proud  and  unsullied  excel- 
lence— and  their  walk  in  the  world  is  digni- 
fied by  the  reverence  of  many  salutations 
— and  as  we  hear  of  their  truth  and  their 
uprightness,  and  their  princely  liberalities, 
and  of  a  heart  alive  to  every  impulse  of 
sympathy,  and  of  a  manner  sweetened  by 
all  the  delicacies  of  genuine  kindness ; — 
who  does  not  see  that,  in  this  assemblage 
of  moral  graces  and  accomplishments,  there 
is  enough  to  satisfy  man,  and  to  carry  the 
admiration  of  man  ?  and  can  we  wonder  if, 
while  we  gaze  on  so  fine  a  specimen  of  our 
nature,  we  should  not  merely  pronounce 
upon  him  an  honourable  sentence  at  the 
tribunal  of  human  judgment,  but  we  should 
conceive  of  him  that  he  looks  as  bright  and 
faultless  in  the  eye  of  God,  and  that  he  is 
in  every  way  meet  for  his  presence  and  his 
friendship  in  eternity. 

Now,  if  there  be  any  truth  in  the  dis- 
tinction of  our  text ;  if  a  man  may  have  the 
judgment  of  his  fellows,  and  yet  be  utterly 
unfit  for  contending  in  judgment  with  God ; 


if  there  be  any  emphasis  in  the  considera- 
tion, that  he  is  God,  and  not  man ;  or  any  v 
delusion  in  conceiving  of  him,  that  he  is 
altogether  like  unto  ourselves, — may  not 
all  that  ready  circulation  of  praise,  and  of 
acknowledgement,  which  obtains  in  society, 
carry  a  most  ruinous,  and  a  most  bewitching 
influence  along  with  it  ?  Is  it  not  possible 
that  on  the  applause  of  man  there  may  be 
reared  a  most  treacherous  self-complacency? 
Might  not  we  build  a  confidence  before 
God,  on  this  sandy  foundation?  Think 
you  not,  that  it  is  just  this  ill-supported  con- 
fidence which  shuts  out  from  many  a  heart 
the  humiliating  doctrine  of  the  gospel?  Is 
there  no  such  imagination  as  that  because 
we  are  so  well  able  to  stand  our  ground 
before  the  judgment  of  the  world,  we  shall 
be  equally  well  able  to  stand  our  ground  be- 
fore the  judgment-seat  of  the  great  day?  Are 
there  not  many  who,  upon  this  very  prin- 
ciple, count  themselves  rich  and  to  have 
need  of  nothing?  And  have  you  never 
met  with  men  of  character,  and  estimation  in 
society,  who,  surrounded  by  the  gratulations 
of  their  neighbourhood,  find  the  debasing 
views  of  humanity,  which  are  set  before  us 
in  the  New  Testament,  to  be  beyond  their 
comprehension;  who  are  utterly  in  the  dark; 
as  to  the  truth  and  the  justness  of  such  re- 
presentations, and  with  whom  the  voice  of 
God  is  therefore  deafened  by  the  voice  and 
the  testimony  of  men  ?  They  see  not  them- 
selves in  that  character  of  vileness  and  of 
guilt  which  he  ascribes  to  them.  They  are 
blind  to  the  principle  of  the  text,  that  he  is 
not  a  man  ;  and  that  they  may  not  be  able 
to  answer  him,  though  they  may  be  able 
to  meet  the  every  reproach,  and  to  hold  out 
the  lofty  vindication  against  every  charge, 
which  any  one  of  their  fellows  may  prefer. 
And  thus  it  is,  that  many  live  in  the  habitual 
neglect  of  a  salvation  which  they  cannot 
see  that  they  require ;  and  spend  their  days 
in  an  insidious  security,  from  which  nothing 
but  the  voice  of  the  last  messenger,  or  the 
call  of  the  last  trumpet,  shall  awaken  them. 

To  do  away  this  delusion,  we  shall  ad- 
vert to  two  leading  points  of  distinction 
between  the  judgment  of  men  and  that  of 
God.  There  is  a  distinction  founded  upon 
the  claims  which  God  has  a  right  to  pre- 
fer against  us,  when  compared  with  the 
claims  which  our  fellow-men  have  a  right 
to  prefer  against  us ; — and  there  is  a  dis- 
tinction founded  upon  that  clearer  and  more 
elevated  sense  which  God  has  of  that  holi- 
ness without  which  no  man  shall  see  his 
face,  of  that  moral  worth  without  which  we 
are  utterly  unfit  for  the  society  of  heaven. 

The  people  around  me  have  no  right  to 
complain,  if  I  give  to  every  man  his  own ; 
or,  in  other  words,  if  I  am  true  to  all  my 
promises,  and  faithful  to  all  my  bargains : 
and  if  what  I  claim  as  justice  to  myself,  I 
most  scrupulously  render  to  others,  when 


v.l 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


39 


they  are  in  like  circumstances  with  myself. 
Now,  let  me  do  all  this,  and  I  earn  amongst 
my  fellows  the  character  of  a  man  of 
honour  and  of  equity.  Did  I  live  with  such 
a  character  in  an  unfallen  world,  these  vir- 
tues would  not  at  all  signalize  me,  though 
the  opposite  vices  would  mark  me  out  for 
universal  surprise  and  indignation.  But 
it  so  happens  that  I  live  in  a  world  full  of 
corruption,  where  deceit  and  dishonesty  are 
common ;— where,  though  the  higher  de- 
grees of  them  are  spoken  of  with  abhor- 
rence, the  lower  degrees  of  them  are  looked 
at  with  a  very  general  connivance ; — where 
the  inflexibility  of  a  truth  that  knows  not 
one  art  of  concealment,  and  the  delicacy  of 
an  honour  that  was  never  tainted,  would 
greatly  signalize  me ; — and  thus  it  is,  that 
though  I  went  not  beyond  the  strict  require- 
ments of  integrity,  yet  by  my  nice  and  un- 
varying fulfilment  of  them,  should  I  rise 
above  the  ordinary  level  of  human  reputa- 
tion, and  be  rewarded  by  the  most  flatter- 
ing distinctions  of  human  applause. 

But  again,  I  may  in  fact  give  to  others 
more  than  their  own ;  and  in  so  doing  I  may 
earn  the  credit  of  other  virtues.  I  may 
gather  an  additional  lustre  around  my  cha- 
racter, and  collect  from  those  around  me 
the  tribute  of  a  still  louder  and  more  rap- 
turous approbation.  I  may  have  a  heart 
constitutionally  framed  to  the  feeling  and 
the  exercise  of  compassion.  I  may  scatter 
on  every  side  of  me  the  treasures  of  benefi- 
cence. I  may  have  an  eye  for  pity,  and  a 
hand  open  as  day  for  melting  charity.  I 
may  lay  aside  a  large  proportion  of  my 
wealth  to  the  service  of  others, — and  what 
with  a  bosom  open  to  every  impulse  of  pity, 
and  with  an  eye  ever  Lighted  up  by  the 
smile  of  courteousness,  and  with  a  ready 
ear  to  all  that  is  offered  in  the  shape  of 
complaint  or  supplication,  I  may  not  go  be- 
y  'inl  the  demands  of  others,  but  I  may 
go  greatly  beyond  all  that  they  have  a  right 
to  demand,  and  if  I  signalize  myself  by 
rendering  faithfully  to  every  man  his  due, 
— still  more  shall  I  signalize  myself  by  a 
kindness  that  is  never  weary,  by  a  liberality 
that  never  is  exhausted. 

Now,  we  need  not  offer  to  assign  the  pre- 
cise degree  to  which  a  man  must  carry  the 
exercise  of  these  gratuitous  virtues,  ere  he 
can  obtain  for  them  the  good  will,  and  the 
good  opinion  of  society.  We  need  nol  say 
by  how  small  a  fraction  of  his  income,  he 
may  thus  purchase  tip-  homage  of  his  ac- 
quaintances,— at  how  easy  a  rate  he  may 
send  away  one  person  delighted  by  his  af- 
fability, or  another  by  the  hospitality  of 
his  reception ;  or  a  third  by  the  rendering 
of  a  personal  service ;  or  a  fourth  by  the 
direct  conveyance  of  a  present, — or,  finally, 
for  what  expense  he  may  surround  him- 
self by  the  gratitude  of  many  poor,  and  the 
blessings  and  the  prayers  of  many  cottages. 


We  cannot  bring  forward  any  rigid  com- 
putation of  this  mat  lor.  But  we  appeal  to 
the  experience  of  your  own  history,  and  to 
your  observation  of  others,  if  a  man  might 
not,  without  any  painful,  or  any  sensible 
surrender  of  enjoyment  at  all,  stand  out  to 
the  eye  of  others  in  a  blaze  of  moral  re- 
putation— if  the  substantial  citizen  might 
not,  on  the  convivialities  of  friendship,  be 
indulging  his  own  taste,  and  at  the  very 
time  be  securing  from  his  pleased  and  sa- 
tisfied guests,  the  attestations  of  their  cor- 
diality— if  the  man  of  business  might  not 
be  nobly  generous  to  his  friends  in  adver- 
sity, and  at  the  same  time  be  running  one 
unvaried  career  of  accumulation — if  the 
man  of  society  might  not  be  charming 
every  acquaintance  by  the  truth  and  the 
tenderness  of  his  expressions,  and  at  the 
same  time,  instead  of  impairing,  be  height- 
ening his  share  of  that  felicity,  which  the 
Author  of  our  being  has  annexed  to  human 
intercourse — if  a  thousand  little  acts  of  ac- 
commodation from  one  neighbour  to  an- 
other, might  not  swell  the  tide  of  praise  and 
nl  popularity,  and  yet,  as  ample  a  remain- 
der of  pleasurable  feeling  be  left  to  each  as 
before.  And  even  when  the  sacrifice  is 
more  painful,  and  the  generosity  more  ro- 
mantic, and  man  can  appeal  to  some  mighty 
reduction  of  wealth  as  the  measure  of  his 
beneficence  to  others,  might  it  not  be  said 
of  him,  if  the  life  be  more  than  meat,  and 
the  body  than  raiment,  that  still  there  is 
left  to  him  more  than  he  can  possibly  sur- 
render? that,  though  he  strip  himself  of  all 
his  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  there  remains 
to  him  that,  without  which  all  is  nothing- 
ness,— that  a  breathing  and  a  conscious  man, 
he  still  treads  on  the  face  of  our  world,  and 
bears  his  part  in  that  universe  of  life,  where 
the  unfailing  compassion  of  God  still  con- 
tinues to  uphold  him, — that  instead  of  lying 
wrapt  in  the  insensibility  of  an  eternal 
grave,  he  has  all  the  images  of  a  waking 
existence  around  him,  and  all  the  glories 
of  immortality  before  him, — that  instead  of 
being  withered  to  a  thing  of  nought,  and 
gone  to  that  dark  and  hidden  land,  where 
all  is  silence  and  deep  annihilation,  a  thou- 
sand avenues  of  enjoyment  are  si  ill  open  to 
him,  and  the  promise  of  a  daily  provision  is 
still  made  sure,  and  he  is  free  to  all  the 
common  blessings  of  nature,  and  he  is 
freer  still  to  all  the  consolations,  and  to  all 
the  privileges  of  the  gospel. 

Thus  it  appears  that  after  I  have  fulfilled 
all  the  claims  of  men,  and  men  are  satis- 
fied,— that  after  having  gone,  in  the  exer- 
cise of  liberality,  beyond  these  claims,  and 
men  are  filled  with  delight  and  admiration, 
— that  after,  on  the  footing  of  equal  and  in- 
dependent rights,  I  have  come  into  judg- 
ment with  my  fellows,  and  they  have 
awarded  to  me  the  tribute  of  their  most 
honourable  testimony,  the  footing  on  which 


40 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


I  stand  with  God  still  remains  to  be  at- 
tended to,  and  his  claims  still  remain  to  be 
adjusted, — and  the  mighty  account  still  lies 
uncancelled  between  the  creature  and  the 
Creator, — between  the  man  who,  in  refer- 
ence to  his  neighbours,  can  say,  I  give  every 
one  his  own,  and  out  of  my  own  I  expa- 
tiate in  acts  of  tenderness  and  generosity 
amongst,  them,  and  the  God  who  can  say, 
You  have  nothing  that  you  did  not  receive, 
and  all  you  ever  gave  is  out  of  the  ability 
which  I  have  conferred  upon  you,  and  this 
wealth  is  not  your  own,  but  his  who  be- 
stowed it,  and  who  now  calls  upon  you  to 
render  an  account  of  your  stewardship, — 
between  the  man  who  has  purchased,  by  a 
fraction  of  his  property,  the  good  will  of 
his  acquaintances,  and  the  God  who  asserts 
his  right  to  have  every  fraction  of  it  turned 
into  an  expression  of  gratitude,  and  devoted 
to  his  glory, — between  the  man  who  holds 
up  his  head  in  society,  because  his  justice, 
and  the  ministrations  of  his  liberality,  have 
distinguished  him,  and  the  God  who  de- 
mands the  returns  of  duty  and  of  acknow- 
ledgement, for  giving  him  the  fund  of.  these 
ministrations,  and  for  giving  what  no  money 
can  purchase, — for  putting  the  principle  of 
life  into  his  bosom, — for  furnishing  him 
with  all  his  senses,  and,  through  these  in- 
lets of  communication,  giving  him  a  part, 
and  a  property,  in  all  that  is  around  him, — 
for  sustaining  him  in  all  the  elements  of 
his  being,  and  conferring  upon  him  all  his 
capacities,  and  all  his  joys. 

Now,  what  we  wish  you  to  feel  is,  that 
the  judgment  of  men  may  be  upon  your 
side,  and  the  judgment  of  God  be  most 
righteously  against  you — that  while  from 
the  one  nothing  is  heard  but  admiration  and 
gratitude,  from  the  other,  there  may  be  such 
a  charge  of  sinfulness,  as,  when  set  in  or- 
der before  your  eye,  will  convince  you,  that 
he  by  whom  you  consist,  is  defrauded  of 
all  his  offerings, — that,  while  all  the  com- 
mon honesties  and  humanities  of  social  life, 
are  acquitted  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of 
others,  and  to  the  entire  purity  of  your 
own  reputation  in  the  world,  your  whole 
heart  and  conduct  may  be  utterly  pervaded 
by  the  habit  of  ungodliness, — that,  while 
not  one  claim  which  your  neighbours  can 
prefer,  is  not  met  most  readily,  and  dis- 
charged most  honourably,  the  great  claims 
of  the  Creator,  over  those  whom  he  has 
formed,  may  lie  altogether  unheeded ;  and 
he,  your  constant  benefactor,  be  not  loved, 
— and  he,  your  constant  preserver,  be  not 
depended  on, — and  he,  your  most  legiti- 
mate sovereign,  be  not  obeyed, — and  he, 
the  unseen  Spirit,  who  pervades  all,  and 
upholds  all,  be  neither  worshipped  in  spirit 
and  in  truth,  nor  vested  with  the  hold  of  a 
.rightful  supremacy  over  your  rebellious 
affections. 

God  is  not  man;  nor  can  we  measure 


what  is  due  to  him,  by  what  is  due  to  our 
fellows  in  society.  He  made  us,  and  he 
upholds  us,  and  at  his  will  the  life  which  is 
in  us,  will,  like  the  expiring  vapour,  pass 
away ;  and  the  tabernacle  of  the  body,  that 
curious  frame-work  which  man  thinks  he 
can  move  at  his  own  pleasure,  when  it  is 
only  in  God  that  he  moves,  as  well  as  lives, 
and  has  his  being,  will,  when  abandoned 
by  its  spirit,  mix  with  the  dust  out  of  which 
it  was  formed,  and  enter  again  into  the  un- 
conscious glebe  from  which  it  was  taken. 
It  was,  indeed,  a  wondrous  preferment  for 
unshapen  clay  to  be  wrought  into  so  fine  an 
organic  structure,  but  not  more  wondrous 
surely  than  that  the  soul  which  animates 
it  should  have  been  created  out  of  nothing ; 
and  what  shall  we  say,  if  the  compound 
being  so  originated,  and  so  sustained,  and 
depending  on  the  will  of  another  for  every 
moment  of  his  continuance,  is  found  to 
spurn  the  thought  of  God,  in  distaste  and 
disaffection  away  from  him  ?  "When  the 
spirit  returns  to  him  who  sitteth  on  the 
throne;  when  the  question  is  put,  Amid  all 
the  multitude  of  your  doings  in  the  world, 
what  have  you  done  unto  me  1  When  the 
rightful  ascendency  of  his  claims  over  every 
movement  of  the  creature  is  made  manifest 
by  him  who  judgeth  righteously ;  when 
the  high  but  just  pretensions  of  all  things 
being  done  to  his  glory  ;  of  the  entire  heart 
being  consecrated  in  every  one  of  its  re- 
gards to  his  person  and  character ;  of  the 
whole  man  being  set  apart  to  his  service, 
and  every  compromise  being  done  away, 
between  the  world  on  the  one  hand,  and 
that  Being  on  the  other,  who  is  jealous  of 
his  honour : — when  these  high  pretensions 
are  set  up  and  brought  into  comparison 
with  the  character  and  the  conduct  of  any 
one  of  us,  and  it  be  inquired  in  how  far  we 
have  rendered  unto  God  the  ever-breathing 
gratitude  that  is  due  to  him,  and  that  obe- 
dience which  we  should  feel  at  all  times  to 
be  our  task  and  our  obligation ;  how  shall 
we  fare  in  that  great  day  of  examination, 
if  it  be  found  that  this  has  not  been  the 
tendency  of  our  nature  at  all?  and  when 
he  who  is  not  a  man  shall  thus  enter  into 
judgment  with  us,  how  shall  we  be  able  to 
stand  ? 

Amid  all  the  praise  we  give  and  receiv 
from  each  other,  we  may  have  no  claims 
to  that  substantial  praise  which  cometh 
from  God  only.  Men  may  be  satisfied,  but 
it  followeth  not  that  God  is  satisfied.  Un- 
der a  ruinous  delusion  upon  this  subject, 
we  may  fancy  ourselves  to  be  rich,  and 
have  need  of  nothing,  while,  in  fact,  we  are 
naked,  and  destitute,  and  blind,  and  misera- 
ble. And  thus  it  is,  that  there  is  a  morality 
of  this  world,  which  stands  in  direct  oppo- 
sition to  the  humbling  representations  of 
the  Gospel;  which  cannot  comprehend 
what  it  means  by  the  utter  worthlessness 


v-1 


and  depravity  of  our  nature ;  which  pas- 
sionately repels  this  statement,  and  that  too 
on  its  own  consciousness  of  attainments 
superior  to  those  of  the  sordid,  and  the  profli- 
gate, and  the  dishonourable ;  and  is  fortified 
in  its  resistance  to  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus, 
by  the  flattering  testimonials  which  it  gathers 
to  its  respectability  and  its  worth  from  the 
various  quarters  of  human  society. 

A  just  sense  of  the  extent  of  claim  which 
God  has  upon  his  own  creatures,  would  lay 
open  this  hiding-place  of  security :  would 
lead  us  to  see,  that  to  do  some  things  for 
our  neighbours,  is  not  the  same  with  doing 
all  things  for  our  Maker;  that  a  natural 
principle  of  honesty  to  man,  is  altogether 
distinct  from  a  principle  of  entire  devoted- 
ness  to  God ;  that  the  tithe  which  we  be- 
stow upon  others  is  not  an  equivalent  for  a 
total  dedication  unto  God  of  ourselves,  and 
of  all  which  belongs  to  us ;  that  we  may 
present  those  around  us  with  many  an  of- 
fering of  kindness,  and  not  present  our 
bodies  a  living  sacrifice  to  God,  which  is 
our  reasonable  service ;  that  we  may  earn 
a  cheap  and  easy  credit  for  such  virtues 
as  will  satisfy  the  world,  and  be  utter 
strangers  to  the  self-denial,  and  the  spiritu- 
ality, and  the  mortification  of  every  earthly 
desire,  and  the  affection  for  the  things  that 
are  above ; — all  of  which  graces  enter  as 
essential  ingredients  into  the  sanctification 
of  the  gospel. 

But  this  leads  us  to  the  second  point  of 
distinction  between  the  judgment  of  man 
and  that  of  God, — even  his  clearer  and  more 
elevated  sense  of  that  holiness  without 
which  no  man  shall  see  his  face,  and  of 
that  moral  worth  without  which  we  are 
utterly  unfit  for  the  society  of  heaven. 

Man's  sense  of  the  right  and  the  wrong 
may  be  clear  and  intelligent  enough,  in  so 
far  as  that  part  of  character  is  concerned 
which  renders  us  fit  for  the  society  of  earth. 
Those  virtues,  without  which  a  community 
could  not  be  held  together,  are  both  urgently 
demanded  by  that  community,  and  highly 
appreciated  by  it.  The  morality  of  our 
earthly  life,  is  a  morality  which  is  in  direct 
subservience  to  our  earthly  accommodation ; 
and  seeing  that  equity,  and  humanity,  and 
civility,  are  in  such  visible  and  immediate 
connexion  with  all  the  security,  and  all  the 
enjoyment  which  they  spread  around  them, 
it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  they  should 
throw  over  the  character  of  him  by  whom 
tfiey  are  exhibited,  the  lustre  of  a  grateful 
and  a  superior  estimation.  And  thus  it  is, 
that  even  without  any  very  nice  or  exqui- 
site refinement  of  these  virtues,  many  an 
ordinary  character  will  pass; — and  should 
that  character  be  deformed  by  the  levities, 
or  even  by  the  profligacies  of  intemperance, 
he  who  sustains  it  may  still  bear  his  part 
among  the  good  men  of  society, — and  keep 
away  from  it  all  that  malignity,  and  all  that 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


41 


dishonesty,  which  have  a  disturbing  effect 
on  the  enjoyments  of  others,  and  these 
others  will  still  retain  their  kindliness  for 
the  good-humoured  convivialist, — and  he 
will  be  suffered  to  retain  his  own  taste,  and 
his  own  peculiarities ;  and,  though  it  may 
be  true,  that  chastity,  and  self-control,  and 
the  severer  virtues  of  personal  discipline 
and  restraint,  would  in  fact  give  a  far  more 
happy  and  healthful  tone  to  society  than  at 
present  it  possesses,  yet  this  influence  is 
not  so  conspicuous,  and  heedless  men  do  not 
look  so  far:  and  therefore  it  is,  that  in  spite 
of  his  many  outward  and  positive  trans- 
gressions of  the  divine  law,  many  an  indi- 
vidual can  be  referred  to,  who,  with  his 
average  share  of  the  integrities  and  the  sen- 
sibilities of  social  life,  has  stamped  upon 
him  the  currency  of  a  very  fair  e\*ry-day 
character,  who  moves  among  his  fellows 
without  disgrace,  and  meets  with  acceptance 
throughout  the  general  run  of  this  world's 
companies. 

If  such  a  measure  of  indulgence  be  ex- 
tended to  the  very  glaring  iniquities  of  the 
outer  man,  let  us  not  wonder  though  the 
errors  of  the  heart,  the  moral  diseases  of 
the  spirit,  the  disorganization  of  the  inner 
man,  with  its  turbulent  passions,  and  its 
worldly  affections,  and  its  utter  deadness  to 
the  consideration  of  an  overruling  God, 
should  find  a  very  general  indulgence 
among  our  brethren  of  the  species.  Bring 
a  man  to  sit  in  judgment  over  the  depravi- 
ties of  our  common  nature,  and  unless 
these  depravities  are  obviously  pointed 
against  the  temporal  good  of  society,  what 
can  we  expect,  but  that  he  will  connive  at 
the  infirmities  of  which  he  feels  himself  to 
be  so  large  and  so  habitual  a  partaker  ? 
What  can  we  expect  but  that  his  moral 
sense,  clouded  as  it  is  against  the  discern- 
ment of  his  own  exceeding  turpitude,  will 
also  perceive  but  dimly,  and  feel  but  ob- 
tusely, a  simiiar  turpitude  in  the  character 
of  others  ?  What  else  can  we  look  for,  than 
that  the  man  who  fires  so  promptly  on  the 
reception  of  an  injury,  will  tolerate  in  his 
fellow  all  the  vindictive  propensities  ? — or, 
that  the  man  who  feels  not  in  his  bosom  a 
single  movement  of  principle  or  of  tender- 
ness towards  God,  will  tolerate  in  another 
an  equally  entire  habit  of  ungodliness  ? — 
or,  that  the  man  who  surrenders  himself  to 
the  temptations  of  voluptuousness,  will  per- 
ceive no  enormity  of  character  at  all  in  the 
unrestrained  dissipations  of  an  acquaint- 
ance?— and,  in  a  word,  when  I  see  a  man 
whose  rights  I  have  never  invaded,  who 
has  no  complaint  of  personal  wrong  or 
provocation  to  allege  against  me,  and  who 
shares  equally  with  myself  in  nature's 
blindness  and  nature's  propensities,  I  will 
not  be  afraid  of  entering  into  judgment  with 
him ; — nor  shall  I  stand  in  awe  of  any  pene- 
trating glance  from  his  eye,  of  any  indig- 


42 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


[SERM. 


nant  remonstrance  from  his  offended  sense 
of  what  is  righteous,  though  there  be  made 
bare  to  his  inspection  all  my  devotedness 
to  the  world,  and  all  my  proud  disdain  at 
the  insolence  of  others,  and  all  my  anger 
at  the  sufferings  of  injustice,  and  all  my  in- 
difference to  the  God  who  formed  me,  and 
all  those  secrecies  of  an  unholy  and  an  un- 
heavenly  character,  which  are  to  be  brought 
out  into  full  manifestation  on  the  great  day 
of  the  winding  up  of  this  world's  history. 

It  is  a  very  capital  delusion  that  God  is 
like  unto  man, — "  Thou  thoughtest  that  I 
was  altogether  such  a  one  as  thyself;  but 
I  will  reprove  thee,  and  set  thy  sins  in  order 
before  thine  eyes.  Now  consider  this,  ye 
that  forget  God,  lest  I  tear  you  in  pieces, 
and  there  be  none  to  deliver." 

Man  and  man  may  come  together  in  judg- 
ment, and  retire  from  each  other  in  mutual 
complacency.  But  when  man  and  God 
thus  come  together,  there  is  another  prin- 
ciple, and  another  standard  of  examination. 
There  is  a  claim  of  justice  on  the  part  of 
the  Creator,  totally  distinct  from  any  claim 
which  a  fellow-creature  can  prefer, — and 
while  the  one  will  tolerate  all  that  is  con- 
sistent with  the  economy  and  the  interest 
of  the  society  upon  earth,  the  other  can 
tolerate  nothing  that  is  inconsistent  with 
the  economy  and  the  character  of  the  so- 
ciety in  heaven.  God  made  us  for  eternity. 
He  designed  us  to  be  the  members  of  a 
family  which  never  separates,  and  over 
which  he  himself  presides  in  the  visible 
glory  of  all  that  worth,  and  of  all  that  moral 
excellence,  which  belong  to  him.  He  formed 
us  at  first  after  his  own  likeness ;  and  ere  we 
can  be  re-admitted  into  that  paradise  from 
which  we  have  been  exiled,  we  must  be 
created  anew  in  the  image  of  God.  These 
spirits  must  be  made  perfect,  and  every  taint 
of  selfishness  and  impurity  be  done  away 
from  them.  Heaven  is  the  place  into  which 
nothing  that  is  unclean  or  unholy  can  enter ; 
and  we  are  not  preparing  for  our  inherit- 
ance there,  unless  there  be  gathering  upon 
us  here,  the  lineaments  of  a  celestial  cha- 
racter. Now,  a  man  may  be  accomplished 
in  the  moralities  of  civil  and  of  social  life, 
without  so  much  as  the  semblance  of  such 
a  character  resting  upon  him.  He  may 
have  no  share  whatsoever  in  the  tastes,  or 
in  the  enjoyments,  or  in  the  affections  of 
paradise.  There  might  not  be  a  single  trace 
of  the  mark  of  the  Lamb  of  God  upon  his 
forehead.  He  who  ponders  so  intelligently 
the  secrets  of  the  heart,  may  be  able  to 
discover  there  no  vestige  of  any  love  for 
himself, — no  sensibility  at  all  to  what  is 
amiable  or  to  what  is  great  in  the  character 
of  the  Godhead, — no  desire  whatever  after 
his  glory, — no  such  feeling  towards  him 
who  is  to  tabernacle  with  men,  as  will 
qualify  him  to  bear  a  joyful  part  in  the 
songs,  and  the  praises  of  that  city  which 


has  foundations.  Surrounded  as  he  is  by  the 
perishable  admiration  of  his  fellows,  he  is 
altogether  out  of  affection,  and  out  of  ac- 
quaintance, with  that  Being  with  whom  he 
has  to  do;  and  it  will  be  found,  on  the  great 
day  of  the  doings,  and  the  deliberations  of 
the  judgment-seat,  that  as  he  had  no  relish 
for  God  in  time,  so  is  he  utterly  unfit  for  his 
presence,  or  for  his  friendship  in  eternity. 

It  is  said  of  God,  that  he  created  man  after 
his  own  image,  and  it  was  upon  losing  this 
image  that  he  was  cast  out  of  paradise :  and 
ere  he  can  be  again  admitted,  the  image 
that  has  been  lost  must  again  be  formed  on 
him.  The  grand  qualification  for  the  so- 
ciety of  heaven  is,  that  each  of  its  members 
be  like  unto  God.  In  the  selfish  and  sensual 
society  of  earth,  there  is  many  a  feature  of 
resemblance  to  the  Godhead  that  is  most 
readily  dispensed  with ;  and  many  an  indi- 
vidual here  obtains  applause  and  toleration 
among  his  fellows,  though  there  is  not  one 
attribute  of  the  saintly  character  belonging 
to  him.  Let  him  only  fulfil  the  stipulations 
of  integrity,  and  smile  benignity  upon  his 
friends,  and  render  the  alacrity  of  willing 
and  valuable  services  to  those  who  have 
never  offended  him,  and  on  the  strength  of 
such  performances  as  these,  may  he  rise  to 
a  conspicuous  place  in  the  scale  of  this 
world's  reputation.  But  what  would  have 
been  the  sad  event  to  us,  had  these  been 
the  only  performances  which  went  to  illus- 
trate the  character  of  the  Godhead, — had 
he  been  a  God  of  whom  we  could  say  no 
more,  than  that  he  possessed  the  one  attri- 
bute of  an  unrelenting  justice,  or  even  that 
he  went  beyond  this  attribute,  in  the  exer- 
cise of  kindness  to  those  who  loved  him. 
and  in  acts  of  beneficence  to  those  who  had 
never  offended  him  ?  Do  we  not  owe  our 
place  and  our  prospect  to  the  love  of  God 
for  his  enemies?  Is  it  not  from  the  riches 
of  his  forbearance  and  long-suffering,  that 
we  draw  all  our  enjoyments  in  time,  and 
all  our  hopes  for  eternity?  Is  it  not  be- 
cause, though  grieved  with  sinners  every- 
day, he  still  waits  to  be  gracious ;  that  he 
holds  out  to  us,  his  heedless  and  wayward 
children,  the  beseeching  voice  of  reconcilia- 
tion ;  and  puts  on  such  an  aspect  of  tender- 
ness to  those  who  have  not  ceased  from 
their  birth  to  vex  his  Holy  Spirit,  and  to 
thwart  him  every  hour  by  the  perverseness 
of  their  disobedience  ?  This  is  the  godlike 
attribute  on  which  all  the  privileges  of  our 
fallen  race  are  suspended  ;  and  yet  against 
the  intimation  of  which,  nature,  when  urged 
by  the  provocations  of  injustice,  rises  in 
such  a  tumult  of  strong  and  impetuous  re- 
sistance. It  is  through  the  putting  forth  of 
this  attribute,  that  any  redeemed  sinners 
are  to  be  found  among  the  other  society  of 
heaven ;  but  into  which  no  member  shall 
be  admitted  out  of  this  corrupt  world,  till 
there  be  stamped  and  realized  on  his  own 


v.l 


person,  that  feature  of  the  divinity  to  which 
he  owes  a  distinction  so  exalted.  And  tell 
us,  ye  men  who  are  so  jealous  of  right  and 
of  honour,  who  take  sudden  fire  at  every 
insult,  and  suffer  the  slightest  imagination 
of  another's  contempt,  or  another's  unfair- 
ness, to  chase  from  your  bosom  every  feel- 
ing of  complacency; — ye  men  whom  every 
fancied  affront  puts  into  such  a  turbulence 
of  emotion,  and  in  whom  every  fancied  in- 
fringement stirs  up  the  quick  and  the  re- 
sentful appetite  for  justice — how  will  you 
stand  the  rigorous  application  of  that  test 
by  which  the  forgiven  of  God  are  ascer- 
tained, even  that  the  spirit  of  forgiveness  is 
in  them,  and  by  which  it  will  be  pronounced 
whether  you  are  indeed  the  children  of  the 
highest,  and  perfect  as  your  Father  in 
heaven  is  perfect  ? 

But  we  must  hasten  to  a  close,  and  will, 
therefore,  barely  suggest  some  other  mat- 
ters of  self-examination.  We  ask  you,  to 
think  of  the  facility  Avith  which  you  might 
obtain  the  approbation  of  men,  without  be- 
ing at  all  like  unto  God  in  the  holiness  of 
his  character.  We  ask  you  to  think  of  the 
delight  which  he  takes  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  what  is  pure,  and  moral,  and  righ- 
teous. We  ask  you  to  think  how  one  great 
object  of  his  creation,  was  to  diffuse  over 
the  face  of  it  a  multiplied  resemblance  of 
himself, — and  that,  therefore,  however  fit 
you  may  be  for  sustaining  your  part  in  the 
alienated  community  of  this  world,  you  are 
most  assuredly  unfit  for  the  great  and  the 
general  assembly  of  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect, — if  unlike  unto  God  who  is 
in  the  midst  of  them,  you  have  no  conge- 
nial delight  with  the  Father  of  all,  in  the 
contemplation  of  spiritual  excellence.  Now, 
are  you  not  blind  to  the  glories  and  the 
perfections  of  that  Being  who  realizes  this 
excellence  to  a  degree  that  is  infinite?  Does 
nut  the  creature  fill  up  all  your  avenues  of 
enjoyment,  while  the  Creator  is  forgotten? 
In  reference  to  God,  is  there  not  an  utter 
dulness  and  insensibility  of  all  your  re- 
gards to  him  ?  If  thus  blind  to  the  percep- 
tion of  that  supreme  virtue  and  loveliness 
which  reside  in  the  Godhead,  are  you  not, 
in  fact,  and  by  nature  an  outcast  from  the 
Godhead  ?  And  an  outcast  will  you  ever 
remain,  until  your  character  be  brought 
under  some  mighty  revolutionizing  influ- 
ence which  is  able  to  shift  the  currency  of 
your  desires,  and  to  over-rule  nature  with 
all  her  obstinate  habits,  and  all  her  fond 
and  favourite  predilections. 

These  are  topics  of  great  weight  and 
great  pregnancy ;  but  we  leave  them  to  your 
own  thoughts,  and  only  ask  you  at  present 
to  look  at  the  vivid  illustration  of  them  that 
may  be  gathered  out  of  the  history  of  Job. 
In  reference  to  his  fellows,  he  could  make 
a  triumphant  appeal  to  the  honour  and  the 
humanity  which  adorned  him, — he  could 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


43 


speak  of  the  splendid  career  of  beneficence 
that  he  had  run, — and  in  the  recollection  of 
the  plaudits  that  had  surrounded  him,  he 
could  boldly  challenge  the  inspection  of  all 
his  neighbours,  and  of  all  his  enemies,  on 
the  whole  tract  of  his  visible  history  in  the 
world.  He  protested  his  innocence  before 
them,  and  even  so  long  as  he  had  only  heard 
of  God  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear  did  he  ad- 
dress him  in  the  language  of  justification. 
But  when  God  at  length  revealed  himself, — 
when  the  worth  and  the  majesty  of  the 
Eternal  stood  before  him  in  visible  array, — 
when  the  actual  presence  of  his  Maker 
brought  the  claims  of  his  Maker  to  bear 
impressively  upon  his  conscience,  it  was 
not  merely  the  presence  of  the  power  of 
God  which  overawed  him ;  it  was  the  pre- 
sence of  the  righteousness  of  God  which 
convinced  him, — and  when,  from  the  bright 
assemblage  of  all  that  was  pure,  and  holy, 
and  graceful  in  the  aspect  of  the  Divinity, 
he  turned  the  eye  of  contemplation  down- 
ward upon  himself, — O  it  is  instructive  to 
be  told,  how  the  vaunting  patriarch  shrunk 
into  all  the  depths  of  self-abasement  at  so 
striking  a  manifestation ;  and  how  he  said, 
"  I  have  heard  of  thee  by  the  hearing  of  the 
ear,  but  now  mine  eye  seeth  thee;  where- 
fore I  abhor  myself,  and  repent  in  dust  and 
in  ashes." 

It  is  indeed  a  small  matter  to  be  judged 
of  man's  judgment.  He  who  judges  us  is 
God.  From  this  judgment  there  is  no  es- 
cape, and  no  hiding  place.  The  testimony 
of  our  fellows  will  as  little  avail  us  in  the 
day  of  judgment,  as  the  help  of  our  fel- 
lows will  avail  us  in  the  hour  of  death. 

We  may  as  well  think  of  seeking  a  refuge 
in  the  applause  of  men,  from  the  condem- 
nation of  God,  as  we  may  think  of  seeking 
a  refuge  in  the  power  or  the  skill  of  men, 
from  the  mandate  of  God,  that  our  breath 
shall  depart  from  us.  And,  have  you  never 
thought,  when  called  to  the  chamber  of  the 
dying  man, — when  you  saw  the  warning 
of  death  upon  his  countenance,  and  how  its 
symptoms  gathered  and  grew,  and  got  the 
ascendency  over  all  the  ministrations  of 
human  care  and  of  human  tenderness, — 
when  it  every  day  became  more  visible, 
that  the  patient  was  drawing  to  his  close, 
and  that  nothing  in  the  whole  compass  of 
art  or  any  of  its  resources,  could  stay  the 
advances  of  the  sure  and  the  last  malady, 
— have  you  never  thought,  on  seeing  the 
bed  of  the  sufferer  surrounded  by  other 
comforters  than  those  of  the  Patriarch, — 
when,  from  morning  to  night,  and  from 
night  to  morning,  the  watchful  family  sat 
at  his  couch,  and  guarded  his  broken  slum- 
bers, and  interpreted  all  his  signals,  and 
tried  to  hide  from  his  observation  the  tears 
which  attested  him  to  be  the  kindest  of 
parents, — when  the  sad  anticipation  spread 
its  gloomy  stillness  over  the  household,  and 


44 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[sERM. 


even  set  forth  an  air  of  seriousness  and  con- 
cern upon  the  men  of  other  families, — when 
you  have  witnessed  the  despair  of  friends, 
who  could  only  turn  them  to  cry  at  the 
spectacle  of  his  last  agonies,  and  had  seen 
how  little  it  was  that  weeping  children  and 
inquiring  neighbours  could  do  for  him, — 
when  you  have  contrasted  the  unrelenting 
necessity  of  the  grave,  with  the  feebleness 
of  every  surrounding  endeavour  toward  it, 
has  the  thought  never  entered  within  you, 
How  powerless  is  the  desire  of  man ! — how 
sure  and  how  resistless  is  the  decree  of  God! 
And  on  the  day  of  the  second  death,  will 
it  be  found,  that  it  is  not  the  imagination  of 
man,  but  the  sentence  of  God  that  shall 
stand.  When  the  sound  of  the  last  trumpet 
awakens  us  from  the  grave,  and  the  ensigns 
of  the  last  day  are  seen  on  the  canopy  of 
heaven,  and  the  tremor  of  the  dissolving  ele- 
ments is  felt  upon  the  earth,  and  the  Son  of 
God  with  his  mighty  angels  are  placed  around 
the  judgment-seat,and  the  men  of  all  ages  and 
of  all  nations  are  standing  before  it,  and  wait- 
ing the  high  decree  of  eternity, — then  will  it 
be  found,  that  as  no  power  of  man  can  save 
his  fellow  from  going  down  to  the  grave  of 
mortality,  so  no  testimony  of  man  can  save 
his  fellow  from  going  down  to  the  pit  of  con- 
demnation. Each  on  that  day  will  mourn 
apart.  Each  of  those  on  the  left  hand,  en- 
grossed by  his  own  separate  contemplation, 
and  overwhelmed  by  the  dark  and  the  louring 
futurity  of  his  own  existence,  will  not  have 
a  thought  or  a  sympathy  to  spare  for  those 
who  are  around  him.  Each  of  those  on  the 
right  hand  will  see  and  acquiesce  in  the  righ- 


teousness of  God,  and  be  made  to  acknow 
ledge,  that  those  things  which  are  highly 
esteemed  among  men  are  in  his  sight  an 
abomination.  When  the  judge  and  his  at- 
tendants shall  come  on  the  high  errand  of 
this  world's  destinies,  they  will  come  from 
God, — and  the  pure  principle  they  shall 
bring  along  with  them  from  the  sanctuary 
of  heaven,  will  be  the  entire  subordination 
of  the  thing  formed  to  him  who  formed  it. 
In  that  praise  which  upon  earthly  feelings 
the  creatures  offer  one  to  another,  we  behold 
no  recognition  of  this  principle  whatever; 
and  therefore  it  is,  that  it  is  so  very  differ- 
ent from  the  praise  which  cometh  from 
God  only.  And  should  any  one  of  these  crea- 
tures be  made  on  that  great  day  of  manifes- 
tation, to  see  his  nakedness, — should  the 
question,  what  have  you  done  unto  me? 
leave  him  speechless  ;  should  at  length,  con- 
victed of  his  utter  rebelliousness  against 
God,  he  try  to  find  among  the  companions 
of  his  pilgrimage,  some  attestation  to  the 
kindness  that  beamed  from  him  upon  his 
fellow  mortals  in  the  world, — they  will  not 
be  able  to  hide  him  from  the  coming  wrath. 
In  the  face  of  all  the  tenderness  they  ever  bore 
him,  the  severity  of  an  unreconciled  law- 
giver must  have  upon  him  its  resistless 
operation.  They  may  all  bear  witness  to 
the  honour  and  the  generosity  of  his  doings 
among  men,  but  there  is  not  one  of  them 
who  can  justify  him  before  God.  Nor  among 
all  those  who  now  yield  him  a  ready  testi- 
mony on  earth  will  he  find  a  day's-man  be- 
twixt him  and  his  Creator,  who  can  lay  his 
hand  upon  them  both. 


SERMON  VI. 

The  Necessity  of  a  Mediator  between  God  and  Man. 

'Neither  is  there  any  day's-man  betwixt  us,  that  might  lay  his  hands  upon  us  both." — Job  ix.  33. 


IV.  The  feeling  of  Job,  at  the  time  of  his 
uttering  the  complaint  which  is  recorded  in 
the  verses  before  us,  might  not  have  been 
altogether  free  of  a  reproachful  spirit  towards 
those  friends  who  had  refused  to  advocate  his 
cause,  and  who  had  even  added  bitterness 
to  his  distress  by  their  most  painful  and 
unwelcome  arguments.  And  well  may  it 
be  our  feeling,  and  that  too  without  the 
presence  of  any  such  ingredient  along  with 
it — that  there  is  not  a  man  upon  earth  who 
can  execute  the  office  of  a  day's-man  be- 
twixt us  and  God, — that  taking  the  com- 
mon sense  of  this  term,  there  is  none  who 
can  act  as  an  umpire  between  us  the  chil- 
dren of  ungodliness,  and  the  Lawgiver, 
whom  we  have  so  deeply  offended;  or 
taking  up  the  term  that  occurs  in  the  Sep- 


tuagint  version  of  the  Bible,  that  amongst 
all  our  brethren  of  the  species,  not  an  indi- 
vidual is  to  be  found  who,  standing  in  the 
place  of  a  mediator,  can  lay  his  hand  upon 
us  both.  It  is,  indeed,  very  possible,  that  all 
this  may  carry  the  understanding,  and  at 
the  same  time  have  all  the  inefficiency  of  a 
cold  and  general  speculation.  But  should 
the  Spirit,  whose  office  it  is  to  convince  us 
of  sin,  lend  the  power  of  his  demonstration 
to  the  argument, — should  he  divide  asunder 
our  thoughts,  and  enable  us  to  see  that, 
with  the  goodly  semblance  of  what  is  fair 
and  estimable  in  the  sight  of  man,  all  within 
us  is  defection  from  the  principle  of  loyalty 
to  God — that  while  we  yield  a  duty  as  the 
members  of  society,  the  duty  that  lies  upon 
us,  as  the  creatures  of  the  Supreme  Being 


VI.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


45 


is,  in  respect  of  the  spirit  of  allegiance  which 
gives  it  all  its  value,  fallen  away  from,  by 
every  one  of  us, — should  this  conviction 
cleave  to  us  like  an  arrow  sticking  fast,  and 
work  its  legitimate  influence,  in  causing  us 
to  feel  all  the  worthlessness  of  our  charac- 
ters, and  all  the  need  and  danger  of  our 
circumstances, — then  would  the  urgency  of 
the  case  be  felt  as  well  as  understood  by  us, 
— nor  should  we  be  long  of  pressing  the 
inquiry  of  where  is  the  day's-man  betwixt 
us  that  might  lay  his  hand  upon  us  both! 

And,  in  fact,  by  putting  the  Mediator 
away  from  you, — by  reckoning  on  a  state 
of  safety  and  acceptance  without  him,  what 
is  the  ground  upon  which,  in  reference  to 
God,  you  actually  put  yourselves?  We 
speak  not  at  present  of  the  danger  of  per- 
sisting in  such  an  attitude  of  independence, 
of  its  being  one  of  those  refuges  of  treache- 
ry in  which  the  good  man  of  the  world  is 
often  to  be  found, — of  its  being  a  state 
wherein  peace,  when  there  is  no  peace, 
lulls  him  by  its  flatteries  unto  a  deceitful 
repose.  We  are  not  at  present  saying  how 
ruinous  it  is  to  rest  a  security  upon  an  im- 
posing exterior,  when  in  fact  the  heart  is 
not  right  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  while  the 
reproving  eye  of  him,  who  judgeth  not  as 
man  judgeth,  is  upon  him,  or  how  poison- 
ous is  the  unction  that  comes  upon  the  soul 
from  those  praises  which  upon  the  mere 
exhibition  of  the  social  virtues,  are  rung 
and  circulated  through  society.  But, 
in  addition  to  the  danger,  let  us  insist  upon 
the  guilt  of  thus  casting  the  offered  Medi- 
ator away  from  us.  It  implies  in  the  most 
direct  possible  way,  a  sentiment  of  the  suffi- 
ciency of  our  own  righteousness.  It  is  ex- 
pressly saying  of  our  obedience,  that  it  is 
good  enough  for  God.  It  is  presumptuously 
thinking  that  what  pleases  the  world  may 
please  the  Maker  of  it,  even  though  he  him- 
self has  declared  it  to  be  a  world  lying  in 
wickedness.  There  is  an  aggravation  you 
will  perceive  in  all  this  which  goes  beyond 
the  simple  infraction  of  the  commandment. 
It  is,  after  the  infraction  of  it,  challenging 
for  some  remainder  or  for  some  semblance 
of  conformity,  the  reward  and  approbation 
of  the  God  whose  law  we  have  dishonour- 
ed. It  is,  after  we  have  braved  the  attribute 
of  the  Almighty's  justice,  by  incurring  its 
condemnation,  making  an  attempt  upon  the 
attribute  itself,  by  bringing  it  down  to  the 
standard  of  a  polluted  obedience-.  It  is,  after 
insulting  the  throne  of  God's  righteousness, 
embarking  in  the  still  deadlier  enterprize 
of  demolishing  all  the  stabilities  which 
guard  it ;  and  spoiling  it  of  that  truth  which 
has  pronounced  a  curse  on  the  children  of 
iniquity, — of  that  holiness  which  cannot 
dwell  with  evil, — of  that  unchangeableness 
which  will  admit  of  no  compromise  with 
sinners  that  can  violate  the  honours  of  the 
Godhead,  or  weaken  the  authority  of  his 


government  over  the  universe  that  he  has 
formed.  It  is  laying  those  paltry  accom- 
plishments which  give  you  a  place  of  dis- 
tinction among  your  fellows,  before  that 
God  of  whose  throne  justice  and  judgment 
are  the  habitation,  and  calling  upon  him  to 
connive  at  all  that  you  want,  and  to  look 
with  complacency  on  all  that  you  possess. 
It  is  to  bring  to  the  bar  of  judgment  the 
poor  and  the  starving  samples  of  virtue 
which  are  current  enough  in  a  world 
broken  loose  from  its  communion  with 
God,  and  to  defy  the  inspection  upon  them 
of  God's  eternal  Son,  and  of  the  angels  lie 
brings  along  with  him  to  witness  the  righ- 
teousness of  his  decisions.  Sin  has  indeed 
been  the  ruin  of  our  nature — but  this  re- 
fusal of  the  Saviour  of  sinners  lands  them 
in  a  perdition  still  deeper  and  more  irreco- 
verable. It  is  blindness  to  the  enormity  of 
sin.  It  is  equivalent  to  a  formally  an- 
nounced sentiment  on  your  part  that  your 
performances,  sinful  as  they  are,  and  pol- 
luted as  they  are,  are  good  enough  for  hea- 
ven. It  is  just  saying  of  the  offered  Saviour 
that  you  do  not  see  the  use  of  him.  It  is  a 
provoking  contempt  of  mercy  ;  and  causing 
the  measure  of  ordinary  guilt  to  overflow, 
by  heaping  the  additional  blasphemy  upon 
it,  of  calling  upon  God  to  honour  it  by  his 
rewards,  and  to  look  to  it  with  the  compla- 
cency of  his  approbation. 

We  cannot,  then,  we  cannot  draw  near 
unto  God,  by  a  direct  or  independent  ap- 
proach to  him.  And  who  in  these  circum- 
stances, is  fit  to  be  the  day's-man  betwixt 
you  1  There  is  not  a  fellow-mortal  from 
Adam  downward,  who  has  not  sins  of  his 
own  to  answer  for.  There  is  not  one  of 
them  who  has  not  the  sentence  of  guilt  in- 
scribed upon  his  own  forehead,  and  who  is 
not  arrested  by  the  same  unsealed  barrier 
which  keeps  you  at  an  inacessible  distance 
from  God.  There  is  not  one  of  them  whose 
entrance  into  the  holiest  of  all  would  not 
inflict  on  it  as  great  a  profanation,  as  if  any 
of  you  were  to  present  yourselves  before 
him,  who  dwelleth  there,  without  a  Media- 
tor. There  lieth  a  great  gulf  between  God 
and  the  whole  of  this  alienated  world ; 
and  after  looking  round  amongst  all  the 
men  of  all  its  generations,  we  may  say,  in 
the  language  of  the  text,  that  there  is  not  a 
day's-man  betwixt  us  who  can  lay  his  hand 
upon  us  both. 

What  we  aim  at  as  the  effect  of  all  these 
observations,  is,  that  you  should  feel  your 
only  security  to  be  in  the  revealed  and  the 
offered  mediator ;  that  you  should  seek  to 
him  as  your  only  effectual  hiding-place; 
and  who  alone,  in  the  whole  range  of  uni- 
versal being,  is  able  to  lay  his  hand  upon 
you,  and  shield  you  from  the  justice  of 
the  Almighty,  and  to  lay  his  hand  upon 
God,  and  stay  the  fury  of  the  avenger.  By 
him  the  deep  atonement  has  been  rendered. 


46 


EPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


[sERJf. 


By  him  the  mystery  has  been  accomplish- 
ed, which  angels  desired  to  look  into.  By 
him  such  a  sacrifice  for  sin  has  been  offered, 
as  that,  in  the  acceptance  of  the  sinner, 
every  attribute  of  the  Divinity  is  exalted ; 
and  the  throne  of  the  Majesty  in  the  hea- 
vens, though  turned  into  a  throne  of  grace, 
is  still  upheld  in  all  its  firmness,  and  in  all 
its  glory.  Through  the  unchangeable  priest- 
hood of  Christ,  the  vilest  of  sinners  may 
draw  nigh,  and  receive  of  that  mercy  which 
has  met  with  truth,  and  of  that  peace  which 
is  in  close  alliance  with  righteousness  ;  and 
without  one  perfection  of  the  Godhead 
being  surrendered  by  this  act  of  forgiveness, 
all  are  made  to  receive  a  higher  and  more 
wondrous  manifestation ;  for  though  he 
will  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty,  yet  there 
is  no  place  for  vengeance,  when  all  their 
guilt  is  cleared  away  by  the  blood  of  the  ever- 
lasting covenant ;  and  though  he  executeth 
justice  upon  the  earth,  yet  he  can  be  just  while 
the  justifier  of  them  who  believe  in  Jesus. 

The  work  of  our  redemption  is .  every 
where  spoken  of  as  an  achievement  of 
strength — as  done  by  the  putting  forth  of 
mighty  energies — as  the  work  of  one  who, 
travelling  in  his  own  unaided  greatness, 
had  to  tread  the  wine-press  alone ;  and  who, 
when  of  the  people  there  was  none  to  help 
him,  did  by  his  own  arm  bring  unto  him 
salvation.  To  move  aside  the  obstacle 
which  beset  the  path  of  acceptance  ;  to  re- 
instate the  guilty  into  favour  with  the  of- 
fended and  unchangeable  Lawgiver :  to 
avert  from  them  the  execution  of  that  sen- 
tence to  which  there  were  staked  the  truth 
and  justice  of  the  Divinity  ;  to  work  out  a 
pardon  for  the  disobedient,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  uphold  in  all  their  strength  the  pillars 
of  that  throne  which  they  had  insulted;  to  in- 
tercept the  defied  penalties  of  the  law,  and  at 
the  same  time  magnify  it,  and  to  make  it  ho- 
nourable ;  thusto  bend,  as  it  were,  the  holy  and 
everlasting  attributes  of  God,  and  in  doing 
so,  to  pour  over  them  the  lustre  of  a  high  and 
awful  vindication, — this  was  an  enterprise  of 
such  height,  and  depth,  and  length,  as  no  cre- 
ated being  could  fulfil,  and  which  called  forth 
the  might  and  the  counsel  of  him  who  is  the 
power  of  God,  and  the  wisdom  of  God. 

When  no  man  could  redeem  his  neigh- 
bour fto»  the  grave, — God  himself  found 
out  a  rau*om.  When  not  one  of  the  beings 
whom  he  had  formed  could  offer  an  ade- 
quate expiation, — did  the  Lord  of  hosts 
awaken  the  sword  of  vengeance  against  his 
fellow.  When  there  was  no  messenger 
among  the  angels  who  surrounded  his 
throne,  that  could  both  proclaim  and  pur- 
chase peace  for  a  guilty  world, — did  God 
manifest  in  the  flesh  descend  in  shrouded 
majesty  amongst  our  earthly  tabernacles, 
and  pour  out  his  soul  unto  the  death  for  us, 
and  purchase  the  church  by  his  own  blood, 
and  bursting  away  from  the  grave  which 


could  not  hold  him,  ascend  to  the  throne 
of  his  appointed  mediatorship;  and  now  he, 
the  first  and  the  last,  who  was  dead  and  is 
alive,  and  maketh  intercession  for  trans- 
gressors, is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost 
all  who  come  unto  God  through  him  ;  and 
standing  in  the  breach  between  a  holy  God 
and  the  sinners  who  have  offended  him, 
does  he  make  reconciliation,  and  lay  his 
hand  upon  them  both. 

But  it  is  not  enough  that  the  Mediator  be 
appointed  by  God, — he  must  be  accepted 
by  man.  And  to  incite  our  acceptance  does 
he  hold  forth  every  kind  and  constraining 
argument.  He  casts  abroad,  over  the  whole 
face  of  the  world,  one  wide  and  universal 
assurance  of  welcome.  "  Whosoever  cometh 
unto  me  shall  not  be  cast  out."  "  Come 
unto  me  all  ye  who  labour  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  "  Where 
sin  hath  abounded,  grace  hath  much  more 
abounded."  "  Whatsoever  ye  ask  in  my 
name  ye  shall  receive."  The  path  of  access 
to  Christ  is  open  and  free  of  every  obstacle, 
which  kept  fearful  and  guilty  man  at  an 
impracticable  distance  from  the  jealous  and 
unpacified  Lawgiver.  He  hath  put  aside 
the  obstacle,  and  now  stands  in  its  place. 
Let  us  only  go  in  the  way  of  the  Gospel, 
and  we  shall  find  nothing  between  us  and 
God  but  the  author  and  finisher  of  the  Gos- 
pel,— who,  on  the  one  hand,  beckons  to  him 
the  approach  of  man  with  every  token  of 
truth  and  of  tenderness ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  advocates  our  cause  with  God,  and 
fills  his  mouth  with  arguments,  and  pleads 
that  very  atonement  which  was  devised  in 
love  by  the  Father,  and  with  the  incense 
of  which  he  was  well  pleased,  and  claims, 
as  the  fruit  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  all 
who  put  their  trust  in  him  ;  and  thus,  laying 
his  hand  upon  God,  turns  him  altogether 
from  the  fierceness  of  his  indignation. 

But  Jesus  Christ  is  something  more  than 
the  agent  of  our  justification, — he  is  the 
agent  of  our  sanctification  also.  Standing 
between  us  and  God,  he  receives  from  him 
of  that  Spirit  which  is  called  the  promise 
of  the  Father,  and  he  pours  it  forth  in  free 
and  generous  dispensation  on  those  who 
believe  in  him.  Without  this  spirit  there 
may,  in  a  few  of  the  goodlier  specimens  of 
our  race,  be  within  us  the  play  of  what  is 
kindly  in  constitutional  feeling,  and  with- 
out us  the  exhibition  of  what  is  seemly  in 
a  constitutional  virtue ;  and  man,  thus  stand- 
ing over  us  in  judgment,  may  pass  his  ver- 
dict of  approbation ;  and  all  that  is  visible 
in  our  doings  may  be  pure  as  by  the  ope- 
ration of  snow  water.  But  the  utter  irre- 
ligiousness  of  our  nature  will  remain  as 
entire  and  as  obstinate  as  ever.  The  aliena- 
tion of  our  desires  from  God  will  persist 
with  unsubdued  vigour  in  our  bosoms ;  and 
sin,  in  the  very  essence  of  its  elementary 
principle,  will  still  lord  it  over  the  inner 


VI.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


47 


man  with  all  the  power  of  its  original  as- 
cendency,— till  the  deep,  and  the  searching, 
and  the  pervading  influence  of  the  love  of 
God  be  shed  abroad  in  our  hearts  by  the 
Holy  Ghost.  This  is  the  work  of  the  great 
Mediator.  This  is  the  might  and  the  mys- 
tery of  that  regeneration,  without  which 
we  shall  never  see  the  kingdom  of  God. 
This  is  the  office  of  Him  to  whom  all  power 
is  committed,  both  in  heaven  and  in  earth, — 
who  reigning  In  heaven,  and  uniting  its 
mercy  with  its  righteousness,  causes  them 
to  flow  upon  earth  in  one  stream  of  celes- 
tial influence ;  and  reigning  on  earth,  and 
working  mightily  in  the  hearts  of  its  peo- 
ple, makes  them  meet  for  the  society  of 
heaven, — thereby  completing  the  wonderful 
work  of  our  redemption,  by  which,  on  the 
one  hand  he  brings  the  eye  of  a  holy  God 
to  look  approvingly  on  the  sinner,  and  on 
the  other  hand,  makes  the  sinner  fit  for  the 
fellowship,  and  altogether  prepared  for  the 
enjoyment  of  God. 

Such  are  the  great  elements  of  a  sinner's 
religion.  But  if  you  turn  from  the  pre- 
scribed use  of  them,  the  wrath  of  God 
abideth  on  you.  If  you  kiss  not  the  Son 
while  he  is  in  the  way,  you  provoke  his 
anger,  and  when  once  it  begins  to  burn,  they 
only  are  blessed  who  have  put  their  trust  in 
him.  If,  on  the  fancied  sufficiency  of  a 
righteousness  that  is  without  godliness,  you 
neglect  the  great  salvation,  you  will  not 
escape  the  severities  of  that  day,  when  the 
Being  with  whom  you  have  to  do  shall  en- 
ter with  you  into  judgment ;  and  it  is  only 
by  fleeing  to  the  Mediator,  as  you  would 
from  a  coming  storm,  that  peace  is  made 
between  you  and  God,  and  that,  sanctified 
by  the  faith  which  is  in  Jesus,  you  are 
made  to  abound  in  such  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness, as  shall  be  to  praise  and  glory  at  the 
last  and  the  solemn  reckoning. 

Before  we  conclude,  we  shall  just  advert 
to  another  sense,  in  which  the  Mediator  be- 
tween God  and  man  may  be  affirmed  to 
have  laid  his  hand  upon  them  bo  h : — He 
fills  up  that  mysterious  interval  which  lies 
between  every  corporeal  being,  and  the 
God  who  is  a  spirit  and  is  invisible. 

No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time, — 
and  the  power  which  is  unseen  is  terrible. 
Fancy  trembles  before  its  own  picture,  and 
superstition  throws  its  darkest  imagery  over 
it.  The  voice  of  the  thunder  is  awful,  but 
not  so  awful  as  the  conception  of  that  angry 
being  who  sits  in  mysterious  concealment, 
and  gives  it  all  its  energy.  In  these  sketches 
of  the  imagination,  fear  is  sure  to  predomi- 
nate. We  gather  an  impression  of  Nature's 
God,  from  those  scenes  where  Nature 
threatens,  and  looks  dreadful.  We  speak 
not  of  the  theology  of  the  schools,  and  the 
empty  parade  of  its  demonstrations.  We 
speak  of  the  theology  of  actual  feeling, — 
that  theology  which  is  sure  to  derive  its 


lessons  from  the  quarter  whence  the  human 
heart  derives  its  strongest  sensations, — and 
we  refer  both  to  your  own  feelings,  and  to 
the  history  of  this  world's  opinions,  if  God 
is  more  felt  or  more  present  to  your  ima- 
ginations in  the  peacefulness  of  spring,  or 
the  loveliness  of  a  summer  landscape,  than 
when  winter  with  its  mighty  elements 
sweeps  the  forest  of  its  leaves, — when  the 
rushing  of  the  storm  is  heard  upon  our 
windows,  and  man  flees  to  cover  himself 
from  the  desolation  that  walketh  over  the 
surface  of  the  world. 

If  nature  and  her  elements  be  dreadful, 
how  dreadful  that  mysterious  and  unseen 
Being,  who  sits  behind  the  elements  he  has 
formed,  and  gives  birth  and  movement  to 
all  things !  It  is  the  mystery  in  which  he 
is  shrouded, — it  is  that  dark  and  unknown 
region  of  spirits,  where  he  reigns  in  glory, 
and  stands  revealed  to  the  immediate  view 
of  his  worshippers, — it  is  the  inexplicable 
manner  of  his  being  so  far  removed  from 
that  province  of  sense,  within  which  the 
understanding  of  man  can  expatiate, — it  is 
its  total  unlikeness  to  all  that  nature  can 
furnish  to  the  eye  of  the  body,  or  to  the 
conception  of  the  mind,  which  animates 
it, — it  is  all  this  which  throws  the  Being 
who  formed  us  at  a  distance  so  inaccessi- 
ble,— which  throws  an  impenetrable  mantle 
over  his  way,  and  gives  us  the  idea  of  some 
dark  and  untrodden  interval  betwixt  the 
glory  of  God,  and  all  that  is  visible  and 
created. 

Now,  Jesus  Christ  has  lifted  up  this  mys- 
terious veil,  or  rather  he  has  entered  within 
it.  He  is  now  at  the  right  hand  of  God ; 
and  though  the  brightness  of  his  Father's 
glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  person, 
he  appeared  to  us  in  the  palpable  charac- 
ters of  a  man  ;  and  those  high  attributes  of 
truth,  and  justice,  and  mercy,  which  could 
not  be  felt  or  understood,  as  they  existed 
in  the  abstract  and  invisible  Deity,  are 
brought  down  to  our  conceptions  in  a  man- 
ner the  most  familiar  and  impressive,  by 
having  been  made,  through  Jesus  Christ, 
to  flow  in  utterance  from  human  lips,  and 
to  beam  in  expressive  physiognomy  from  a 
human  countenance. 

So  long  as  I  had  nothing  before  me  but 
the  unseen  spirit  of  God,  my  mind  wandered 
in  uncertainty,  my  busy  fancy  was  free  to 
expatiate,  and  its  images  filled  my  heart 
with  disquietude  and  terror.  But  in  the 
life,  and  person,  and  history  of  Jesus  Christ, 
the  attributes  of  the  Deity  are  brought  down 
to  the  observation  of  the  senses ;  and  I  can 
no  longer  mistake  them,  when  in  the  Son, 
who  is  the  express  image  of  his  Father,  I 
see  them  carried  home  to  my  understanding 
by  the  evidence  and  expression  of  human 
organs, — when  I  see  the  kindness  of  the 
Father,  in  the  tears  which  fell  from  his  Son 
at  the  tomb  of  Lazarus, — when  I  see  his 


48 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


justice  blended  with  his  mercy,  in  the  ex- 
clamation, "  O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,"  by 
Jesus  Christ ;  uttered  with  a  tone  more 
tender  than  the  sympathy  of  human  bosom 
ever  prompted,  while  he  bewailed  the  sen- 
tence of  its  desolation, — and  in  the  look  of 
energy  and  significance  which  he  threw 
upon  Peter,  I  feel  the  judgment  of  God 
himself,  flashing  conviction  upon  my  con- 
science, and  calling  me  to  repent  while  his 
wrath  is  suspended,  and  he  still  waiteth  to 
be  gracious. 

And  it  was  not  a  temporary  character 
which  he  assumed.  The  human  kindness, 
and  the  human  expression  which  makes 
it  intelligible  to  us,  remained  with  him 
till  his  latest  hour.  They  survived  his  re- 
surrection, and  he  has  carried  them  along 
with  him  to  the  mysterious  place  which  he 
now  occupies.  How  do  I  know  all  this  ? 
I  know  it  from  his  history ;  I  hear  it  in  the 
parting  words  to  his  mother  from  the  cross; 


I  see  it  in  his  unaltered  form  when  he  rose 
triumphant  from  the  grave ;  I  perceive  it 
in  his  tenderness  for  the  scruples  of  the 
unbelieving  Thomas;  and  I  am  given  to 
understand,  that  as  his  body  retained  the 
impression  of  his  own  sufferings,  so  his 
mind  retains  a  sympathy  for  ours,  as  warm, 
and  gracious,  and  endearing,  as  ever.  We 
have  a  Priest  on  high,  who  is  touched  with 
a  fellow  feeling  of  our  infirmities.  My  soul, 
unable  to  support  itself  in  its  aeriai  flight 
among  the  spirits  of  the  invisible,  now  re- 
poses on  Christ,  who  stands  revealed  to  my 
conceptions  in  the  figure,  the  countenance, 
the  heart,  the  sympathies  of  a  man.  He 
has  entered  within  that  veil  which  hung 
over  the  glories  of  the  Eternal ;  and  the 
mysterious  inaccessible  throne  of  God  is 
divested  of  all  its  tenors,  when  I  think  that 
a  friend  who  bears  the  form  of  the  species, 
and  knows  its  infirmities,  is  there  to  plead 
for  me. 


SERMON  VII. 

The  Folly  of  Men  measuring  themselves  by  themselves. 

"  For  we  dare  not  make  ourselves  of  the  number,  or  compare  ourselves  with  some  that  commend  themselves  ; 
but  they,  measuring  themselves  by  themselves,  and  comparing  themselves  among  themselves,  are  not 
wise." — 2  Corinthians,  x.  12. 


St.  Paul  addressed  these  words  to  the 
members  of  a  Christian  congregation ;  and 
were  we  to  confine  their  application  to 
those  people  of  the  present  day,  who  in 
circumstances,  bear  the  nearest  resemblance 
to  them,  we  would,  in  the  present  discourse, 
have  chiefly  to  do  with  the  more  serious 
and  declared  professors  of  the  Gospel.  Nor 
should  we  be  long  at  a  loss  for  a  very  ob- 
servable peculiarity  amongst  them,  against 
which  to  point  the  admonition  of  the 
Apostle.  For,  in  truth  there  is  a  great  dis- 
position with  the  members  of  the  religious 
world,  to  look  away  from  the  unalterable 
standard  of  God's  will,  and  to  form  a  stand- 
ard of  authority  out  of  the  existing  attain- 
ments of  those  whom  they  conceive  to  be 
in  the  faith.  We  know  nothing  that  has 
contributed  more  than  this  to  reduce  the 
tone  of  practical  Christianity.  We  know 
not  a  more  insidious  security,  than  that 
which  steals  over  the  mind  of  him  who 
when  he  looks  to  another  of  eminent  name 
for  godliness,  or  orthodoxy,  and  perceives 
in  him  a  certain  degree  of  conformity  to  the 
world,  or  a  certain  measure  of  infirmity  of 
temper,  or  a  certain  abandonment  of  him- 
self to  the  natural  enjoyments  of  luxury,  or 
of  idle  gossiping,  or  of  commenting  with 
malignant  pleasure  on  the  faults  and  fail- 
ings of  the  absent,  thinks,  that  upon  such 


an  example,  it  is  safe  for  him  to  allow  in 
himself  an  equal  extent  of  indulgence ;  and 
to  go  the  same  lengths  of  laxity  or  trans- 
gression ;  and  thus,  instead  of  measuring 
himself  by  the  perfect  law  of  the  Almighty, 
and  making  conformity  to  it  the  object  of 
his  strenuous  aspirings, — does  he  measure 
himself  and  compare  himself  with  his  fel- 
low-mortals,— and  pitches  his  ambition  to 
no  greater  height  than  the  accidental  level 
which  obtains  amongst  the  members  of  his 
own  religious  brotherhood,  and  finds  a  quiet 
repose  in  the  mediocrity  of  their  actual 
accomplishments,  and  of  their  current  and 
conventional  observations. 

There  is  much  in  this  consideration  to 
alarm  many  of  those  who  within  the  pale 
of  a  select  and  peculiar  circle,  look  upon 
themselves  as  firmly  seated  in  an  enclosure 
of  safety.  They  may  be  recognized  by  the 
society  around  them  as  one  of  us;  and  they 
may  keep  the  even  pace  of  acquirement 
along  with  them;  and  they  may  wear  all 
those  marks  of  distinction  which  separate 
them  from  the  general  and  unprofessing 
public ;  and,  in  respect  of  Church,  and  of 
sacrament,  and  of  family  observances,  and 
of  exclusive  preference  for  each  other's 
conversation,  and  of  meetings  for  prayer 
and  the  other  exercises  of  Christian  fellow- 
ship, they  may  stand  most  decidedly  out 


VII.] 


DEPRAVITY    OF    HUMAN    NATURE. 


49 


from  the  world,  and  most  decidedly  in  with 
those  of  their  own  cast  and  their  own  de- 
nomination ; — and  yet,  in  fact,  there  may 
he  Individuals,  even  of  such  a  body  as  this, 
who  instead  of  looking  upwards  to  the 
Being  with  whom  they  have  to  do,  are 
looking  no  further  than  to  the  testimony 
and  example  of  those  who  are  immediately 
around  them;  who  count  it  enough  that 
they  are  highly  esteemed  among  men;  who 
feel  no  earnestness,  and  put  forth  no  strength 
■11  the  pursuit  of  a  lofty  sanctification  ;  who 
are  not  living  as  in  the  sight  of  God,  and 
are  not  in  the  habit  of  bringing  their  con- 
duct into  measurement  with  the  principles 
of  that  great  day,  when  God's  righteousness 
shall  be  vindicated  in  the  eyes  of  all  his 
creatures  ;  who,  satisfied,  in  short,  with  the 
countenance  of  the  people  of  their  own 
communion,  come  under  the  charge  of  my 
text,  that  measuring  themselves  by  them- 
selves and  comparing  themselves  among 
themselves,  they  are  not  wise. 

Now,  though  this  habit  of  measuring 
ourselves  by  ourselves,  and  comparing  our- 
selves among  ourselves,  be  charged  by  the 
Apostle,  in  the  text,  against  the  professors 
of  a  strict  and  peculiar  Christianity  ;  it  is 
a  habit  so  universally  exemplified  in  the 
world,  and  ministers  such  a  deep  and  fatal 
security  to  the  men  of  all  characters  who 
live  in  it,  and  establishes  in  their  hearts  so 
firm  a  principle  of  resistance  against  the 
tumbling  doctrines  of  the  New  Testament, 
that  we  trust  we  shall  be  excused  if  we 
leave  out,  for  a  time,  the  consideration  of 
those  who  are  within  the  limits  of  the 
Church,  and  dwell  on  the  operation  of  this 
habit  among  those  who  are  without  these 
limits;  and  going  beyond  that  territory  of 
lis ■■!■  vat  ion  to  which  the  words  now  read 
would  appear  to  restrict  us,  we  shall  attend 
to  the  effects  of  that  principle  in  human 
nature  which  are  there  adverted  to,  in  as 
far  as  it  serves  to  fortify  the  human  mind 
against  an  entire  reception  of  the  truths  and 
the  overtures  of  the  Gospel. 

It  may  be  remarked,  by  way  of  illustra- 
tion, that  the  habit  condemned  in  the  text  is 
an  abundant  cause  of  that  vanity  which  is 
founded  on  a  sense  of  our  importance.  If, 
instead  of  measuring  ourselves  by  our  com- 
panions and  equals  in  society,  we  brought 
ourselves  into  measurement  with  our  supe- 
riors, it  might  go  far  to  humble  and  chastise 
•>ur  vanity.  The  rustic  conqueror  on  some 
arena  of  strength  or  of  dexterity,  stands 
proudly  elevated  among  his  fellow-rustics 
who  are  around  him.  Place  him  beside  the  re- 
turned warrior,  who  can  tell  of  the  hazards, 
and  the  achievements,  and  the  desperations 
of  the  great  battle  in  which  he  had  shared 
the  renown  and  the  danger;  and  he  will 
stand  convicted  of  the  humility  of  his  own 
performances.  The  man  who  is  most  keen, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  most  skilful  in  the 


busy  politics  of  his  corporation,  triumphs  in 
the  consciousness  of  that  sagacity  by  which 
he  has  battled  and  overpowered  the  devices 
of  his  many  antagonists.  But  take  him  to 
the  high  theatre  of  Parliament,  and  brinfj 
him  into  fellowship  with  the  man  who  has 
there  won  the  mighty  game  of  superiority, 
and  he  will  feel  abashed  at  the  insignifi- 
cance of  Ms  own  tamer  and  homelier  pre- 
tensions. The  richest  individual  of  the 
district  struts  throughout  his  neighbour- 
hood in  all  the  glories  of  a  provincial  emi- 
nence. Carry  him  to  the  metropolis  of  the 
empire,  and  he  hides  bis  diminished  head 
under  the  brilliancy  of  rank  far  loftier  than 
his  own,  and  equipage  more  splendid  than 
that  by  which  he  gathers  from  his  sur- 
rounding tributaries,  the  homage  of  a  re- 
spectful admiration.  The  principle  of  all  this 
vanity  was  seen  by  the  discerning  eye  of 
the  Apostle.  It  is  put  down  for  our  instruc- 
tion in  the  text  before  us.  And  if  we,  instead 
of  looking  to  our  superiority  above  the  level 
of  our  immediate  acquaintanceship,  pointed 
an  eye  of  habitual  observation  to  our  inferi- 
ority beneath  the  level  of  those  in  society 
who  are  more  dignified  and  more  accomplish- 
ed than  ourselves, — such  a  habit  as  this  might 
shed  a  graceful  humility  over  our  charac- 
ters, and  save  us  from  the  pangs  and  the 
delusions  of  a  vanity  which  was  not  made 
for  man. 

And  let  it  not  be  said  of  those,  who,  in  the 
more  exalted  walks  of  life,  can  look  to  few 
or  to  none  above  them,  that  they  can  derive 
no  benefit  from  the  principle  of  my  text,  be- 
cause they  are  placed  beyond  the  reach  of 
its  application.  It  is  true  of  him  who  is  on 
the  very  pinnacle  of  human  society,  that 
standing  sublimely  there,  he  can  cast  a 
downward  eye  on  all  the  ranks  and  varieties 
of  the  world.  But,  though  in  the  act  of 
looking  beneath  him  to  men,  he  may  gather 
no  salutary  lesson  of  humility — the  lesson 
should  come  as  forcibly  upon  him  as  upon 
any  of  his  fellow  mortals,  in  the  act  of 
looking  above  him  to  God.  Instead  of  com- 
paring himself  with  the  men  of  this  world, 
let  hirn  leave  the  world  and  expatiate  in 
thought  over  the  tracts  of  immensity, — let 
him  survey  the  mighty  apparatus  of  worlds 
scattered  in  such  profusion  over  its  distant 
regions;  let  him  bring  the  whole  field  of  the 
triumphs  of  his  ambition  into  measurement 
with  the  magnificence  that  is  above  him, 
and  around  him, — above  all,  let  him  rise 
through  the  ascending  series  of  angels,  and 
principalities,  and  powers,  to  the  throne  of 
the  august  Monarch  on  whom  all  is  sus- 
pended,— and  then  will  the  lofty  imagina- 
tion of  his  heart  be  cast  down,  and  all 
vanity  die  within  him. 

Now,  if  all  this  be  obviously  true  of  thai 
vanity  which  is  founded  on  a  sense  of  our 
importance,  might  it  not  be  as  true  of  that 
complacency  which  is  founded  on  a  sense 


50 


DEPRAVITY   OF    HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


of  our  worth.  Should  it  not  lead  us  to  sus- 
pect the  ground  of  this  complacency,  and  to 
fear  lest  a  similar  delusion  be  misleading  us 
into  a  false  estimate  of  our  own  righteous- 
ness ?  When  we  feel  a  sufficiency  in  the 
act  of  measuring  ourselves  by  ourselves, 
and  comparing  ourselves  among  ourselves, 
is  it  not  the  average  virtue  of  those  around 
us  that  is  the  standard  of  measulement?  Do 
we  not  at  the  time,  form  our  estimate  of 
human  worth  upon  the  character  of  man  as 
it  actually  is,  instead  of  forming  it  upon  the 
high  standard  of  that  pure  and  exalted  law 
which  tells  us  what  the  character  ought  to 
be?  Is  it  not  thus  that  many  are  lulled  into 
security,  because  they  are  as  good  or  better 
than  their  neighbours?  This  may  do  for 
earth,  but  the  question  we  want  to  press  is, 
will  it  do  for  heaven?  It  may  carry  us 
through  life  with  a  fair  and  equal  character 
in  society,  and  even  when  we  come  to  die, 
it  may  gain  us  an  epitaph  upon  our  tomb- 
stones. But  after  death  cometh  the  judg- 
ment; and  in  that  awful  day  judgment  is 
laid  to  the  line  and  righteousness  to  the 
plummet,  every  refuge  of  lies  will  be  swept 
away,  and  every  hiding-place  of  security  be 
laid  open. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  delusion, 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  are  posting 
their  infatuated  way  to  a  ruined  and  un- 
done eternity.  The  good  man  of  society 
lives  on  the  applause  and  cordiality  of  his 
neighbours.  He  compares  himself  with  his 
fellow-men ;  and  their  testimony  to  the 
graces  of  his  amiable,  and  upright,  and  ho- 
nourable character,  falls  like  the  music  of 
paradise  upon  his  ears.  And  it  were  also 
the  earnest  of  paradise,  if  these  his  flatterers 
and  admirers  in  time  were  to  be  his  judges 
in  the  day  of  reckoning.  But,  alas  !  they 
will  only  be  his  fellow-prisoners  at  the  bar. 
The  eternal  Son  of  God  will  preside  over 
the  solemnities  of  that  day.  He  will  take 
the  judgment  upon  himself,  and  he  will 
conduct  it  on  his  own  lofty  standard  of  ex- 
amination, and  not  on  the  maxims  or  the 
habits  of  a  world  lying  in  wickedness.  O 
ye  deluded  men!  who  carry  your  heads  so 
high,  and  look  so  safe  and  so  satisfied  amid 
the  smooth  and  equal  measurements  of 
society, — do  you  ever  think  how  you  are 
to  stand  the  admeasurement  of  Christ  and 
of  his  angels?  and  think  you  that  the 
fleeting  applause  of  mortals,  sinful  as  your- 
selves, will  carry  an  authority  over  the 
mind  of  your  judge,  or  prescribe  to  him 
that  solemn  award  which  is  to  fix  you  for 
eternity? 

In  the  prosecution  of  the  following  dis- 
course, let  us  first  attempt  to  expose  the 
folly  of  measuring  ourselves  by  ourselves, 
and  comparing  ourselves  amongst  our- 
selves ;  and  then  point  out  the  wisdom  op- 
posite to  this  folly,  which  is  recommended 
in  the  gospel. 


I.  The  folly  of  measuring  ourselves  by 
ourselves  is  a  lesson  which  admits  of  inany 
illustrations.  The  habit  is  so  universal,  It 
is  so  strikingly  exemplified,  even  among  the 
most  acknowledged  outcasts  from  all  that 
is  worthy,  and  all  that  is  respectable  in 
general  estimation.  There  is  not  a  congre 
gated  mass  of  human  beings,  associated  in 
one  common  pursuit,  or  brought  togethei 
by  one  common  accident,  among  whom 
there  is  not  established  either  some  tacit  or 
proclaimed  morality,  to  the  observance  of 
which,  or  to  the  violation  of  which,  there  is 
awarded  admiration  or  disgrace,  by  the 
voice  of  the  society  that  is  formed  by  them. 
You  cannot  bring  two  or  more  human 
beings  to  act  in  concert  without  some  con- 
ventional principle  of  right  and  wrong 
arising  out  of  it,  which  either  must  be  prac- 
tically held  in  regard,  or  the  concert  is  dis- 
sipated. And  yet  it  may  be  altogether  a 
concert  of  iniquity.  It  may  be  a  concert 
of  villany  and  injustice  against  the  larger 
interests  of  human  society.  It  may  be  a 
banded  conspiracy  against  the  peace  and 
the  property  of  the  commonwealth;  and 
there  may  not  be  a  member  belonging  to  it 
who  does  not  carry  the  stamp  of  outlawry 
upon  his  person,  and  who  is  not  liable,  and 
rightly  liable,  to  the  penalties  of  an  out- 
raged government,  against  which  he  is  bid- 
ding, by  the  whole  habit  of  his  life,  a  daily 
and  systematic  defiance.  And  yet  even 
among  such  a  class  of  the  species  as  this, 
an  enlightened  observer  of  our  nature  will 
not  fail  to  perceive  a  standard  of  morality, 
both  recognized  and  acted  upon  by  all  its 
individuals,  and  in  reference  to  which  mo- 
rality, there  actually  stirs  in  many  a  bosom 
amongst  them  a  very  warm  and  enthusi- 
astic feeling  of  obligation, —  and  some  will 
you  find,  who,  by  their  devoted  adherence 
to  its  maxims,  earn  among  their  compa- 
nions all  the  distinctions  of  honour  and  of 
virtue, — and  others  who,  by  falling  away 
from  the  principles  of  the  compact,  become 
the  victims  of  a  deep  and  general  execra- 
tion. And  thus  may  the  very  same  thing 
be  perceived  with  them,  that  we  see  in  the 
more  general  society  of  mankind — a  scale 
of  character,  and,  corresponding  to  it,  a  scale 
of  respectability,  along  which  the  members 
of  the  most  wicked  and  worthless  associa- 
tion upon  earth  may  be  ranged  according 
to  the  gradation  of  such  virtues  as  are  there 
held  in  demand,  and  in  reverence ;  and  thus 
there  will  be  a  feeling  of  complacency,  and 
a  distribution  of  applause,  and  a  conscious 
superiority  of  moral  and  personal  attain- 
ment, and  all  this  grounded  on  the  habit  of 
measuring  themselves  by  themselves,  and 
comparing  themselves  amongst  themselves. 

The  first  case  of  such  an  exhibition  which 
we  cffer  to  your  notice,  comes  so  aptly  in 
for  the  purpose  of  illustration,  that  homely 
and  familiar  as  it  is,  we  cannot  resist  the 


VII.] 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


51 


introduction  of  it  We  allude  to  the  case 
of  smugglers.  These  men,  in  as  far  at  least 
as  it  respects  one  tie  of  allegiance,  may  be 
considered  as  completely  broken  loose  from 
the  government  of  their  country.  They 
have  formed  themselves  into  a  plot  against 
the  interests  of  the  public  revenue,  and  it 
may  be  generally  said  of  them,  that  they 
have  no  feeling  whatever  of  the  criminality 
of  their  undertaking.  On  this  point  there 
is  utterly  wanting  the  sympathy  of  any 
common  principle  between  the  administra- 
tors of  the  law  and  the  transgressors  of  the 
law, — and  yet  it  would  be  altogether  untrue 
to  nature  and  to  experience  to  say  of  the 
latter,  that  they  are  entire  strangers  to  the 
feeling  of  every  moral  obligation.  They 
have  a  very  strong  sense  of  obligation  to 
each  other.  There  are  virtues  amongst 
them  which  serve  to  signalize  certain  mem- 
bers, and  vices  amongst  them  which  doom 
to  infamy  certain  other  members  of  their 
own  association.  In  reference  to  the  duties 
which  they  owe  to  government,  they  may 
be  dead  to  every  impression  of  them.  But 
in  reference  to  those  duties,  on  the  punctual 
fulfilment  of  which  depends  the  success,  or 
even  the  continuance,  of  their  system  of 
operations,  they  may  be  most  keenly  and 
sensitively  alive.  They  may  speak  of  the 
informer  who  has  abandoned  them,  with 
all  the  intensity  of  moral  hatred  and  con- 
tempt; and  of  the  man,  again,  who  never 
once  swerved  from  his  fidelity;  of  the  man, 
who,  with  all  the  notable  dexterity  of  his 
evasions  from  the  vigilance  that  was  sent 
forth  to  track  and  to  discover  him,  was 
ever  known  to  be  open  as  day  amongst  the 
members  of  his  own  brotherhood ;  of  the 
man,  who,  with  the  unprincipledness  of  a 
most  skilful  and  systematic  falsehood,  in 
reference  to  the  agents  and  pursuers  of  the 
law,  was  the  most  trusty,  and  the  most  in- 
corruptible, in  reference  to  his  fellows  of 
the  trade;  of  the  man  who  stands  highest 
amongst  them  in  all  the  virtues  of  pledged 
and  sworn  companionship; — why,  of  such 
a  man  will  these  roving  mountaineers  speak 
in  terms  of  honest  and  heartfelt  veneration; 
and  nothing  more  is  necessary,  in  order  to 
throw  a  kind  of  chivalric  splendour  over 
him,  than  just  to  be  told,  along  with  his  in- 
flexible devotedness  to  the  cause,  of  his 
hardy  adventures,  and  his  hair-breadth  mi- 
racles of  escape,  and  his  inexhaustible  re- 
sources, and  of  the  rapidity  of  his  ever-suit- 
ing and  ever-shifting  contrivances,  and  of 
his  noble  and  uiiquelled  spirit  of  daring, 
and  of  the  art  and  activity  by  which  he  has 
eluded  his  opponents,  and  of  the  unfalter- 
ing courage  by  which  he  has  resisted  them. 
We  doubt  not,  that  even  in  the  history  of 
this  ignominious  traffic,  there  do  occur  such 
deeds  and  characters  of  unrecorded  hero- 
ism ;  and  still  the  men  who  carry  it  on, 
measuring  themselves  by  themselves,  may 


never  think  of  the  ignominy.  They  will 
enjoy  the  praise  they  have  one  of  another, 
and  care  not  for  the  distant  blame  that  is 
cast  upon  them  by  the  public  voice.  They 
wdl  carry  in  their  bosoms  the  swelling 
consciousness  of  worth,  and  be  regaled  by 
the  home  testimony  of  those  who  are  about 
them ;  and  all  this  at  the  very  time  when, 
to  the  general  community,  they  offer  a  spec- 
tacle of  odiousness ;  all  tins  at  the  very 
time,  when  the  power  and  the  justice  of  an 
incensed  government  are  moving  forth  upon 
them. 

But  another  case,  still  more  picturesque, 
and,  what  is  far  better,  still  more  subservi- 
ent to  the  establishment  of  the  lesson  of  our 
text,  may  be  taken  from  another  set  of  ad- 
venturers, hardier,  and  more  ferocious,  and 
more  unprincipled  than  the  former.  We 
allude  to  the  men  of  rapine ;  and  who,  rather 
than  that  their  schemes  of  rapine  should  be 
frustrated,  have  so  far  overcome  all  the 
scruples  and  all  the  sensibilities  of  nature, 
that  they  have  become  men  of  blood.  They 
live  as  commoners  upon  the  world  ;  and,  at 
large  from  those  restraints,  whether  of  feel- 
ing or  of  principle,  which  hold  in  security 
together  the  vast  majority  of  this  world's 
families,  they  are  looked  at  by  general  so- 
ciety with  a  revolting  sense  of  terror  and 
of  odiousness.  And  yet,  among  these  mon- 
sters of  the  cavern,  and  practised  as  they 
are  in  all  the  atrocities  of  the  highway,  will 
you  find  a  virtue  of  their  own,  and  a  high- 
toned  morality  of  their  own.  Living  as  they 
do,  in  a  state  of  emancipation  from  the  law 
universal,  still  there  is  among  them  a  law 
isoterical,  in  doing  homage  to  which,  the 
hearts  of  these  banditti  actually  glow  with 
the  movements  of  honourable  principle ; 
and  the  path  of  their  conduct  is  actually 
made  to  square  with  the  conformities  of 
right  and  honourable  practice.  Extraordi- 
nary as  you  may  think  it,  the  very  habit  of 
my  text  is  in  full  operation  among  these 
very  men,  who  have  wandered  so  far  from 
all  that  is  deemed  righteous  in  society;  and 
disowning,  as  they  do,  our  standard  of  prin- 
ciple altogether,  they  have  a  standard  among 
themselves,  on  which  they  can  adjust  a  scale 
of  moral  estimation,  and  apply  it  in  every 
exercise  of  judgment  on  the  character  of 
each  individual  who  belongs  to  them.  In 
reference  to  every  deviation  that  is  made 
by  them  from  the  general  standard  of  right, 
there  is  an  entire  obliteration  of  all  their 
sensibilities, — and  this  is  not  the  ground  on 
which  they  ever  think  either  of  reproach- 
ing themselves,  or  of  casting  any  imputation 
of  disgrace  on  their  companions.  But,  in 
reference  to  their  own  particular  standard 
of  right,  they  are  all  awake  to  the  enormity 
of  every  act  of  transgression  against  it, — 
and  thus  it  is,  that  measuring  themselves 
by  themselves,  and  comparing  themselves 
amongst  themselves,  there  is  just  with  them 


52 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


[SERM. 


as  varied  a  distribution  of  praise  and  of 
obloquy  as  is  to  be  met  with  on  the  face  of 
any  regular  and  well-ordered  common- 
wealth. And  who,  we  would  ask,  is  the 
man  among  all  these  prowling  outcasts  of 
nature,  on  whom  the  law  of  his  country 
would  inflict  the  most  unrelenting  ven- 
geance? He  who  is  most  signalized  by  the 
moralities  of  his  order, — he  who  has  gained 
by  fidelity,  and  courage,  and  disinterested 
honour,  the  chieftainship  of  confidence  and 
affection  amongst  them, — he,  the  foremost 
of  all  the  desperadoes,  on  whose  character 
perhaps  the  romance  of  generosity  and  truth 
is  strangely  blended  with  the  stern  barbari- 
ties of  his  calling,— and  who,  the  most  ad- 
mired among  the  members  of  his  own  bro- 
therhood,- is,  at  the  same  time,  the  surest  to 
bring  down  upon  his  person  all  the  rigours 
and  all  the  severities  of  the  judgment-seat. 
Let  us  now  follow  with  the  eye  of  our 
observation,  a  number  of  these  transgres- 
sors into  another  scene.  Let  us  go  into  the 
place  of  their  confinement ;  and,  in  this  re- 
ceptacle of  many  criminals,  with  all  their 
varied  hues  of  guilt  and  of  depravity,  we 
shall  perceive  the  habit  of  my  text  in  full 
and  striking  exemplification.  The  mur- 
derer stands  lower  in  the  scale  of  character 
than  the  thief.  The  first  is  worse  than  the 
second — and  you  have  only  to  reverse  the 
terms  of  the  comparison,  that  you  may  be 
enabled  to  see  how  the  second  is  better  than 
the  first.  Thus,  even  in  this  repository  of 
human  worthlessness,  we  meet  with  grada- 
tions of  character ;  with  the  worse  and  the 
better  and  the  best ;  with  an  ascending  and 
a  descending  scale,  which  runs  in  conti- 
nuity, from  the  one  who  stands  upon  its 
pinnacle,  to  the  one  who  is  the  deepest  and 
most  determined  in  wickedness  amongst 
them.  It  is  utter  ignorance  of  our  nature 
to  conceive  that  this  moral  gradation  is  not 
fully  and  frequently  in  the  minds  of  the 
criminals  themselves, — that  there  is  not, 
even  here,  the  habit  of  each  measuring 
himself  with  his  fellow-prisoners  around 
him,  and  of  some  soothed  by  the  conscious- 
ness of  a  more  untainted  character,  and 
rejoicing  over  it  with  a  feeling  of  secret 
elevation.  They,  in  truth,  know  themselves 
to  be  the  best  of  their  kind, — and  this  know- 
ledge brings  a  complacency  along  with  it, — 
and,  even  in  this  mass  of  profligacy,  there 
swells  and  kindles  the  pride  of  superior  at- 
tainments. But  there  is  at  least  one  delu- 
sion from  which  one  and  all  of  them  stand 
exempted.  The  very  best  of  them,  how- 
ever much  he  may  be  regaled  by  the  in- 
ward sense  of  his  advantage  over  others, 
knows,  that  in  reference  to  the  law,  he  is 
not  on  a  footing  of  merit,  but  on  a  footing 
of  criminality, — knows,  that  though  he  will 
be  the  most  gently  dealt  with,  and  that  on 
him  the  lightest  penalty  will  fall,  yet  still 
he  stands  to  his  judge  and  to  his  country, 


in  the  relation  of  a  condemned  malefactor — 
feels,  how  preposterous  it  were,  if,  on  the 
plea  of  being  the  most  innocent  of  the 
whole  assemblage,  he  was  to  claim,  not 
merely  exemption  from  punishment,  but 
the  reward  of  some  high  and  honourable 
distinction  at  the  hands  of  the  magistrate. 
He  is  fully  aware  of  the  gap  that  lies  be- 
tween him  and  the  administrators  of  jus- 
tice,— is  sensible,  that  though  he  deserves 
to  be  beaten  with  fewer  stripes  than  others, 
yet  still,  that,  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  he  de- 
serves to  be  beaten  ;  and  that  he  stands  at 
as  hopeless  a  distance,  as  the  most  depraved 
of  his  fellows,  from  a  sentence  of  complete 
justification. 

Let  us,  last  of  all,  go  along  with  these 
malefactors  to  the  scene  of  their  banishment. 
Let  us  view  them  as  the  members  of  a  sepa- 
rated community ;  and  we  shall  widely 
mistake  it,  if  we  think,  that  in  this  settle- 
ment of  New  South  Wales,  there  is  not  the 
same  shading  of  moral  variety,  there  is  not 
the  same  gradation  of  character,  there  is 
not  the  same  scale  of  reputation,  there  is 
not  the  same  distribution  of  respect,  there  is 
not  the  same  pride  of  loftier  principle,  and 
debasement  of  more  shameful  and  abandon- 
ed profligacy,  there  is  not  the  same  triumph 
of  conscious  superiority  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  same  crouching  sense  of  unworthi- 
ness  on  the  other,  which  you  find  in  the 
more  decent,  and  virtuous,  and  orderly  so- 
ciety of  Europe. 

Within  the  limits  of  this  colony  there  ex- 
ists a  tribunal  of  public  opinion,  from  which 
praise  and  popularity,  and  reproach,  are 
awarded  in  various  proportions  among  all 
the  inhabitants.  And  without  the  limits  of 
this  colony  there  exists  another  tribunal  of 
public  opinion,  by  the  voice  of  which  an 
unexpected  stigma  of  exclusion  and  disgrace 
is  cast  upon  every  one  of  them.  Insomuch, 
that  the  same  individual  may  by  a  nearer 
judgment,  be  extolled  as  the  best  and  the 
most  distinguished  of  all  who  are  around 
him, — and  by  a  more  distant  judgment,  he 
may  have  all  the  ignominy  of  an  outcast 
laid  upon  his  person  and  his  character  He 
may,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  be  regaled 
by  the  applause  of  one  society,  and  held  in 
rightful  execration  by  another  society.  In 
the  former,  he  may  have  the  deference  of  a 
positive  regard  rendered  to  him  for  his 
virtues, — while,  from  the  latter,  he  is  justly 
exiled  by  the  hateful  contamination  of  his 
vices.  And  in  him  do  we  behold  the  in- 
structive picture  of  a  man,  who,  at  the  bar 
of  his  own  neighbourhood,  stands  the 
highest  in  moral  estimation, — while,  at  a 
higher  bar,  he  has  had  a  mark  of  foulest 
ignominy  stamped  upon  him. 

We  want  not  to  shock  the  pride  or  the 
delicacy  of  your  feelings.  But  on  a  ques- 
tion so  high  as  that  of  your  eternity,  we 
want  to  extricate  you  from  the  power  of 


VII.] 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


53 


every  vain  and  bewildering  delusion.  We 
want  to  urge  upon  you  the  lesson  of 
Scripture,  that  this  world  differs  from  a 
prison-house,  only  in  its  being  a  more  spa- 
cious receptacle  of  sinners, — and  that  there 
is  not  a  wider  distance,  in  point  of  habit 
and  of  judgment,  between  a  society  of  con- 
victs, and  the  general  community  of  man- 
kind, than  there  is  between  the  whole  com- 
munity of  our  species,  and  the  society  of 
that  paradise,  from  which,  under  the  apos- 
tacy  of  our  fallen  nature,  we  have  been 
doomed  to  live  in  dreary  alienation.  We 
refuse  not  to  the  men  of  our  world  the  pos- 
session of  many  high  and  honourable  vir- 
tues; but  let  us  not  forget,  that  amongst  trie 
marauders  of  the  highway,  we  hear,  too,  of 
indexible  faith,  and  devoted  friendship,  and 
splendid  generosity.  We  deny  not,  that 
there  exists  among  our  species,  as  much 
truth  and  as  much  honesty,  as  serve  to  keep 
society  together :  but  a  measure  of  the  very 
same  principle  is  necessary,  in  order  to 
perpetuate  and  to  accomplish  the  end  of  the 
most  unrighteous  combinations.  We  deny 
not,  thtit  there  flourishes  on  the  face  of  our 
earth  a  moral  diversity  of  hue  and  of 
character,  and  that  there  are  the  better  and 
the  best  who  have  signalized  themselves 
above  the  level  of  its  general  population; 
but  so  it  is  in  the  malefactor's  dungeon  ; 
and  as  there,  so  here,  may  a  positive  sen- 
tence of  condemnation  be  the  lot  of  the 
most  exalted  individual.  We  deny  not, 
there  are  many  in  every  neighbourhood,  to 
whose  character,  and  whose  worth,  the 
cordial  tribute  of  admiration  is  awarded ;  but 
the  very  same  thing  may  be  witnessed 
amongst  the  outcasts  of  every  civilized  ter- 
ritory,— and  what  they  are,  in  reference  to 
the  country  from  which  they  have  been 
exiled,  we  may  be,  in  reference  to  the  whole 
of  God's  unfaUen  creation.  In  the  sight  of 
men  we  may  be  highly  esteemed, — and  we 
may  be  an  abomination  in  the  sight  of  an- 
gels. We  may  receive  homage  from  our 
immediate  neighbours  for  all  the  virtues  of 
our  relationship  with  them, — while  our  re- 
lationship with  God  may  be  utterly  dis- 
solved, and  its  appropriate  virtues  may  nei- 
ther be  recognized  nor  acted  on.  There 
may  emanate  from  our  persons  a  certain 
beauteousness  of  moral  colouring  on  those 
who  are  around  us, — but  when  seen  through 
the  universal  morality  of  God's  extended 
and  all-pervading  government,  we  may  look 
as  hateful  as  tin;  outcasts  of  felony, — and 
living,  as  we  do,  in  a  rebellious  province, 
that  has  broken  loose  from  the  community 
of  God's  loyal  and  obedient  worshippers, 
we  may,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  be  sur- 
rounded by  the  cordialities  of  an  approving 
fellowship,  and  be  frowned  upon  by  the  su- 
preme judicatory  of  the  universe.  At  one 
and  the  same  time,  we  may  be  regaled  by 
the  incense  of  this  world's  praise,  and  be  the  I 


objects  of  Heaven's  most  righteous  execra- 
tion. 

But  is  this  the  real  place,  it  may  be  asked, 
that  our  world  occupies  in  the  moral  uni- 
verse of  God  1  The  answer  to  this  question 
may  be  obtained  either  out  of  the  historical 
informations  of  Scripture,  or  out  of  a  sur- 
vey that  may  be  made  of  the  actual  charac- 
ter of  man,  and  a  comparison  that  may  be 
instituted  between  this  character  and  the 
divine  law.  We  can  conceive  nothing  more 
uniform  and  more  decisive  than  the  testi- 
mony of  the  Bible,  when  it  tells  us  that 
however  fair  some  may  be  in  the  eyes  of 
men,  yet  that  all  are  guilty  before  God; 
that  in  his  eyes  none  are  righteous,  no  not 
one :  that  he,  who  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to 
behold  iniquity,  finds  out  iniquity  in  every 
one  of  us ;  that  there  is  none  who  under- 
standeth,  and  none  who  seeketh  after  God  ; 
that  however  much  we  may  compare  our- 
selves amongst  ourselves,  and  found  a  com- 
placency upon  the  exercise,  yet  that  we 
have  altogether  gone  out  of  the  way  ;  that 
however  distinctly  we  may  retain,  even  in 
the  midst  of  this  great  moral  rebellion,  our 
relative  superiorities  over  each  other,  there 
is  a  wide  and  a  general  departure  of  the 
species  from  God  ;  that  one  and  all  of  us 
have  deeply  revolted  against  him  :  that  the 
taint  of  a  most  inveterate  spiritual  disease 
has  overspread  all  the  individuals  of  all  the 
families  upon  earth  ;  insomuch,  that  the 
heart  of  man  is  deceitful  above  all  things 
and  desperately  wicked,  and  the  imagina- 
tions of  his  thoughts  aj e  only  evil,  and  that 
continually. 

The  fall  of  Adam  is  represented,  in  the 
Bible,  as  that  terribly  decisive  event,  on 
which  took  place  this  deep  and  fatal  un- 
hingement of  the  moral  constitution  of  our 
species.  From  this  period  the  malady  has 
descended,  and  the  whole  history  of  our 
world  gives  evidence  to  its  state  of  banish- 
ment from  the  joys  and  the  communica- 
tions of  paradise.  Before  the  entrance  of 
sin  did  God  and  man  walk  in  sweet  com- 
panionship together,  and  saw  each  other 
face  to  face  in  the  security  of  a  garden.  A 
little  further  down  in  the" history,  we  meet 
with  another  of  God's  recorded  manifesta- 
tions. We  read  of  his  descent  in  thunder 
upon  mount  Sinai.  O  what  a  change  from 
the  free  and  fearless  intercourse  of  Eden ! 
God,  though  surrounded  by  a  people  whom 
he  had  himself  selected,  here  sits,  if  we 
may  use  the  expression,  on  a  throne  of 
awful  and  distant  ceremony ;  and  the  lift- 
ing of  his  mighty  voice  scattered  dismay 
among  the  thousands  of  Israel.  When  he 
looked  now  on  the  children  of  men,  he 
looked  on  them  with  an  altered  counte- 
nance. The  days  were,  when  they  talked 
together  in  the  lovely  scenes  of  paradise  as 
one  talketh  with  a  friend.  But,  on  the  top 
of  Sinai,  he  wraps  himself  in  storms,  and 


54 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HITMAN   NATURE. 


[aERM. 


orders  to  set  bounds  about  the  mount,  lest 
the  people  should  draw  near,  and  God 
should  break  forth  upon  them. 

But  we  have  an  evidence  to  our  state  of 
banishment  from  God,  which  is  nearer 
home.  We  have  it  in  our  own  hearts.  The 
habitual  attitude  of  the  inner  man  is  not  an 
attitude  of  subordination  to  God.  The  feel- 
ing of  allegiance  to  him  is  practically  and 
almost  constantly  away  from  us.  All  that 
can  give  value  to  our  obedience,  in  the  sight 
of  an  enlightened  Spirit  who  looks  to  mo- 
tive, and  sentiment,  and  principle,  has  con- 
stitutionally no  place,  and  no  residence  in 
our  characters.  We  are  engrossed  by  other 
anxieties  than  anxiety  to  do  the  will,  and 
to  promote  the  honour,  of  him  who  formed 
us.  We  are  animated  by  other  affections 
altogether,  than  love  to  him,  whose  right 
hand  preserves  us  continually.  That  Being 
by  whom  we  are  so  fearfully  and  wonder- 
fully made ;  whose  upholding  presence  it 
is  that  keeps  us  in  life,  and  in  movement, 
and  in  the  exercise  of  all  our  faculties ; 
who  has  placed  us  on  the  theatre  of  all  our 
enjoyments,  and  claims  over  his  own  crea- 
tures the  ascendency  of  a  most  rightful  au- 
thority ; — that  surely  is  the  Being  with 
whom  we  have  to  do.  And  yet,  when  we 
take  account  of  our  thoughts  and  of  our 
doings,  how  little  of  God  is  there  ?  In  the 
random  play  and  exhibition  of  such  feelings 
as  instinctively  belong  to  us,  we  may  gather 
around  us  the  admiration  of  our  fellows, — 
and  so  it  is  in  a  colony  of  exiled  criminals. 
But  as  much  wanting  there,  as  is  the  ho- 
mage of  loyalty  to  the  government  of  their 
native  land ;  so  much  wanting  here,  is  the 
homage  of  any  deference  or  inward  regard, 
to  the  government  of  Heaven.  And  yet  this 
is  the  very  principle  of  all  that  obedience 
which  Heaven  can  look  upon.  If  it  be  true 
that  obedience  is  rewardable  by  God,  but 
that  which  has  respect  unto  God,  then  this 
must  be  the  essential  point  on  which  hinges 
the  difference  between  a  rebel,  and  a  loyal 
subject  to  the  supreme  Lawgiver.  The  re- 
quirement we  live  under  is  to  do  all  things 
to  his  glory ;  and  this  is  the  measure  of 
principle  and  of  performance  that  will  be  set 
over  you, — and  tell  us,  ye  men  of  civil  and 
relative  propriety,  who.  by  exemplifying  in 
the  eye  of  your  fellows  such  virtue,  as  may 
be  exemplified  by  the  outcasts  of  banish- 
ment, have  shed  around  your  persons  the 
tiny  lustre  of  this  world's  moralities;  tell 
us  how  you  will  be  able  to  stand  such  a 
severe  and  righteous  application  ?  The 
measure  by  which  we  compare  ourselves 
with  ourselves,  is  not  the  measure  of  the 
sanctuary.  When  the  judge  comes  to  take 
account  of  us,  he  will  come  fraught  with 
the  maxims  of  a  celestial  jurisprudence,  and 
his  question  will  be,  not,  what  have  you 
done  at  the  shrine  of  popularity, — not,  what 
have    you    done    to    sustain  a    character 


amongst  men, — not  what  have  you  done  at 
the  mere  impulse  of  sensibilities  however 
amiable,  or  of  native  principles  however  up- 
right, and  elevated,  and  manly, — but  what 
have  you  done  unto  me  ?  how  much  of 
God,  and  of  God's  will,  was  there  in  the 
principle  of  your  doings?  This  is  the  hea- 
venly measure,  and  it  will  set  aside  all  your 
earthly  measures  and  comparisons.  It  will 
sweep  away  all  these  refuges  of  lies.  The 
man  whose  accomplishments  of  character, 
however  lively,  were  all  social,  and  worldly, 
and  relative,  will  hang  his  head  in  confu- 
sion when  the  utter  wickedness  of  his  pre- 
tensions is  thus  laid  open, — when  the  God 
who  gave  him  every  breath,  endowed  him 
with  every  faculty,  enquires  after  his  share 
of  reverence  and  acknowledgment, — when 
he  tells  him  from  the  judgment-seat,  I  was 
the  Being  with  whom  you  had  to  do,  and 
yet  in  the  vast  multiplicity  of  your  doings, 
I  was  seldom  or  never  thought  of, — when 
he  convicts  him  of  habitual  forgctfulness 
of  God,  and  setting  aside  all  the  paltry 
measurements  which  men  apply  in  their 
estimates  of  one  another,  he  brings  the  high 
standard  of  Heaven's  law,  and  Heaven's  al- 
legiance to  bear  upon  them. 

It  must  be  quite  palpable  to  any  man  who 
has  seen  much  of  life,  and  still  more  if  he 
has  travelled  extensively,  and  witnessed  the 
varied  complexions  of  morality  that  obtain 
in  distant  societies, — it  must  be  quite  ob- 
vious to  such  a  man,  how  readily  the  moral 
feeling,  in  each  of  them,  accommodates  itself 
to  the  general  state  of  practice  and  observa- 
tion,— that  the  practices  of  one  country,  for 
which  there  is  a  most  complacent  tolera- 
tion, would  be  shuddered  at  as  so  many 
atrocities  in  another  country, — that  in  every 
given  neighbourhood,  the  sense  of  right 
and  of  wrong,  becomes  just  as  fine  or  as 
obtuse  as  to  square  with  its  average  purity, 
and  its  average  humanity,  and  its  average 
uprightness, — that  what  would  revolt  the 
public  feeling  of  a  retired  parish  in  Scot- 
land as  gross  licentiousness  or  outrageous 
cruelty,  might  attach  no  disgrace  whatever 
to  a  residenter  in  some  colonial  settlement, 
— that,  nevertheless,  in  the  more  corrupt 
and  degraded  of  the  two  communites,  there 
is  a  scale  of  differences,  a  range  of  charac- 
ter, along  which  are  placed  the  compara- 
tive stations  of  the  disreputable,  and  the 
passible,  and  the  respectable,  and  the  super- 
excellent;  and  yet  it  is  a  very  possible 
thing,  that  if  a  man  in  the  last  of  these 
stations  were  to  import  all  his  habits  and 
all  his  profligacies  into  his  native  land, 
superexcellent  as  he  may  be  abroad,  at 
home  he  would  be  banished  from  the  gene- 
ral association  of  virtuous  and  well-ordered 
families.  Now,  all  we  ask  of  you  is,  to 
transfer  this  consideration  to  the  matter 
before  us, — to  think  how  possible  a  thing 
it  is,  that  the  moral  principle  of  the  world 


VIII.] 

at  large,  may  have  sunk  to  a  peaceable 
and  approving  acquiescence,  in  the  existing 
practice  of  the  world  at  large, — that  the 
security  which  is  inspired  by  the  habit  of 
measuring  ourselves  by  ourselves,  and  com- 
paring ourselves  amongst  ourselves,  may 
therefore  be  a  delusion  altogether,— that  the 
very  best  member  of  society  upon  earth, 
may  be  utterly  unfit  for  the  society  of  hea- 
ven,—that  the  morality  which  is  current 
here,  may  depend  upon  totally  another  set 
of  principles  from  the  morality  which  is 
held  to  be  indispensable  there;— and  when 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


55 


we  gather  these  principles  from  the  book  of 
God's  revelation, — when  we  arc  told  that  the 
law  of  the  two  great  commandments  is,  to 
love  the  Lord  our  God  with  all  our  strength, 
and  heart,  and  mind,  and  to  bear  the  same 
love,  to  our  neighbour  that  we  do  to  our- 
selves,— the  argument  advances  from  a  con- 
jecture to  a  certainty,  that  every  inhabitant 
of  earth  when  brought  to  the  bar  of  Heaven's 
judicature,  is  altogether  wanting;  and  that 
unless  some  great  moral  renovation  take  effect 
upon  him,  he  can  never  be  admitted  within 
the  limits  of  the  empire  of  righteousness. 


SERMON  VIIL 

Christ  the  Wisdom  of  God. 

•  Christ  the  Wisdom  of  God." — 1  Corinthians  i.  24. 


We  cannot  but  remark  of  the  Bible,  how 
uniformly  and  how  decisively  it  announces 
itself  in  all  its  descriptions  of  the  state  and 
character  of  man, — how,  without  offering 
to  palliate  the  matter,  it  brings  before  us  the 
totality  of  our  alienation,  how  it  represents 
us  to  be  altogether  broken  off  from  our  alle- 
giance to  God, — and  how  it  fears  not,  in  the 
face  of  those  undoubted  diversities  of  cha- 
racter which  exist  in  the  world,  to  assert 
of  the  whole  world,  that  it  is  guilty  before 
him.  And  if  we  would  only  seize  on  what 
may  be  called  the  elementary  principle  of 
guilt, — if  we  would  only  take  it  along  with 
us,  that  guilt,  in  reference  to  God,  must 
consist  in  the  defection  of  our  regard  and 
our  reverence  from  him, — if  we  would  only 
open  our  eyes  to  the  undoubted  fact,  that 
there  may  be  such  an  utter  defection,  and 
yet  there  may  be  many  an  amiable,  and 
many  a  graceful  exhibition,  both  of  feeling 
and  Iif  conduct,  in  reference  to  those  who 
are  around  us, — then  should  we  recognize, 
in  the  statements  of  the  Bible,  a  vigorous, 
discerning,  and  intelligent  view  of  human 
nature, — an  unfaltering  announcement  of 
what  that  nature  essentially  is,  under  all  the 
plausibilities  which  serve  to  disguise  it, — 
and  such  an  insight,  in  fact,  into  the  secre- 
cies of  our  inner  man,  as  if  carried  home 
by  that  Spirit,  whose  office  it  is  to  apply  the 
word  with  power  into  the  conscience,  is 
enough,  of  itself,  to  stamp  upon  this  book, 
the  evidence  of  the  Divinity  which  in- 
spired it. 

But  it  is  easier  far  to  put  an  end  to  the 
resistance  of  the  understanding,  than  to 
alarm  the  fears,  or  to  make  the  heart  soft 
and  tender,  under  a  sense  of  its  guiltiness,  or 
to  prompt  the  inquiry, — if  all  those  secu- 
rities, within  the  entrenchment  of  which  I 
■rant  to  take  my  quiet  and  complacent  re- 


pose, are  thus  driven  in,  where  in  the  whole 
compass  of  nature  or  revelation  can  any 
effectual  security  be  found?  It  may  be 
easy  to  find  our  way  amongst  all  the  enm- 
plexional  varieties  of  our  nature,  to  its  ra- 
dical and  pervading  ungodliness;  and  thus 
to  carry  the  acquiescence  of  the  judgment 
in  some  extended  demonstration  about  the 
utter  sinfulness  of  the  species.  But  it  is  not 
so  easy  to  point  this  demonstration  towards 
the  bosom  of  any  individual,— to  gather  it 
up,  as  it  were,  from  its  state  of  diffusion 
over  the  whole  field  of  humanity,  and  send 
it  with  all  its  energies  concentered  to  a 
single  heart,  in  the  form  of  a  sharp,  and 
humbling,  and  terrifying  conviction,— to 
make  it  enter  the  conscience  of  some  one 
listener,  like  an  arrow  sticking  fast,— or, 
when  the  appalling  picture  of  a  whole  world 
lying  in  wickedness,  is  thus  presented  to  the 
understanding  of  a  general  audience,  to  make 
each  of  that  audience  mourn  apart  over  his 
own  wickedness  ;  just  as  when,  on  the  day 
of  judgment,  though  all  that  is  visible  be 
shaking,  and  dissolving,  and  giving  way, 
each  despairing  eye-witness  shall  mourn 
apart  over  the  recollection  of  his  own  guilt, 
over  the  prospect  of  his  own  rueful  and 
undone  eternity.  And  yet,  if  this  be  not 
done,  nothing  is  done.  The  lesson  of  the 
text  has  come  to  you  in  word  only  and  not 
in  power.  To  look  to  the  truth  in  its  gene- 
rality, is  one  thing;  to  look  to  your  own 
separate  concern  in  it,  is  another.  What  we 
want  is  that  each  of  you  shall  turn  his  eye 
homewards  ;  that  each  shall  purify  his  own 
heart  from  the  influence  of  a  delusion  which 
we  pronounce  to  be  ruinous;  that  each 
shall  beware  of  leaning  a  satisfaction,  or  a 
triumph,  on  the  comparison  of  himself  with 
corrupt  and  exiled  men,  whom  sin  has  de- 
graded into  outcasts  from  the  presence  of 


56 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


[SERM. 


God,  and  the  joys  of  paradise ;  that  each  of 
you  shall  look  to  the  measure  of  God's  law, 
so  that  when  the  commandment  comes  upon 
you,  in  the  sense  of  its  exceeding  broad- 
ness, a  sense  of  your  sin,  and  of  your  death 
in  sin,  may  come  along  with  it.  "  Without 
the  commandment  I  was  alive,"  says  the 
Apostle ;  "  but  when  the  commandment 
came,  sin  revived,  and  I  died."  Be  assured, 
that  if  the  utterance  of  such  truth  in  your 
hearing,  impress  no  personal  earnestness, 
and  lead  to  no  personal  measures,  and  be 
followed  up  by  no  personal  movements, 
then  to  you  it  is  as  a  sounding  brass  and  as 
a  tinkling  cymbal.  The  preacher  has  been 
beating  the  air.  That  great  Agent,  whose 
revealed  office  it  is  to  convince  of  sin,  has 
refused  to  go  along  with  him.  Another  in- 
fluence altogether,  than  that  which  is  salu- 
tary and  saving,  has  been  sent  into  your 
bosom ;  and  the  glow  of  the  truth  universal 
has  deafened  or  intercepted  the  application  of 
the  truth  personal,  and  of  the  truth  particular. 

This  leads  us  to  the  second  thing  proposed 
in  our  last  discourse,  under  wh  ich  we  shall  at- 
tempt to  explain  the  wisdom  opposite  to  that 
folly  of  measuring  ourselves  by  ourselves, 
and  comparing  ourselves  among  ourselves, 
which  we  have  already  attempted  to  expose. 

The  first  step  is  to  give  up  all  satisfac- 
tion with  yourselves,  on  the  bare  ground, 
that  your  conduct  comes  up  to  the  measure 
of  human  character,  and  human  reputation 
around  you.  This  consideration  may  be 
of  importance  to  your  place  in  society ;  but, 
as  to  your  place  in  the  favour  of  God,  it  is 
utterly  insignificant.  The  moral  differences 
which  obtain  in  a  community  of  exiles,  are 
all  quite  consistent  with  the  entire  oblitera- 
tion amongst  them,  of  the  allegiance  that 
is  due  to  the  government  of  their  native 
land.  And  the  moral  differences  which 
obtain  in  the  world,  may,  in  every  way, 
be  as  consistent  with  the  fact,  that  one  and 
all  of  us,  in  our  state  of  nature,  are  alienated 
from  God  by  wicked  works.  And,  in  like 
manner,  as  convicts  may  be  all  alive  to  a 
sense  of  their  reciprocal  obligations,  while 
dead,  in  feeling  and  in  principle,  to  the  su- 
preme obligation  under  which  tney  lie  to 
the  sovereign, — so  may  we,  in  reference  to 
our  fellow-men,  have  a  sense  of  rectitude, 
and  honour,  and  compassion,  while,  in  re- 
ference to  God,  we  may  labour  under  the 
entire  extinction  of  every  moral  sensibili- 
ty,— so  that  the  virtues  which  signalize  us, 
may,  in  the  language  of  some  of  our  old 
divines,  be  neither  more  nor  less  than 
splendid  sins.  With  the  possession  of  these 
virtues,  we  may  not  merely  be  incurring 
svery  day  the  guilt  of  trespassing  and  sin- 
ning against  our  Maker  in  heaven ;  but  de- 
void as  we  are  of  all  apprehension  of  the 
enormity  of  this,  we  may  strikingly  realize 
the  assertion  of  the  Bible,  that  we  are  dead 
iu  trespasses  and  sins.    And  we  pass  our 


time  in  all  the  tranquillity  of  death.  We 
say  peace,  when  there  is  no  peace.  Though 
in  a  state  of  disruption  from  God,  we  live 
as  securely  and  as  inconsiderately  as  if 
there  were  no  question  and  no  controversy 
betwixt  us.  About  this  whole  matter,  there 
is  within  us  a  spirit  of  heaviness  and  of 
deep  slumber.  We  lie  fast  asleep  on  the 
brink  of  an  unprovided  eternity, — and,  if 
possible  to  awaken  you,  let  us  urge  you  to 
compare,  not  your  own  conduct  with  that 
of  acquaintances  and  neighbours,  but  to 
compare  your  own  finding  of  the  ungodli- 
ness that  is  in  your  heart  with  the  doctrine 
of  God's  word  about  it, — to  bring  down  the 
loftiness  of  your  spirit  to  its  humbling  de- 
clarations— to  receive  it  as  a  faithful  saying, 
that  man  is  lost  by  nature,  and  that  unless 
there  be  some  mighty  transition,  in  his  his- 
tory, from  a  state  of  nature  to  a  state  of 
salvation,  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him. 

The  next  inquiry  comes  to  be,  What  is 
this  transition  ?  Tell  me  the  step  I  should 
take,  and  I  will  take  it.  It  is  not  enough, 
then,  that  you  exalt  upon  your  own  person 
the  degree  of  those  virtues,  by  which  you 
have  obtained  a  credit  and  a  distinction 
among  men.  It  is  not  enough,  that  you 
throw  a  brighter  and  a  lovelier  hue  over 
your  social  accomplishments.  It  is  not 
enough,  that  you  multiply  the  offerings  of 
your  charity,  or  observe  a  more  rigid  com- 
pliance, than  heretofore,  with  all  the  requi- 
sitions of  justice.  All  this  you  may  do, 
and  yet  the  great  point,  on  which  your 
controversy  with  God  essentially  hinges, 
may  not  be  so  much  as  entered  upon.  All 
this  you  may  do,  and  yet  obtain  no  nearer- 
approximation  to  Him  who  sitteth  on  the 
throne,  than  the  outlaws  of  an  offended 
government  for  their  fidelities  to  each  other. 

To  the  eye  of  man  you  may  be  fairer  than 
before.and  in  civil  estimation  be  greatly  more 
righteous  than  before, — and  yet,  with  the  un- 
quelled  spirit  of  impiety  within  you,  and  as 
habitual  an  indifference  as  ever  to  all  the  sub- 
ordinating claims  of  the  divine  will  over  your 
heart  and  your  conduct,  you  may  stand  at 
as  wide  a  distance  from  God  as  before.  And 
besides,  how  are  we  to  dispose  of  the  whole 
guilt  of  your  past  iniquities7  Whether,  is 
it  the  malefactor  or  the  Lawgiver  who  is  to 
arbitrate  this  question?  God  may  remit 
our  sins,  but  it  is  for  him  to  proclaim  this. 
God  may  pass  them  over;  but  it  is  for  him 
to  issue  the  deed  of  amnesty.  God  may 
have  found  out  a  way  whereby,  in  consis- 
tency with  his  own  character,  and  with  the 
stability  of  his  august  government,  he  may 
take  sinners  into  reconciliation  ;  but  it  is  for 
him  both  to  devise  and  to  publish  this  way  ; 
— and  we  must  just  do  what  convicts  do, 
when  they  obtain  a  mitigation  or  a  cancel- 
ment  of  the  legal  sentence  under  which 
they  lie, — we  must  passively  accept  of  it, 
on  the  terms  of  the  deed, — we  must  look 


VIII.J 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


57 


to  the  warrant  as  issued  by  the  sovereign, 
and  take  the  boon  or  fulfil  the  conditions, 
just  as  it  is  there  presented  to  us.  The  ques- 
tion is  between  us  and  God  ;  and  in  the  ad- 
justment of  this  question,  we  must  look, 
singly  to  the  expression  of  his  will,  and  feel 
that  it  is  with  him,  and  with  his  authority, 
that  we  have  exclusively  to  do.  In  one 
word,  we  must  wait  his  own  revelation,  and 
learn  from  his  own  mouth  how  it  is  that  he 
would  have  us  to  come  nigh  unto  him. 

Let  us  go  then  to  the  record.    "No  man 
cometh  unto  the  Father   but  through  the 
Son."     "  There  is  no  other  name  given  un- 
der heaven,  but  the  name  of  Jesus,  whereby 
we  can  be  saved."    "  Without  the  shedding 
of  blood  there  ;s  no  remission  of  sin  ;"  and 
"God  hath  set  forth  Christ  to  be  a  propitia- 
tion through  faith  in  his  blood."     "He  was 
once  offered  to  bear  the  sins  of  many," — and 
"  became  sin  for  us,  though  he  knew  no  sin, 
that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of 
God  in  him."   "  God  is  in  Christ  reconciling 
the  world  unto  himself,  and  not  imputing 
unto  them  their  trespasses."    "  Justified  by 
faith,   we   have  peace   with   God   through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  ;" — "  and  we  become 
the  children  of  God,  through  the  faith  that  is 
in  Christ  Jesus."  We  are  "reconciled  to  God 
by  the  death  of  his  Son," — "  and   by  his 
obedience  are  many  made  righteous," — and 
"where  sin  abounded,  grace  did  much  more 
abound."     These  verses  sound    foolishness 
to  many  ;  but  the  cross  of  Christ  is  foolish- 
ness  to  those  that  perish.     They  appear  to 
them  invested  with  all  the  mysteriousness 
of  a  dark  and  hidden  saying  ;  but  if  this 
Gospel  be  hid,  it  is  hid  to  them  which  are 
lost.    They  have  eyes  that  they  cannot  see 
the  wondrous  things  contained  in  this  book 
of  God's  communication;  but  they  have 
minds  which  believe  not,  because  they  are 
blinded  by  the  god  of  this  world,  lest  the 
light  id"  tiie  glorious  Gospel  of  Christ,  who 
is  tic  image  of  God,  should  shine  into  them. 
An  I  lure  we  cannot  but  insist  on  the  utter 
hopelessness  of  their  circumstances,   who 
hear  these  overtures  of  reconciliation,  but 
will  not  listen  tolhem.  Theirsisjust  the  case 
of  rebels  turning  their  back  on  a  deed  of 
grace  and  of  amnesty.    We  are  quite  confi- 
dent in  stating  it  to  the  stubborn  experience 
of  human  nature,  that  all  who  reject  Christ, 
as  he  is  offered  in  the  Gospel,  persist  in  that 
radical   ungodliness  of  character  on  which 
the  condemnation  of  our  world  mainly  and 
ess  ntially  rests.     And  as  they  thus  refuse 
to  build  their  security  on  the  foundation  of 
his  merits, — what,   we  would   ask,  is  the 
other   foundation   on  which  they  build  it? 
If  ever  they  think  seriously  of  the  matter, 
or  feel  any  concern  about  a  foundation  on 
which  they  might  rest  their  confidence  be- 
fore God,   they  conceive  it  to  lie  in  such 
feelings,   and    such    Humanities,    and   such 
honesties,   as  make    them  even   with  the 


world,  or  as  elevate  them  to  a  certain  de- 
gree above  the  level  of  the  world's  popula 
tion.    These  are  the  materials  of  the  found 
ation  on  which  they  build.     It  is  upon  the 
possession  of  virtues  which  in  truth  have 
not  God  for  their  object,  that  they  propose 
to  support  in  the  presence  of  God  the  atti- 
tude of  fearlessness.    It  is  upon  the  testi- 
mony of  fellow  rebels  that  they  brave  the 
judgment  of  the  Being  who  has  pronounced 
of  them  all,  that  they  have  deeply  revolted 
against  him.    And  all  this  in  the  face  of 
God's  high  prerogative,  to  make  and  to  pub- 
lish his  own  overtures.  All  this  in  contempt 
of  that  Mediator  whom  he  has  appointed. 
All  this  in  resistance  to  the  authentic  deed 
of  grace  and  of  forgiveness,  which  has  been 
sent  to  our  world,  and  from  which  we  gather 
the  full  assurance  of  God's  willingness  to  be 
reconciled ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  are  ex- 
pressly bound  down  to  that  particular  way 
in  which  he  has  chosen  to  dispense  recon- 
ciliation.   Who  does  not  see,  that,  in  these 
circumstances,  the  guilt  of  sin  is  fearfully 
aggravated  on  the  part  of  sinners,  by  their 
rejection   of  the   Gospel?    Who  does  not 
see,  that  thus  to  refuse  the  grant  of  everlast- 
ing life  in  the  terms  of  the  grant,  is  just  to 
set  an  irretrievable  seal  upon  their  own  con- 
demnation ?    Who  does  not  see,  that,  in  the 
act  of  declining  to  take  the  shelter  which  is 
held    out   to  them,  they  vainly    imagine, 
that  God  will  let  down  his  approbation  to 
such  performances  as  are  utterly  devoid  of 
any  spirit  of  devout  or  dutiful  allegiance  to 
the  Lawgiver  ?    This  is,  in  fact,  a  deliberate 
p  sting  of  themselves,  and  that  more  firmly 
and   more   obstinately  than  ever,   on  the 
ground  of  their  rebellion — and  let  us  no 
longer  wondei,  then,  at  the  terms  of  that 
alternative  of  which  we  read  so  often  in  the 
Bible.  We  there  read,  that  if  we  believe,  we 
shall  be  saved  ;  but  we  also  read,  that  if  we 
believe  not,  we  shall  be  damned.  We  are  there 
told  of  the  great  salvation  ;  but  how  shall 
we  escape  if  we  neglect  it  ?    We  are  there 
invited  to  lay  hold  of  the  Gospel,  as  the 
savour  of  life  unto  life :  but,  if   we  refuse 
the  invitation,  it  shall  be  to  us  the  savour 
of  death  unto  death.    The  gospel  is  there 
freely  proclaimed  to  us,  for  our  acceptance; 
but  if  we  will  notobeythe  Gospel, weshall  be 
punished  with  everlasting  destruction  from 
the  presence  of  the  Saviour's  power.  Wre  are 
asked  to  kiss  the  Son  while  he  is  in  the  way; 
but  if  we  do  not,  the  alternative  is  that  he  will 
be  angry,and  that  his  wrath  will  burn  against 
us.     He  is  revealed  to  us  a  sure  rock,  on 
which  if  we  lean  weshall  not  be  confounded; 
but  if  we  shift  our  dependence  away  from  it, 
it  will  fall  upon  us  and  grind  us  to  powder. 
And  this  alternative,  so  far  from  a  matter 
to  be  wondered  at.  appears  resolvable  into 
a  principle  that  might  be  easily    compre- 
hended.   God  is  the  party  sinned  against: 
and  if  he  have  the  will  to  be  reconciled,  it 


58 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


is  surely  for  him  to  prescribe  the  way  of 
it :  and  this  he  has  actually  done  in  the  re- 
velation of  the  New  Testament:  and  whether 
he  give  a  reason  for  the  way  or  not.  certain 
it  is,  that  in  order  to  give  it  accomplish- 
ment, he  sent  his  eternal  Son  into  our  world ; 
and  this  descent  was  accompanied  with 
such  circumstances  of  humiliation,  and  con- 
flict, and  deep  suffering,  that  heaven  looked 
on  with  astonishment,  and  earth  was  hid- 
den to  rejoice,  because  of  her  great  salva- 
tion. It  is  enough  for  us  to  know  that  God 
lavished  on  this  plan  the  riches  of  a  wisdom 
that  is  unsearchable;  that,  in  the  hearing 
of  sinful  men,  he  has  proclaimed  its  import- 
ance and  its  efficacy ;  that  every  Gospel 
messenger  felt  himself  charged  with  tidings 
pregnant  of  joy,  and  of  mighty  deliverance 
to  the  world.  And  we  ask  you  just  to  con- 
ceive, in  these  circumstances,  what  effect 
it  should  have  on  the  mind  of  the  insulted 
Sovereign,  if  the  world,  instead  of  respond- 
ing, with  grateful  and  delighted  welcome,  to 
the  message,  shall  either  nauseate  its  terms, 
or,  feeling  in  them  no  significancy,  shall 
turn  with  indifference  away  from  it?  Are 
we  at  all  to  wonder  if  the  King,  very  wroth 
with  the  men  of  such  a  world  shall  at  length 
send  his  armies  to  destroy  it  ?  Do  you  think 
it  likely  that  the  same  God,  who  after  we 
had  broken  his  commandment,  was  willing 
to  pass  by  our  transgressions,  will  be  equally 
willing  to  pass  them  by  after  we  have  thus 
despised  the  proclamation  of  his  mercy ; 
after  his  forbearance  and  his  long-suffering 
have  been  resisted ;  and  that  scheme  of  par- 
don, with  the  weight  and  the  magnitude  of 
which  angels  appear  to  labour  in  amaze- 
ment, is  received  by  the  very  men  for  whom 
it  was  devised,  as  a  thing  of  no  estimation  ? 
Surely,  if  there  had  been  justice  in  the  sim- 
ple and  immediate  punishment  of  sin — this 
justice  will  be  discharged  in  still  brighter 
manifestation  on  him,  who,  in  the  face  of 
such  an  embassy,  holds  out  in  his  determi- 
nation to  brave  it.  And,  if  it  be  a  righteous 
thing  in  God  to  avenge  every  violation  of 
his  law,  how  clearly  and  how  irresistibly 
righteous  will  it  appear,  when,  on  the  great 
day  of  his  wrath,  he  taketh  vengeance  on 
those  who  have  added  to  the  violation  of 
his  law,  the  rejection  of  the  Gospel ! 

But  what  is  more  than  this — God  hath 
condescended  to  make  known  to  us  a  rea- 
son, for  that  peculiar  way  of  reconciliation, 
which  he  hath  set  before  us.  It  is,  that  he 
might  be  just  while  the  justifier  of  those 
who  believe  in  Jesus.  In  the  dispensation 
of  his  mercy,  he  had  to  provide  for  the  dig- 
nity of  his  throne.  He  had  to  guard  the 
stability  of  his  truth  and  of  his  righteous- 
ness. He  had  to  pour  the  lustre  of  a  high 
and  awful  vindication,  over  the  attributes 
of  a  nature  that  is  holy  and  unchangeable. 
He  had  to  make  peace  on  earth  and  good 
will  to  men  meet,  and  be  at  one  with  glory 


to  God  in  the  highest ;  and  for  this  purpose 
did  the  eternal  Son  pour  out  his  soul  an  of- 
fering for  sin,  and  by  his  obedience  unto 
death,  bring  in  an  everlasting  righteousness. 
It  is  through  the  channel  of  this  great  ex- 
piation that  the  guilt  of  every  believer  is 
washed  away ;  and  it  is  through  the  im- 
puted merits  of  him  with  whom  the  Fathei 
was  well  pleased,  that  every  believer  is  ad- 
mitted to  the  rewards  of  a  perfect  obedience. 
Conceive  any  man  of  this  world  to  reject 
the  offers  of  reward  and  forgiveness  in  this 
way,  and  to  look  for  them  in  another.  Con- 
ceive him  to  challenge  the  direct  approba- 
tion of  his  Judge,  on  the  measure  of  his 
own  vvorth,  and  his  own  performances,  and 
to  put  away  from  him  that  righteousm  ss  of 
Christ,  in  the  measure  of  wnich  there  is  no 
short  coming.  Is  he  not,  by  this  attitude, 
holding  out  against  God,  and  that  too,  on  a 
question  in  which  the  justice  of  God  stands 
committed  against  him?  Is  not  the  poor 
sinner  of  a  day  entering  into  a  fearful  con- 
troversy, with  all  the  plans,  and  all  the  per- 
fections of  the  Eternal?  Might  not  you 
conceive  every  attribute  of  the  Divinity, 
gathering  into  a  frown  of  deeper  indigna- 
tion against  the  daringness  of  him,  who 
thus  demands  the  favour  of  the  Almighty 
on  some  plea  of  his  own,  and  resolutely 
declines  it  on  that  only  plea,  under  which 
the  acceptance  of  the  sinner  can  be  in  har- 
mony with  the  glories  of  God's  holy  and 
inviolable  character?  Surely,  if  we  have 
fallen  short  of  the  obedience  of  his  law,  and 
so  short  as  to  have  renounced  altogether 
that  godliness  which  imparts  to  obedience 
its  spiritual  and  substantial  quality. — then 
do  we  aggravate  the  enormity  of  our  sin, 
by  building  our  hope  before  God  on  a  foun- 
dation of  sin?  To  sin  is  to  defy  Cod :  but 
the  very  presumption  that  he  will  smile 
complacency  upon  it,  involves  in  it  another, 
and  a  still  more  deliberate  attack  upon  his 
government ;  and  all  its  sanctions,  and  all 
its  severities,  are  let  loose  upon  us  in  greater 
force  and  abundance  than  before,  if  we 
either  rest  upon  our  own  virtue,  or  mix  up 
this  polluted  ingredient  with  the  righteous- 
ness of  Christ,  and  refuse  our  single,  entire, 
and  undivided  reliance  on  him  who  alone 
has  magnified  the  law  and  made  it  honour- 
able. 

But  such,  if  we  maybe  allowed  the  expres- 
sion, is  the  constitution  of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ,  that,  in  proportion  to  the  terror  which 
it  holds  out  to  those  who  neglect  it,  is  the 
security  that  it  provides  to  all  who  flee  for 
refuge  to  the  hope  which  is  set  before  them. 
Paul  understood  this  well,  when,  though  he 
profited  over  many  of  his  equals  in  his  own 
nation, — when,  though  ha*d  he  measured 
himself  by  them,  he  might  have  gathered 
from  the  comparison  a  feeling  of  proud  su- 
periority,— when,  though  in  all  that  was 
counted  righteous  among  his  fellows,  he 


VIII. 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


59 


signalized  himself  in  general  estimation, — 
yet  he  willingly  renounced  a  dependence 
upon  all,  that  he  might  win  Christ,  and  be 
found  in  him,  not  having  his  own  righ- 
teousness, which  was  of  the  law,  but  that 
righteousness  which  is  through  the  faith  of 
Christ,  even  the  righteousness  which  is  of 
God  by  faith.  He  felt  the  force  of  the  al- 
ternative, between  the  former  and  the  latter 
righteousness.  He  knew  that  the  one  ad- 
mitted of  no  measurement  with  the  other  ; 
and  that  whatever  appearance  of  worth  it 
had  in  the  eyes  of  men,  when  brought  to 
their  relative  and  earthly  standard,  it  was 
reduced  to  nothing,and  worse  than  nothing, 
when  brought  to  the  standard  of  Heaven's 
holy  and  unalterable  law.  Jesus  Christ  has 
in  our  nature  fulfilled  this  law;  and  it  is  in 
the  righteousness  which  he  thus  wrought, 
that  we  are  invited  to  stand  before  God. 
You  do  not  then  take  in  a  full  impression 
of  Gospel  security,  if  you  only  believe  that 
God  is  merciful,  and  has  forgiven  you.  You 
are  called  farther  to  believe,  that  God  is 
righteous,  and  has  justified  you.  You  have 
a  warrant  to  put  on  the  righteousness  of 
Christ  as  a  robe  and  a  diadem,  and  to  go 
to  the  throne  of  grace  with  the  petition  of 
Look  upon  me  in  the  face  of  him  who  hath 
fulfilled  all  righteousness.  You  are  furnished 
with  such  a  measure  of  righteousness  as 
God  can  accept,  without  letting  down  a 
single  attribute  which  belongs  to  him.  The 
truth,  and  the  justice,  and  the  holiness, 
which  stand  in  such  threatening  array 
against  the  sinner  who  is  out  of  Christ, 
now  form  into  a  shield  and  a  hiding-place 
around  him.  And  while  he  who  trusts  in 
the  general  mercy  of  God  does  so  at  the 
expense  of  his  whole  character,  he  who 
trusts  in  the  mercy  of  God,  which  hath  ap- 
peared unto  all  men  through  the  Saviour, 
offers  in  that  act  of  confidence  an  homage 
to  every  perfection  of  the  Divinity,  and  has 
every  perfection  of  the  Divinity  upon  his 
side.  And  thus  it  is,  that  under  the  economy 
of  redemption,  we  now  read,  not  merely  of 
God  br-ing  merciful,  but  of  God  being  just 
and  faithful  in  forgiving  our  sins,  and  in 
cleansing  us  from  all  our  unrighteousness. 

Thus  much  for  what  may  be  called  the 
judicial  ria-hteonsness  with  which  every 
believer  is  invested  by  having  the  merits  of 
Christ  imputed  to  him  through  faith.  But 
this  faith  is  something  more  than  a  name. 
It  takes  up  a  positive  residence  in  the  mind 
as  a  principle.  It  has  locality  and  opera- 
tion there,  and  has  either  no  existence  at 
all,  or  by  its  purifying  and  reforming  in- 
fluence on  the  holder  of  it,  does  it  invest 
him  also  with  a  personal  righteousness. 

Now,  to  apply  the  conception  of  our  text 
to  this  personal  righteousness,  the  first  thing 
we  would  say  of  it  is,  that  it  admits  of  no 
measurement  whatever  with  the  social 
worth,  or  the  moral  virtue,  or  any  other  of 


the  personal  accomplishments  of  character 
which  may  belong  to  those  who  have  not 
the  faith  of  the  Gospel.  Faith  accepts  of 
the  offered  reconciliation,  and  moves  away 
from  the  alienated  heart  those  suspicions, 
and  aversions,  and  fears,  which  kept  man 
asunder  from  his  God.  We  would  not  say, 
then,  of  the  personal  righteousness  of  a  be- 
liever, that  it  consisted  in  a  higher  degree 
of  that  virtue  which  may  exist  in  a  lower 
degree  with  him  who  is  not  a  believer.  It 
consists  in  the  dawn,  and  the  progress,  and 
the  perfecting  of  a  virtue,  which,  b<  fore  he 
was  a  believer,  had  no  existence  whatever. 
It  consists  in  the  possession  of  a  character 
of  which,  previous  to  his  acceptance  of 
Christ,  he  had  not  the  smallest  feature  of 
reality,  though  to  the  external  eye,  there 
may  have  been  some  features  of  resem- 
blance. The  principle  of  Christian  sancti- 
fication,  which,  if  we  were  to  express  it  by 
another  name,  we  would  call  devoted ness 
to  God,  is  no  more  to  be  found  in  the  un- 
believing world,  than  the  principle  of  an 
allegiance  to  their  rightful  sovereign,  is  to 
be  found  among  the  outcasts  of  banishment. 
It  is  not  by  any  stretching  out  of  the  mea- 
sure of  your  former  virtues,  then,  that  you 
can  attain  this  principle.  There  needs  to 
be  originated  within  you  a  new  virtue  al- 
together. It  is  not  by  the  fostering  of  that 
which  is  old, — it  is  by  the  creation  of  some- 
thing new,  that  a  man  comes  to  have  the 
personal  righteousness  of  a  disciple  of  the 
New  Testament.  It  is  by  giving  existence 
to  that  which  formerly  had  no  existence. 
And  let  us  no  longer  wonder,  then,  at  the 
magnitude  of  the  terms  which  are  employed 
in  the  Bible,  to  denote  the  change,  the  per- 
sonal change,  which  in  point  of  character, 
and  affection,  and  principle,  takes  place  on 
all  who  become  meet  for  the  inheritance 
of  the  saints.  It  is  there  called  life  from 
the  dead,  and  a  new  birth,  and  a  total  reno- 
vation,— all  old  things  are  said  to  be  done 
away,  and  all  things  to  become  new.  With 
many  it  is  a  wonder  how  a  change  of  such 
totality  and  of  such  magnitude,  should  be 
accounted  as  indispensable  to  the  good  and 
creditable  man  of  society,  as  the  sunken 
profligate.  But  if  the  one  and  the  other 
are  both  dead  to  a  sense  of  their  Lawgiver 
in  heaven, — then  both  need  to  be  made  alive 
unto  him.  With  both  there  must  be  the 
power  and  the  reality  of  a  spiritual  resur- 
rection. And  after  this  great  transition  has 
been  made,  it  will  be  found  that  the  virtues 
of  the  new  state,  and  those  of  the  old  state, 
cannot  be  brought  to  any  common  standard 
of  measurement  at  all.  The  one  distances 
the  other  by  a  wide  and  impassable  inter- 
val. There  is  all  the  difference  in  point  of 
principle  between  a  man  of  the  world  and 
a  new  creature  in  Christ,  that  there  is  be- 
tween him  who  has  the  Spirit  of  God,  and 
him  who  has  it  not, — and  all  the  difference 


60 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


in  point  of  performance,  that  there  is  be- 
tween him  who  is  without  Christ,  and  can 
therefore  do  nothing,  and  him  who  can 
do  all  things  through  Christ  strengthening 
him.  There  is  a  new  principle  now,  which 
formerly  had  no  operation,  even  that  of 
godliness, — and  a  new  influence  now,  even 
that  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  given  to  the  prayers 
of  the  believer; — and  under  these  provi- 
sions will  he  attain  a  splendour  and  an  en- 
ergy of  character,  with  which,  the  better 
and  the  best  of  this  world  can  no  more  be 
brought  into  comparison,  than  earth  will 
compare  with  heaven,  or  the  passions  and 
the  frivolities  of  time,  with  the  pure  ambi- 
tion and  the  lofty  principles  of  eternity. 

And  let  it  not  be  said,  that  the  transforma- 
tion of  which  we  are  now  speaking,  in- 
stead of  being  thus  entire  and  universal, 
consists  only  with  a  good  man  of  the  world 
in  the  addition  of  one  virtue,  to  his  previous 
stock  of  many  virtues.  We  admit  that  he 
had  justice  before,  and  humanity  before, 
and  courteousness  before,  and  that  the  god- 
liness which  he  had  not  before,  is  only  one 
virtue.  But  the  station  which  it  asserts, 
among  the  other  virtues,  is  a  station  of 
supreme  authority.  It  no  sooner  takes 
its  place  among  them,  than  it  animates 
them  all,  and  subordinates  them  all.  It  sends 
forth  among  them  a  new  and  pervading 
quality,  which  makes  them  essentially 
different  from  what  they  were  before.  I 
may  take  daily  exercise  from  a  regal  1  to 
my  health,  and  by  so  doing  I  may  deserve 
the  character  of  a  man  of  prudence  ;  or  I 
may  take  daily  exercise  apart  from  this 
consideration  altogether,  and  because  it  is 
the  accidental  wish  of  my  parents  that  I 
should  do  so  ;  and  thus  may  I  deserve  the 
character  of  a  man  of  filial  piety.  The  ex- 
ternal habit  is  the  same ;  but  under  the  one 
principle,  the  moral  character  of  this  habit 
is  totally  and  essentially  different  from 
what  it  is  under  the  other  principle.  Yet 
the  difference  here,  is,  most  assuredly,  not 
greater  than  is  the  difference  between  the 
justice  of  a  good  man  of  society,  and  the 
justice  of  a  Christian  disciple.  In  the 
former  case,  it  is  done  unto  others,  or  done 
unto  himself.  In  the  latter  case,  it  is  done 
unto  God.  The  frame-work  of  his  outer 
doings  is  animated  by  another  spirit  alto- 
gether. There  is  the  breath  of  another  life 
in  it.  The  inscription  of  Holiness  to  God 
stands  engraven  on  the  action  of  the  be- 
liever ;  and  if  this  character  of  holiness  be 
utterly  effaced  from  the  corresponding 
action  of  the  good  man  of  society,  then, 
surely,  in  character,  in  worth,  [n  spiritual 
and  intelligent  estimation,  mere  is  the  ut- 
most possible  diversity  between  the  two 
actions.  So  that,  should  the  most  upright 
and  amiable  man  upon  earth  embrace  the 
Gospel  faith,  and  become  the  subject  of  the 
Gospel  regeneration, — it  is  true  of  him,  too, 


that  all  old  things  are  done  away,  and  that 
all  things  have  become  new. 

Thus  it  is,  that  while  none  of  the  Christian 
virtues  can  be  made  to  come  into  measure- 
ment with  any  of  what  may  be  called  the 
constitutii  nal  virtues,  in  respect  of  their 
principle,  because  the  principle  of  the  one 
set  differs  from  that  of  the  other  set,  in  kind 
as  well  as  in  degree,  yet  there  are  certain 
corresponding  virtues  in  each  of  the  classes, 
which  might  be  brought  together  into  mea- 
surement, in  respect  of  visible  and  external 
performance.  And  it  is  a  high  point  of 
obligation  with  every  disciple  of  the  faith, 
so  to  sustain  his  part  in  this  competition, 
as  to  show  forth  the  honour  of  Christianity ; 
to  prove  by  his  own  personal  history  in 
the  world,  how  much  the  morality  of  grace 
outstrips  the  morality  of  nature ;  to  evince 
the  superior  lustre  and  steadiness  of  the 
one,  when  compared  with  the  frail,  and 
fluctuating,  and  desultory  character  of  the 
other;  and  to  make  it  clear  to  the  eye  of 
experience,  that  it  is  only  under  the  pecu- 
liar government  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ, 
that  all  which  is  amiable  in  human  worth, 
becomes  most  lovely,  and  all  which  is  justly 
held  in  human  admiration,  becomes  most 
great,  and  lofty,  and  venerable.  The  Bible 
tells  us  to  provide  things  honest  in  the  sight 
of  men,  as  well  as  of  God.  It  tells  us,  that 
upon  the  person  of  every  Christian,  the 
features  of  excellence  should  stand  so  legi- 
bly engraven,  that,  as  a  living  epistle,  he 
might  be  seen  and  read  of  all  men.  It  is 
true,  there  is  much  in  the  character  of  a 
genuine  believer  which  the  world  cannot 
see,  and  cannot  sympathize  with.  There 
is  the  rapture  of  faith,  when  in  lively  exer- 
cise. There  is  the  ecstacy  of  devotion. 
There  is  a  calm  and  settled  serenity  amid 
all  the  vicissitudes  of  life.  There  is  the 
habit  of  having  no  confidence  in  the  flesh, 
and  of  rejoicing  in  the  Lord  Jesus.  There 
is  a  holding  fast  of  our  hope  in  the  pro- 
mises of  the  Gospel.  There  is  a  cherishing 
of  the  Spirit  of  adoption.  There  is  the 
work  of  a  believing  fellowship  with  the 
Father  and  with  the  Son.  There  is  a  move- 
ment of  affection  towards  the  things  which 
are  above.  There  is  a  building  up  of  our- 
selves on  our  most  holy  faith.  There  is  a 
praying  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  There  is  a 
watching  for  his  influence  with  all  perse- 
verance. In  a  word,  there  is  all  which 
the  Christian  knows  to  be  real,  and  which 
the  world  hates,  and  denounces  as  visionary, 
in  the  secret,  but  sublime  and  substantial 
processes  of  experimental  religion. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  also 
much  in  the  doings  of  an  altogether  Chris- 
tian of  that  palpable  virtue  which  forces 
itself  upon  general  observation ;  and  he  is 
most  grievously  untrue  to  his  master's 
cause,  if  he  do  not,  on  this  ground,  so  out- 
run the  world,  as  to  force  from  the  men  of 


IX.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


61 


it,  an  approving  testimony.  The  eye  of 
the  world  cannot  enter  within  the  spiritual 
recesses  of  his  heart;  but  let  him  ever  re- 
member that  it  is  fastened,  and  that  too 
with  keen  and  scrutinizing  jealousy,  on  the 
path  of  his  visible  history.  It  will  offer  no 
homage  to  the  mere  sanctity  of  his  com- 
plexion ;  nor,  unless  there  be  shed  over  it 
the  expression  of  what  is  mild  in  domestic, 
or  honourable  in  public  virtue,  will  it  ever 
look  upon  him  in  any  other  light,  than  as 
an  object  of  the  most  unmingled  disgust. 
And  therefore  it  is,  that  he  must  enter  on 
the  field  of  ostensible  accomplishment,  and 
there  bear  away  the  palm  of  superiority, 
and  be  the  most  eminent  of  his  fellows  in 
all  those  recognized  virtues,  that  can  bless 
or  embellish  the  condition  of  society;  the 
most  untainted  in  honour,  and  the  most  dis- 
interested in  justice,  and  the  most  alert  in 
beneficence,  and  the  most  unwearied  in  all 
these  graces,  under  every  discouragement 
and  every  provocation. 

We  have  now  only  time  to  say,  that  we 
shall  not  regret  the  length  of  this  discourse, 
or  even  the  recurrence  of  some  of  its  argu- 
ments, if  any  hearer  amongst  you,  not  in 
the  faith,  be  led  by  it,  to  withdraw  his  con- 
fidence from  the   mere   accomplishments 


of  nature, — and  if  any  believer  amongst 
you  be  led  by  it  not  to  despise  these  accom- 
plishments, but  to  put  them  on,  and  to  ani- 
mate them  all  with  the  spirit  of  religious- 
ness,— if  any  hearer  amongst  you,  beginning 
to  perceive  his  own  nothingness  in  the  sight 
of  God,  be  prompted  to  inquire,  Wherewithal 
shall  1  appear  before  him?  and  not  to  rest 
from  the  inquiry,  till  he  flee  from  his  hiding- 
place,  to  that  everlasting  righteousness 
which  the  Saviour  hath  brought  in  :  and  if 
any  believer  amongst  you,  rightly  dividing 
the  word  of  truth,  shall  act  on  the  principle, 
that  though  nothing  but  the  doctrine  of 
Christ  crucified,  can  avail  him  for  accept- 
ance with  God,  yet  he  is  bound  to  adorn 
this  doctrine  in  all  things.  And  knowing 
that  one  may  acquiesce  in  the  whole  of 
such  a  demonstration,  without  carrying  it 
personally  home,  we  leave  off  with  the  sin- 
gle remark,  that  every  conviction  not  prose- 
cuted, every  movement  of  conscience  not 
followed  up,  every  ray  of  light  or  of  truth 
not  turned  to  individual  application,  will 
aggravate  the  reckoning  of  the  great  day, — 
and  that  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  ur- 
gency which  has  been  brought  to  bear  upon 
you,  and  been  resisted,  will  be  the  weight 
and  the  justness  of  your  final  condemnation. 


SERMON  IX. 
The  Principle  of  Love  to  God. 

"  Keep  yourselves  in  the  love  of  God." — Jude  21. 


It  is  not  easy  to  give  the  definition  of  a 
term,  which  is  currently  and  immediately 
understood  without  one.  But,  should  not 
this  ready  understanding  of  the  term  super- 
sede the  definition  of  it,  what  can  we  tell 
of  love  in  the  way  of  explanation,  but  by  a 
substitution  of  terms,  not  more  simple  and 
more  intelligible  than  itself?  Can  this  affec- 
tion of  the  soul  be  made  clearer  to  you  by 
words,  than  it  is  already  clear  to  you  by 
your  own  consciousness?  Are  we  to  at- 
tempt the  elucidation  of  a  term,  which, 
without  any  feeling  of  darkness  or  of  mys- 
tery, you  make  familiar  use  of  every  day  ? 
You  say  with  the  utmost  promptitude,  and 
you  have  just  as  ready  an  apprehension  of 
the  meaning  of  what  you  say,  that  I  love 
this  man,  and  bear  a  still  higher  regard  to 
another,  but  have  my  chief  and  my  best 
liking  directed  to  a  third.  We  will  not  at- 
tempt to  go  in  search  of  a  more  luminous 
or  expressive  term,  for  this  simple  affection, 
than  the  one  that  is  commonly  employed. 
But  it  is  a  different  thing  to  throw  light  upon 
the  workings  of  this  affection, — to  point 
your  attention  to  the  objects  on  which  it 


rests,  and  finds  a  complacent  gratification,— 
and  to  assign  the  circumstances,  which  are 
either  favourable  or  unfavourable  to  its  ex- 
citement. All  this  may  call  forth  an  exer- 
cise of  discrimination.  But  instead  of  dwell- 
ing any  more  on  the  significancy  of  the 
term  love,  which  is  the  term  of  my  text,  let 
us  forthwith  take  it  unto  use,  and  be  confi- 
dent that,  in  itself,  it  carries  no  ambiguity 
along  with  it. 

The  term  love,  indeed,  admits  of  a  real 
and  intelligible  application  to  inanimate  ob- 
jects. There  is  a  beauty  in  sights,  and  a 
beauty  in  sounds,  and  I  may  bear  a  posi- 
tive love  to  the  mute  and  unconscious  in- 
dividuals in  which  this  beauty  hath  taken 
up  its  residence.  I  may  love  a  flower,  or 
a  murmuring  stream,  or  a  sunny  bank,  or  a 
humble  cottage  peeping  forth  from  its  con- 
cealment,— or  in  fine,  a  whole  landscape 
may  teem  with  such  varied  graces,  that  I 
may  say  of  it,  this  is  the  scene  I  most  love 
to  behold,  this  is  the  prospect  over  which 
my  eye  and  my  imagination  most  fondly 
expatiate. 

The  term  love  admits  of  an  equally  real 


62 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


and  equally  intelligible  application  to  our 
fellow-men.  They,  too,  are  the  frequent 
and  familiar  objects  of  this  affection,  and 
they  often  are  so,  because  they  possess  cer- 
tain accomplishments  of  person  and  of  cha- 
racter, by  which  it  is  excited.  I  love  the 
man  whose  every  glance  speaks  an  effusive 
cordiality  towards  those  who  are  around 
him.  I  love  the  man  whose  heart  and 
whose  hand  are  ever  open  to  the  represen- 
tations of  distress.  I  love  the  man  who 
possesses  such  a  softness  of  nature,  that  the 
imploring  look  of  a  brother  in  want,  or  of 
a  brother  in  pain,  disarms  him  of  all  his 
selfishness,  and  draws  him  out  to  some  large 
and  willing  surrender  of  generosity.  I  love 
the  man  who  carries  on  his  aspect,  not 
merely  the  expression  of  worth,  but  of 
worth  maintained  in  the  exercise  of  all  its 
graces,  under  every  variety  of  temptation 
and  discouragement ;  who,  in  the  midst  of 
calumny,  can  act  the  warm  and  enlightened 
philanthropist ;  who,  when  beset  with  many 
provocations,  can  weather  them  all  in  calm 
and  settled  endurance;  who  can  be  kind 
even  to  the  unthankful  and  the  evil ;  and 
who,  if  he  possess  the  awful  virtues  of  truth 
and  of  justice,  only  heightens  our  attach- 
ment the  more,  that  he  possesses  goodness, 
and  tenderness,  and  benignity  along  with 
them. 

Now,  we  would  have  you  to  advert  to 
one  capital  distinction  between  the  former 
and  the  latter  class  of  objects.  The  inani- 
mate reflect  no  love  upon  us  back  again. 
They  do  not  single  out  any  one  of  their  ad- 
mirers, and,  by  an  act  of  preference,  either 
minister  to  his  selfish  appetite  for  esteem, 
or  minister  to  his  selfish  appetite  for  enjoy- 
ment, by  affording  to  him  a  larger  share 
than  to  others,  of  their  presence,  and  of  all 
the  delights  which  their  presence  inspires. 
They  remain  motionless  in  their  places, 
without  will  and  without  sensibility;  and 
the  homage  they  receive,  is  from  the  dis- 
interested affection  which  men  bear  to  their 
loveliness.  They  are  loved, and  that  purely, 
because  they  are  lovely.  There  is  no  mix- 
ture of  selfishness  in  the  affection  that  is  of- 
fered to  them.  They  do  not  put  on  a 
sweeter  smile  to  one  man  than  to  another ; 
but  all  the  features  of  that  beauty  in  which 
they  are  arrayed,  stand  inflexibly  the  same 
to  every  beholder ;  and  he,  without  any  con- 
scious mingling  whatever  of  self-love,  in 
the  emotion  with  which  he  gazes  at  the 
charms  of  some  external  scenery,  is  actu- 
ated by  a  love  towards  it,  which  rests  and 
which  terminates  on  the  objects  that  he  is 
employed  in  contemplating. 

But  this  is  not  always  the  case  when  our 
fellow  men  are  objects  of  this  affection.  I 
should  love  cordiality,  and  benevolence,  and 
compassion  for  their  own  sakes;  but  let 
your  own  experience  tell  how  far  more 
eweetly  and  more  intensely  the  love  is  felt, 


when  this  cordiality  is  turned,  in  one  stream 
of  kindliness,  towards  myself;  when  the 
eye  of  friendship  has  singled  out  me,  and 
looks  at  me  with  a  peculiar  graciousntss; 
when  the  man  of  tenderness  has  pointed 
his  way  to  the  abode  of  my  suffering  family, 
and  there  shed  in  secrecy  over  them  his 
liberalities,  and  his  tears ;  when  he  has  for- 
given me  the  debt  that  I  was  unable  to  dis- 
charge; and  when,(  ppressed  as  I  am,  by  the 
consciousness  of  "ha\ing  injured  or  reviled 
him,  he  has  nobly  forgotten  or  overlooked 
the  whole  provocation,  and  persists  in  a  re- 
gard that  knows  no  abatement,  in  a  well- 
doing that  is  never  weary 

There  is  an  element,  then,  in  the  love  I 
bear  to  a  fellow  man,  which  does  not  exist 
in  the  love  I  bear  to  an  inanimate  object , 
and  which  may  serve,  perhaps,  to  darken 
the  character  of  the  affection  1  feel  towards 
the  former.  We  most  readily  concede  it, 
that  the  love  of  another,  on  account  of  the 
virtues  which  adorn  him,  changes  its  moral 
character  altogether,  if  it  be  a  love  to  him, 
solely  on  account  of  the  benefit  which  I  de- 
rive from  the  exercise  of  these  virtues.  I 
should  love  compassion  on  its  own  account, 
as  well  as  on  the  account  that  it  is  I  who 
have  been  the  object  of  it.  I  should  love 
justice  on  its  own  account,  as  well  as  on 
the  account  that  my  grievances  have  been 
redressed  by  the  dispensation  of  it.  On 
looking  at  goodness,  J  should  feel  an  affec- 
tion resting  on  this  object,  and  finding  there 
its  full  and  its  terminating  gratification; 
and  that,  though  I  had  never  stood  in  the 
way  of  any  one  of  its  beneficent  operations. 

How  is  it,  then,  that  the  special  direction 
of  a  moral  virtue  in  another,  towards  the 
object  of  my  personal  benefit,  operates  in 
enhancing  both  the  sensation  which  it  im- 
parts to  my  heart,  and  the  estimate  which  I 
form  of  it  ?  What  is  the  peculiar  quality  com- 
municated to  my  admiration  of  another's 
friendship,  and  another's  goodness,  by  the 
circumstance  of  myself  being  the  individual 
towards  whom  that  friendship  is  cherished, 
and  in  favour  of  whom,  that  goodness  puts 
itself  forth  into  active  exertion?  At  the 
sight  of  a  benevolent  man,  there  arises  in 
my  bosom  an  instantaneous  homage  of  re- 
gard and  of  reverence; — but  should  that 
homage  take  a  pointed  direction  towards 
myself, — should  it  realize  its  fruits  on  the 
comfort,  and  the  security  of  my  own  per- 
son,— should  it  be  employed  in  gladdening 
my  home,  and  spreading  enjoyment  over 
my  family,  oppressed  with  want  and  pining 
in  sickness,  there  is,  you  will  allow,  by 
these  circumstances,  a  heightening  of  the 
love  and  the  admiration  that  I  formerly 
rendered  him.  And,  we  should  like  to  know 
what  is  the  precise  character  of  the  addition 
that  has  thus  been  given  to  my  regard  for 
the  virtue  of  benevolence.  We  should  like 
to  know,  if  it  be  altogether  a  pure  and  a 


IX.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


63 


praise-worthy  accession  that  lias  thus  come 
upon  the  sentiment  with  which  I  now  look 
at  my  benefactor, — or,  if,  by  contracting 
any  taint  of  selfishness,  it  has  lost,  the  high 
rank  thai  formerly  belonged  to  it,  as  a  dis- 
interested  affection,  towards  the  goodness 
which  beautifies  and  adorns  his  character. 
There  is  one  way,  however,  in  which 
this  special  direction  of  a  moral  virtue  to- 
wards my  particular  interest,  may  increase 
my  affection  for  it,  and  without  changing 
the  moral  character  of  my  affection.     It 
gives  me  a  nearer  view  of  the  virtue  in 
question.    It  is  true,  that  the  virtue  may  just 
be  as  lovely  when  exercised  in  behalf  of  my 
neighbour,  as  when  exercised  in  behalf  of 
myself.    But,  in  the  former  case,  I  am  not 
an  eye-witness  to  the  display  and  the  evo- 
lution of  its  loveliness.    I  am  a  limited  be- 
ing, who  cannot  take  in  so  full  and  so  dis- 
tinct an  impression  of  the  character  of  what 
is  distant,  as  of  the  character  of  what  is 
immediately  beside  me.    It  is  true,  that  all 
the  circumstances  may  be  reported.     But 
you  know  very  well,  that  a  much  livelier 
representation  is  obtained  of  any  object, 
by  the  seeing  of  it,  than  by  the  hearing  of 
it.    To  be  told  of  kindness,  does  not  bring 
this  attribute  of  character  so  forcibly,  or  so 
clearly  home  to  my  observation,  as  to  re- 
ceive a  visit  from  kindness,  and  to  take  it 
by  the  hand,  and  to  see  its  benignant  mien, 
and  to  hear  its  gentle  and  complacent  voice, 
and  to  witness  the  solicitude  of  its  inquiries, 
and  to  behold  its  tender  and  honest  anxiety 
for  my   interest,  and  to  share  daily  and 
weekly  in  the  liberalities  which  it  has  be- 
stowed upon  me.    When  all  this  goes  on 
around  my  own  person,  and  within  the 
limits  of  my  own  dwelling-place,  it  is  very 
true  that  self  is  gratified,  and  that  this  cir- 
cumstance   may   give   rise   to   sensations, 
which  are  altogether  distinct  from  the  love 
I  bear  to  moral  worth,  or  to  moral  excel- 
lence.   Tint  this  does  not  hinder,  that  along 
with  these  sensations,  a  disinterested  love 
for  the  moral  virtue  of  which  I  have  been 
the  object,  may,  at  the  same  time,  have  its 
room  and  its  residence  within  my  bosom. 
I  may  love  goodness  more  than  ever,  on 
its  own  account,  since  it  has  taken  its  spe- 
cific way  to  my  habitation,  and  that,  just 
because  I  have  obtained  a  nearer  acquaint- 
ance with  it.    I  may  love  it  better,  because 
I  know  it  better.    My  affection  for  it  may 
have  become  more  intense,  and  more  de- 
voted than  before,  because  its  beauty  is  now 
more  fully  unfolded  to  the  eye  of  my  ob- 
servation than  before.    And  thus,  while  we 
admit  that  the  goodness  of  which  I  am  the 
object,  originates  within  me  certain  feelings 
different  in  kind  from  that  which  is  excited 
by  goodness  in  .the  general,  yet  it  may 
heighten  the  degree  of  this  latter  feeling 
also.    It  may  kindle  or  augment  the  love  I 
bear  to  moral  virtue  in  itself;  or,  in  other 


words,  it  may  enhance  my  affection  for 
worth,  without  any  change  whatever  in 
the  moral  character  of  that  affection. 

Now,  before  we  proceed  to  consider  those 
peculiar  emotions  which  are  excited  within 
me,  by  being  the  individual,  in  whose  i\^ 
vour  certain  virtues  are  exercised,  and  which 
emotions  are,  all  of  them,  different  in  kind 
from  the  affection  that  I  bear  for  these  vir- 
tues, — let  us  farther  observe,  that  the  term 
love,  when  applied  to  sentient  beings  con- 
sidered as  the  object  of  it,  may  denote  an 
affection,  different  in  the  principle  of  its  ex- 
citement, from  any  that  we  have  been  yet 
considering.    My  love  to  another  may  lie 
in  the  liking  I  have  for  the  moral  qualities 
which  belong  to  him;  and  this,  by  way  of 
distinctness,  may  be  called  the  love  of  moral 
esteem  or  approbation.    Or,  my  love  to  an- 
other may  consist  in  the  desire  I  have  for 
his  happiness;  and  this  may  be  called  the 
love  of  kindness.    These  two  are  often  al- 
lied to  each  other  in  fact,  but  there  is  a  real 
difference  in  their  nature.     The   love  of 
kindness  which  I  bear  to  my  infant  child 
may  have  no  reference  to  its  moral  qualities 
whatever.    This  love  finds  its  terminating 
gratification  in  obtaining,  for  the  object  of 
it,  exemption  from  pain,  or  in  ministering 
to  its  enjoyments.    It  is  very  true,  that  the 
sight  of  what  is  odious  or  revolting  in  the 
character  of  another,  tends,  in  point  of  fact, 
to  dissipate  all  the  love  of  kindness  I  may 
have  ever  borne  to  him.     But  it  does  not 
always   do   so,  and  one   instance  of  this 
proves  a  real  distinction,  in  point  of  nature, 
between  the  love  of  kindness,  and  the  love 
of  moral    esteem.     And    the  highest  and 
most  affecting  instance  which  can  be  given 
of  this  distinction,  is  in  the  love  wherewith 
God  hath  loved  the  world ;  is  in  that  kind- 
ness  t  wards   us,   through    Christ    Jesus, 
which  he  hath  made  known  to  men  in  the 
Gospe  ;  is  in  that  longing  regard   to  his 
fallen  creatures,  whereby  he  was  not  will- 
ing that  any  should  perish,  but  rather  that 
all  should  live.    There  was  the  love  of  kind- 
ness standing  out,  in  marked  and  separate 
display,  from  the  love  of  moral  esteem ;  for, 
alas !  in  the  degraded  race  of  mankind,  there 
was  not  one  quality  which  could  call  forth 
such  an  affection  in  the  breast  of  the  God- 
head.   It  was,  when  we  were  hateful  to  him 
in  character,  that  in  person  and  in  interest 
we  were  the  objects  of  his  most  unbounded 
tenderness.    It  was,  when  we  were  enemies 
by  wicked  works,  that  God  looked  on  with 
pity,  and  stretched  forth,  to  his  guilty  chil- 
dren, the  arms  of  offered  reconciliation.     It 
was  when  we  had  wandered  far  in  the  paths 
of  worthlessness  and  alienation,  that  he  de- 
vised a  message  of  love,  and  sent  his  Son 
into  our  world,  to  seek  and  to  save  us. 

And  this,  by  the  way,  may  serve  to  il- 
lustrate the  kind  of  love  which  we  are  re- 
quired to  bear  to  our  enemies.    "We  are  re 


64 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


quired  to  love  them,  in  the  same  way  in 
which  God  loves  his  enemies.    A  conscien- 
tious man  will  feel  oppressed  by  the  diffi- 
culty of  such  a  precept,  if  he  try  to  put  it 
into  obedience,  by  loving  those  who  have  of- 
fended,with  the  same  feeling  of  complacency 
with  which  he  loves  those  who  have  be- 
friended him.    But  the  truth  is,  that  the  love 
of  moral  esteem  often  enters,  as  a  principal 
ingredient,  into  the  love  of  complacency ; 
and  we  are  not  required,  by  our  imitation 
of  the  Godhead,  to  entertain  any  such  affec- 
tion for  the  depraved  and  the  worthless.    It 
is  enough,  that  we  cherish  towards  them  in 
our  hearts  the  love  of  kindness;  and  this 
will  be  felt  a  far  more  practicable  achieve- 
ment, than  to  force  up  the  love  of  compla- 
cency into  a  bosom,  revolted  by  the  aspect 
of  treachery,  or  dishonesty,  or  unprincipled 
selfishness.    There  is  no  possible  motive  to 
excite  the  latter  affection.    There  may  be  a 
thousand  to  excite  the  former :  and  we  have 
only  to  look  to  the  unhappy  man  in  all  his 
prospects,  and  in  all  his  relations;  we  have 
only  to  pity  his  delusions,  and  to  view  him 
as  the  hapless  victim  of  a  sad  and   ruin- 
ous infatuation  ;  we  have  only  to  carry  our 
eye  onwards  to  the  agonies  of  that  death, 
which  will  shortly  lay  hold  of  him,  and  to 
compute  the  horrors  of  that  eternity,  which, 
if  not  recovered  from  the  error  of  his  way, 
he  is  about  to  enter ;  we  have  only,  in  a 
word,  to  put  forth  an  exercise  of  faith  in 
certain  near  and  impending  realities,  the 
evidence  of  whi-ch  is  altogether  resistless,  in 
order  to  summon  up  such  motives,  and  such 
considerations,  as  may  cause  the  compassion 
of  our  nature  to  predominate  over  the  re- 
sentment of  our  nature:  and  as  will  assure 
to  a  believer  the  victory  over  such  urgen- 
cies of  his  constitution  as,  to  the  unrenewed 
hpart,  are  utterly  unconquerable. 

But  to  resume  our  argument,  let  it  be  ob- 
served that  the  kindness  of  God  is  one  of  the 
loveliest,  and  most  estimable  of  the  attri- 
butes which  belong  to  him.  It  is  a  bright 
feature  in  that  assemblage  of  excellencies, 
which  enter  into  the  character  of  the  God- 
head :  and,  as  such,  independently  altogether 
of  this  kindness  being  exercised  upon  me,  I 
should  offer  to  it  the  homage  of  my  moral 
approbation.  But,  should  I  be  the  special 
and  the  signalized  object  of  his  kindness, 
there  is  another  sentiment  towards  God, be- 
side the  love  of  moral  esteem,  that  ought  to 
be  formed  within  me  by  that  circumstance, 
and  which,  in  the  business  of  reasoning, 
should  be  kept  apart  from  it.  There  is  the 
love  of  gratitude.  These  often  go  together, 
and  may  be  felt  simultaneously,  towards 
the  one  being  we  are  employed  in  contem- 
plating. But  they  are  just  as  distinct,  each 
from  the  other,  as  is  the  love  of  moral  es- 
teem from  the  love  of  kindness.  We  trust 
that  we  have  already  convinced  you,  that 
God  feels  towards  us,  his  inferiors,  the  love 


[serm. 


of  kindness,  when  he  cannot,  from  the  na- 
ture of  the  object,  feel  for  us  the  slightest 
degree  of  the  love  of  moral  esteem.  In  the 
same  manner  may  we  feel,  we  are  not  say- 
ing towards  God,  but  towards  an  earthly 
benefactor,  the  love  of  gratitude,  when,  from 
the  nature  of  the  object  we  are  employed 
in  contemplating,  there  is  much  to  impair 
within  us  the  love  of  moral  esteem,  or  to 
extinguish  it  altogether.  Is  it  not  most  na- 
tural to  say  of  the  man,  who  has  been  per- 
sonally benevolent  to  myself,  and  who  has, 
at  the  same  time,  disgraced  himself,  by  his 
vices,  that,  bad  as  he  is,  he  has  been  at  all 
times  remarkably  kind  to  me,  and  felt  many 
a  movement  of  friendship  towards  my  per- 
son, and  done  many  a  deed  of  important 
service  to  my  family,  and  that  I,  at  least, 
owe  him  a  gratitude  for  all  this, — that  I,  at 
least,  should  be  longer  than  others,  of  dis- 
missing from  my  bosom  the  last  remainder 
of  cordiality  towards  him, — that  if,  infamy 
and  poverty  have  followed,  in  the  career  of 
his  wickedness,  and  he  have  become  an 
outcast  from  the  attentions  of  other  men,  it 
is  not  for  me  to  spurn  him  instantly  from 
my  door, — or,  in  the  face  of  my  particular 
recollections,  to  look  unpitying  and  un- 
moved, at  the  wretchedness  into  which  he 
has  fallen. 

It  is  the  more  necessary,  to  distinguish 
the  love  of  gratitude  from  the  love  of  moral 
esteem,  that  each  of  these  affections  may- 
be excited  simultaneously  within  me, by  one 
act  or  by  one  exhibition  of  himself,  on  the 
part  of  the  Deity.  Let  me  be  made  to  un- 
derstand, that  God  has  passed  by  my  trans- 
gression, and  generously  admitted  me  into 
the  privileges  and  the  rewards  of  obe- 
dience,— I  see  in  this  a  tenderness,  and  a 
mercy,  and  a  love,  for  his  creatures,  which, 
if  blended  at  the  same  time  with  all  that  is 
high  and  honourable  in  the  more  august 
attributes  of  his  nature,  have  the  effect  of 
presenting  him  to  my  mind,  and  of  draw- 
ing out  my  heart  in  moral  regard  to  him, 
as  a  most  amiable  and  estimable  object  of 
contemplation.  But  besides  this,  there  is  a 
peculiar  love  of  gratitude,  excited  by  the 
consideration  that  I  am  the  object  of  this 
benignity, — that  I  am  one  of  the  creatures 
to  whom  he  has  directed  this  peculiar  re- 
gard,— that  he  has  singled  out  me,  and  con- 
ceived a  gracious  purpose  towards  me,  and 
in  the  execution  of  this  purpose  is  lavishing 
upon  my  person,  the  blessings  of  a  father's 
care,  and  a  father's  tenderness.  Both  the 
love  of  moral  esteem,  and  the  love  of  grati- 
tude, may  thus  be  in  extemporaneous  op- 
eration within  me;  and  it  will  be  seen  to 
accomplish  a  practical,  as  well  as  a  meta- 
physical purpose,  to  keep  the  one  apart 
from  the  other,  in  the  view  of  the  mind, 
when  love  towards  God  is  the  topic  of  spec- 
ulation which  engages  it. 
But,  farther,  let  it  be  understood,  that  the 


*.J 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


65 


love  of  gratitude  differs  from  the  love  of 
moral  esteem,  not  merely  in  the  cause  which 
immediately  originates  it,  but  also  in  the 
,  object,  in  which  it  finds  its  rest  and  its  grati- 
fication. It  is  the  kindness  of  another  being 
to  myself,  which  originates  within  me  the 
'ove  of  gratitude  towards  him ;  and  it  is  the 
view  of  what  is  morally  estimable  in  this 
being,  that  originates  within  me  all  the  love 
of  moral  esteem,  that  I  entertain  for  him. 
There  is  a  real  distinction  of  cause  between 
these  two  affections,  and  there  is  also  between 
them  a  real  distinction  of  object.  The  love 
of  moral  esteem  finds  its  complacent  grati- 
fication, in  the  act  of  dwelling  contempla- 
tively on  that  Being,  by  whom  it  is  excited ; 
just  as  a  tasteful  enthusiast  inhales  delight 
from  the  act  of  gazing  on  the  charms  of 
some  external  scenery.  The  pleasure  he 
receives,  emanates  directly  upon  his  mind, 
from  the  forms  of  beauty  and  of  loveliness, 
which  are  around  him.  And  if,  instead  of 
a  taste  for  the  beauties  of  nature,  there  ex- 
ists within  him,  a  taste  for  the  beauties  of 
holiness,  then  will  he  love  the  Being,  who 
presents  to  the  eye  of  his  contemplation  the 
fullest  assemblage  of  them,  and  his  taste 
will  find  its  complacent  gratification  in 
dwelling  upon  him,  whether  as  an  object  of 
thought,  or  as  an  object  of  perception.  "  One 
thing  have  I  desired,"  says  the  Psalmist, 
"  that  I  may  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord 
all  the  days  of  my  life,  to  behold  the  beauty 
of  the  Lord,  and  to  inquire  in  his  temple." 
Now,  the  love  of  gratitude  is  distinct  from 
this  in  its  object.  It  is  excited  by  the  love 
of  kindness;  and  the  feeling  which  is  thus 
excited,  is  just  a  feeling  of  kindness  back 
again.  It  is  kindness  begetting  kindness. 
The  language  of  this  affection  is,  "  What 
shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  bene- 
fits ?"  He  has  done  what  is  pleasing  and 
gratifying  to  me.  What  shall  I  do  to  please, 
and  to  gratify  him?  The  love  of  gratitude 
seeks  for  answers  to  this  question,  and  finds 
its  delight  in  acting  upon  them,  and  whether 
the  answer  be, — this  is  the  will  of  God,  even 
your  sanctification, — or,  with  the  sacrifices 
of  liberality  God  is  well  pleased, — or,  obe- 
dience to  parents  is  well  pleasing  in  his 
sight, — these  all  point  out  so  many  lines  of 
conduct,  to  which  the  impulse  of  the  love 
of  gratitude  would  carry  us,  and  attest  this 
to  be  the  love  of  God, — that  ye  keep  his 
commandments. 

^id,  indeed,  when  the  same  Being  com- 
bines, in  his  own  person,  that  which  ought 
to  excite  the  love  of  moral  esteem,  with 
that  which  ought  to  excite  the  love  of  grati- 
tude,— the  two  ingredients,  enter  with  a 
mingled  but  harmonious  concurrence,  into 
the  exercise  of  one  compound  affection.  It 
is  true,  that  the  more  appropriate  offering 
of  the  former  is  the  offering  of  praise, — 
just  as  when  one  looks  to  the  beauties  of 
nature,  he  breaks  out  into  a  rapturous  ac- 


knowledgment of  them ;  and  so  it  may  be, 
when  one  looks  to  the  venerable,  and  the 
lovely  in  the  character  of  God.  The  more 
appropriate  offering  of  the  latter,  is  the  offer- 
ing of  thanksgiving,  or  of  such  services  as 
are  fitted  to  please,  and  to  gratify  a  bene- 
factor. But  still  it  may  be  observed,  how 
each  of  these  simple  affections  tends  to  ex- 
press itself,  by  the  very  act  which  more 
characteristically  marks  the  workings  of 
the  other ;  or,  how  the  more  appropriate 
offering  of  the  first  of  them,  may  be  prompt- 
ed under  the  impulse,  and  movement  of 
the  second  of  them,  and  conversely.  For, 
if  I  love  God  because  of  his  perfections, 
what  principle  can  more  powerfully  or  more 
directly  lead  to  the  imitation  of  them? — 
which  is  the  very  service  that  he  requires 
and  the  very  offering  that  he  is  most 
pleased  with.  And,  if  I  love  God  because 
of  his  goodness  to  me,  what  is  more  fitted 
to  prompt  my  every  exertion,  in  the  way 
of  spreading  the  honours  of  his  character 
and  of  his  name  among  my  fellows, — 
and,  for  this  purpose,  to  magnify  in  their 
hearing  the  glories  and  the  attributes  of  his 
nature  ?  It  is  thus  that  the  voice  of  praise 
and  the  voice  of  gratitude  may  enter  into 
one  song  of  adoration  ;  and  that  whilst  tho 
Psalmist,  at  one  time,  gives  thanks  to  God 
at  the  remembrance  of  his  holiness,  he,  at 
another,  pours  forth  praise  at  the  remem- 
brance of  his  mercies. 

To  have  the  love  of  gratitude  towards 
God,  it  is  essential  that  we  know  and  be- 
lieve his  love  of  kindness  towards  us.  To 
have  the  love  of  moral  esteem  towards  him, 
it  is  essential  that  the  loveliness  of  his  char- 
acter be  in  the  eye  of  the  mind :  or,  in  other 
words,  that  the  mind  keep  itself  in  steady 
and  believing  contemplation  of  the  excel- 
lencies which  belong  to  him.  The  view 
that  we  have  of  God,  is  just  as  much  in  the 
order  of  precedency  to  the  affection  that  we 
entertain  for  him,  as  any  two  successive 
steps  can  be,  in  any  of  the  processes  of  our 
mental  constitution.  To  obtain  the  intro- 
duction of  love  into  the  heart,  there  must, 
as  a  preparatory  circumstance,  be  the  in- 
troduction of  knowledge  into  the  under- 
standing; or,  as  we  can  never  be  said  to 
know  what  we  do  not  believe — ere  we  have 
love,  we  must  have  faith;  and,  accordingly,  in 
the  passage  from  which  our  text  is  extracted, 
do  we  perceive  the  one  pointed  to,  as  the 
instrument  for  the  production  of  the  other. 
"  Keep  yourselves  in  the  love  of  God,  build- 
ing yourselves  up  on  your  most  holy  faith." 

And  here,  it  ought  to  be  remarked,  that  a 
man  may  experience  a  mental  process,  and 
yet  have  no  taste  or  no  understanding  for 
the  explanation  of  it.  The  simple  truths  of 
the  Gospel,  may  enter  with  acceptance  into 
the  mind  of  a  peasant,  and  there  work  all 
the  proper  influences  on  his  heart  and  cha- 
racter, which  the  Bible  ascribes  to  them:  and 


66 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


[si:rm 


yet  he  may  be  utterly  incapable  of  tracing 
that  series  of  inward  movements,  by  which 
he  is  carried  onward  from  a  belief  in  the 
truth,  to  all  those  moral  and  affectionate  re- 
gards, which  mark  a  genuine  disciple  of  the 
truth.  He  may  be  the  actual  subject  of  these 
movements,  though  altogether  unable  to  fol- 
low or  to  analyze  them.  This  is  not  pecu- 
liar to  the  judgments  or  the  feelings  of 
Christianity.  In  the  matters  of  ordinary 
life,  a  man  may  judge  sagaciously,  and  feel 
correctly  while  ardently  ; — and  experience, 
in  right  and  natural  order,  the  play  of  his 
various  faculties,  without  having  it  at  all  in 
his  power,  either  to  frame  or  to  follow  a  true 


theory  of  his  faculties.  It  is  well,  that  the 
simple  preaching  of  the  Gospel  has  its  right 
practical  operation  on  men,  who  make  no 
attempt  whatever,  to  comprehend  the  meta- 
physics of  the  operation.  But,  if  ever 
metaphysics  be  employed  to  darken  the 
freeness  of  the  Gospel  offer,  or  to  dethrone 
faith  from  the  supremacy  which  belongs  to 
it,  or  to  forbid  the  approaches  of  tho^e 
whom  God  has  not  forbidden;  then  must  it 
be  met  upon  its  own  ground,  and  the  real 
character  of  our  beneficent  religion  be  as- 
serted, amid  the  attempts  of  those  who  have 
in  any  way  obscured  or  injured  it  by  their 
illustrations. 


SERMON  X. 

Gratitude,  not  a  sordid  Affection. 

"  We  love  him,  because  he  flm  loved  us." — 1  John  iv.  19. 


Some  theologians  have  exacted  from  an 
inquirer,  at  the  very  outset  of  his  conver- 
sion, that  he  should  carry  in  his  heart  what 
they  call  the  disinterested  love  of  God. 
They  have  set  him  on  the  most  painful  ef- 
forts to  acquire  this  affection, — and  that  too, 
before  he  was  in  circumstances  in  which  it 
was  at  all  possible  to  entertain  it.  They 
have  led  him  to  view  with  suspicion  the 
love  of  gratitude,  as  having  in  it  a  taint  of 
selfishness.  They  are  for  having  him  to 
love  God,  and  that  on  the  single  ground 
that  he  is  lovely,  without  any  reference  to 
his  own  comfort,  or  even  to  his  own  safety. 
Strange  demand  which  they  make  on  a 
sentient  being,  that  even  amidst  the  fears 
and  the  images  of  destruction,  he  should 
find  room  in  his  heart  for  the  love  of  com- 
placency! and  equally  strange  demand  to 
make  on  a  sinful  being,  that  ere  he  admit 
such  a  sense  of  reconciliation  into  his  bo- 
som, as  will  instantly  call  forth  a  grateful 
regard  to  him  who  has  conferred  it,  he 
must  view  God  with  a  disinterested  affec- 
tion ;  that  from  the  deep  and  helpless  abyss 
of  his  depravity,  he  must  find,  unaided,  his 
ascending  way  to  the  purest  and  the  sub- 
limest  emotion  of  moral  nature ;  that  ere 
he  is  delivered  from  fear  he  must  love,  even 
though  it  be  said  of  love,  that  it  casteth  out 
fear  ;  and  that  ere  he  is  placed  on  the  van- 
tage ground  of  the  peace  of  the  Gospel,  he 
must  realize  on  his  character,  one  of  the 
most  exalted  of  its  perfections. 

The  effect  of  all  this  on  many  an  anxious 
seeker  after  rest,  has  been  most  discouraging. 
With  the  stigma  that  has  been  affixed  to  the 
love  of  gratitude,  they  have  been  positively 
apprehensive  of  the  inroads  of  this  affec- 
tion, and  have  studiously  averted  the  eye  of 


their  contemplation  from  the  objects  which 
are  fitted  to  inspire  it.  In  other  words, 
they  have  hesitated  to  entertain  the  free  of- 
fers of  salvation,  and  misinterpreted  all  the 
tokens  of  an  embassy,  which  has  proclaim- 
ed peace  on  earth  and  good  will  to  men. 
They  think  that  all  which  they  can  possi- 
bly gather,  in  the  way  of  affection,  from 
such  a  contemplation,  is  the  love  of  grati- 
tude ;  and  that  gratitude  is  selfishness  ;  and 
that  selfishness  is  not  a  gracious  affection  ; 
and  that  ere  they  be  surely  and  soundly 
converted,  the  love  they  bear  to  God  must 
be  of  a  totally  disinterested  character ;  and 
thus  through  another  medium  than  that  of 
a  free  and  gratuitous  dispensation  of  kind- 
ness, do  they  strive,  by  a  misunderstood 
gospel,  or  without  the  gospel  altogether,  to 
reach  a  peace  and  a  preparation  which  we 
fear,  in  their  way  of  it,  is  to  sinners  utterly 
unattainable. 

In  the  progress  of  this  discourse  let  us 
endeavour,  in  the  first  place,  to  rescue  the 
love  of  gratitude  from  the  imputations 
which  have  been  preferred  against  it, — and 
secondly,  to  assign  to  the  love  of  kindness 
manifested  to  the  world  in  the  gospel,  and 
to  the  faith  by  which  that  love  'i$  made  to 
arise  in  the  heart,  the  place  and  the  pre- 
eminence which  belong  to  them.  £ 

I.  The  proper  object  of  the  love  of  grati- 
tude, is  the  being  who  has  exercised  towards 
me  the  love  of  kindness ;  and  this  is  more 
correct  than  to  say,  that  the  proper  object 
of  this  affection  is  the  being  who  has  con- 
ferred benefits  upon  me.  I  can  conceive 
another  to  load  me  with  benefactions,  and 
at  the  same  time,  to  evince  that  kindness 
towards  me  was  not  the  principle  which 
impelled  him.    It  may  be  done  reluctantly 


x.l 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


67 


at  the  bidding  of  another,  or  it  may  be  done 
to  serve  some  interested  purpose,  or  it  may 
be  done  to  parade  his  generosity  before  the 
eye  of  the  public.  If  it  be  not  done  from 
a  real  principle  of  kindness  to  myself,  I  may 
take  his  gifts,  and  I  may  find  enjoyment  in 
the  use  of  them  ;  but  I  feel  no  gratitude  to- 
wards the  dispenser  of  them.  Unless  I  see 
his  kindness  in  them,  I  will  not  be  grateful. 
It  is  true,  that,  in  point  of  fact,  gratitude 
often  springs  from  the  rendering  of  a  bene- 
fit;  but,  lest  we  should  confound  things 
which  are  different,  let  it  be  well  observed, 
that  this  is  only  when  the  benefit  serves  as 
the  indication  of  a  kind  purpose,  or  of  a 
kind  affection,  on  the  part  of  him  who  hath 
granted  it.  And  this  may  be  proved,  not 
merely  by  showing,  that  there  may  be  no 
gratitude  where  there  is  a  benefit,  but  also 
by  showing,  that  there  may  be  gratitude 
where  there  is  no  material  benefit  what- 
ever. Just  let  the  naked  principle  of  kind- 
ness discover  itself,  and  though  it  have  nei- 
ther the  power,  nor  the  opportunity  of 
coming  forth  with  the  dispensation  of  any 
service,  it  is  striking  to  observe,  how,  upon 
the  bare  existence  of  this  affection  being 
known,  it  is  met  by  a  grateful  feeling,  on 
the  part  of  him  to  whom  it  is  directed;  and 
what  mighty  augmentations  may  be  given 
in  this  way,  to  the  stock  of  enjoyment,  and 
that,  by  the  mere  reciprocation  of  kindness 
begetting  kindness.  For,  to  send  the  expres- 
sion of  this  kindness  into  another's  bosom, 
it  is  not  always  necessary  to  do  it  on  the 
vehicle  of  positive  donation.  It  may  be 
conveyed  by  a  look  of  benevolence;  and 
thus  it  is,  that  by  the  mere  feeling  of  cor- 
diality, a  tide  of  happiness  may  be  made  to 
circulate  throughout  all  the  individuals  of 
an  assembled  company.  Or  it  may  be  done 
by  a  very  slight  and  passing  attention,  and 
thus  it  is,  that  the  cheap  services  of  courte- 
ousness,  may  spread  such  a  charm  over  the 
face  of  a  neighbourhood.  Or  it  may  be  done 
by  the  very  poorest  member  of  human  so- 
ciety; and  thus  it  is,  that  the  ready  and  sin- 
cere homage  of  attachment  from  such  a  man, 
may  beam  a  tru<?r  felicity  upon  me,  and 
call  forth  a  livelier  gratitude  to  him  who 
has  conferred  it,  than  some  splendid  act  of 
patronage  on  the  part  of  a  superior.  Or  it 
may  be  done  by  a  Christian  visiter  in  some 
of  the  humblest  of  our  city  lanes,  who,  without 
one  penny  to  bestow  on  the  children  of  want, 
may  spread  among  them  the  simple  con- 
viction of  her  good  will,  and  call  down  upon 
her  person  the  voice  of  thankfulness  and  of 
blessing  from  all  their  habitations.  And 
thus  it  is,  that  by  good  will  creating  good 
will,  a  pure  and  gladdening  influence  will 
at  length  go  abroad  over  the  face  of  our 
world,  and  mankind  will  be  made  to  know 
the  might  and  the  mystery  of  that  tie  which 
is  to  bind  them  together  into  one  family, 
and  they  will  rejoice  in  the  power  of  that 


secret  charm  which  so  heightens  and  so  mul- 
tiplies the  pleasure  of  all  the  members  of  it ; 
and,  when  transported  from  earth  to  heaven, 
they  will  still  feel,  that  while  it  is  to  the 
benefits  which  God  hath  conferred  that  they 
owe  the  possession  and  all  the  privileges  of 
existence;  it  is  to  a  sense  of  the  love  which 
prompted  these  benefits,  that  they  will  owe 
the  ecstatic  charm  of  their  immortality.  It 
is  the  beaming  kindness  of  God  upon  them, 
that  will  put  their  souls  into  the  liveliest 
transports  of  gratitude  and  joy ;  and  it  is  the 
reciprocation  of  this  kindness  on  the  part  of 
those,  who,  while  they  have  fellowship  with 
the  Father,  and  with  the  Son,  have  fellow- 
ship also  with  one  another,  that  will  cause  the 
joy  of  heaven  to  be  full. 

The  distinction  which  we  are  now  ad- 
verting to,  is  something  more,  than  a  mere 
shadowy  refinement  of  speculation.  It  may 
be  realized  on  the  most  trodden  and  ordi- 
nary path  of  human  experience,  and  is,  in 
fact,  one  of  the  most  familiar  exhibitions  of 
genuine  and  unsophisticated  nature  in  those 
ranks  of  society  where  refinement  is  un- 
known. Let  one  man  go  over  any  given 
district  of  the  city  fully  fraught  with  the 
materiel  of  benevolence;  let  him  be  the 
agent  of  some  munificent  subscription,  and 
with  nothing  in  his  heart  but  just  such 
affections,  and  such  jealousies,  and  such 
thoughtful  anxieties,  about  a  right  and  equi- 
table division,  as  belong  to  the  general  spirit 
of  his  office;  let  him  leave  some  substantial 
deposit  with  each  of  the  families ;  and  then 
compute,  if  he  can,  the  quantity  of  gratitude 
which  he  carries  away  with  him.  It  were 
a  most  unkind  reflection  on  the  lower  orders, 
and  not  more  unkind  than  untrue,  to  deny 
that  there  will  be  the  mingling  of  some 
gratitude,  along  with  the  clamour,  and  the 
envy,  and  the  discontent,  which  are  ever  sure 
to  follow  in  the  train  of  such  a  ministration. 
It  is  not  to  discredit  the  poor,  that  we  intro- 
duce our  present  observation  ;  but  to  bring 
out,  if  possible,  into  broad  and  luminous  ex- 
hibition, one  of  the  finest  sensibilities  which 
adorns  them.  It  is  to  let  you  know  the 
high  cast  of  character  of  which  they  are 
capable;  and  how  the  glow  of  pleasure 
which  arises  in  their  bosoms,  when  the  eye 
of  simple  affection  beams  upon  their  per- 
sons, or  upon  their  habitations,  may  not  have 
one  single  taint  of  sordidness  to  debase  it. 
And  to  prove  this,  just  let  another  man  go 
over  the  same  district,  and  in  the  train  of 
the  former  visitation;  conceive  him  unbacked 
by  any  public  institution,  to  have  nothing  in 
his  hand  that  might  not  be  absorbed  by  the 
needs  of  a  single  family,  but  that,  utterly 
destitute  as  he  is  of  the  materiel,  he  has  a 
heart  charged  and  overflowing  with  the 
whole  morale  of  benevolence.  Just  let  hi  in 
go  forth  among  the  people,  without  one 
other  recommendation  than  an  honest  and 
undissembled  good  will  to  them;  and  let 


68 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


this  good  will  manifest  its  existence,  in  any 
one  of  the  thousand  ways,  by  which  it  may 
be  authenticated ;  and  whether  it  be  by  the 
cordiality  of  his  manners,  or  by  his  sympa- 
thy with  their  griefs,  or  by  the  nameless  at- 
tentions and  offices  of  civility,  or  by  the 
higher  aim  of  that  kindness  which  points  to 
the  welfare  of  their  immortality,  and  evinces 
its  reality  by  its  ready  and  unwearied  ser- 
vices among  the  young,  or  the  sick,  or  the 
dying;  just  let  them  be  satisfied  of  the  one 
fact,  that  he  is  their  friend,  and  that  all  their 
joys  and  all  their  sorrows  are  his  own ;  he 
may  be  struggling  with  hardships  and  ne- 
cessities as  the  poorest  of  them  all ;  but  poor 
as  they  are,  they  know  what  is  in  his  heart, 
and  well  do  they  know  how  to  value  it ;  and 
from  the  voice  of  welcome,  which  meets 
him  in  the  very  humblest  of  their  tenements; 
and  from  the  smile  of  that  heartfelt  enjoy- 
ment, which  his  presence  is  ever  sure  to 
awaken,  and  from  the  influence  of  gracious- 
ness  which  he  carries  along  with  him  into 
every  house,  and  by  which  he  lights  up  an 
honest  emotion  of  thankfulness  in  the  bosom 
of  every  family,  may  we  gather  the  exist- 
ence of  a  power,'  which  worth  alone,  and 
without  the  accompaniment  of  wealth,  can 
bestow ;  a  power  to  sweeten  and  subdue, 
and  tranquillize,  which  no  money  can  pur- 
chase, which  no  patronage  can  create. 

It  will  be  readily  acknowledged  by  all, 
that  the  most  precious  object  in  the  manage- 
ment of  a  town,  is  to  establish  the  reign  of 
happiness  and  contentment  among  those 
who  live  in  it.  And  it  is  interesting  to  mark 
the  operations  of  those,  who,  without  advert- 
ing to  the  principle  that  I  now  insist  upon, 
think  that  all  is  to  be  achieved  by  the  beg- 
garly elements  which  enter  into  the  arith- 
metic of  ordinary  business ;  who  rear  their 
goodly  scheme  upon  the  basis  of  sums  and 
computations ;  and  think  that  by  an  over- 
whelming discharge  of  the  materiel  of  be- 
nevolence, they  will  reach  an  accomplish- 
ment which  the  morale  of  benevolence 
alone  is  equal  to.  We  are  sure  that  it  is  not 
to  mortify  our  men  of  grave,  and  official, 
and  calculating  experience,  that  we  tell 
them,  how,  with  all  their  strength,  and  all 
their  sagacity,  they  have  only  given  their 
money  for  that  which  is  not  meat,  and 
their  labour  for  that  which  satisfieth  not. 
It  is  to  illustrate  a  principle  of  our  common 
nature,  so  obvious,  that  to  be  recognized,  it 
needs  only  to  be  spoken  of.  And  it  were 
well,  if  in  so  doing  their  thoughts  could  be 
led  to  the  instrumentality  of  this  principle, 
as  the  only  way,  in  which  they  can  redeem 
the  failures  of  their  by-gone  experience;  if 
they  could  be  convinced,  that  the  agents  of 
a  zealous  and  affectionate  Christianity  can 
alone  do  what  all  the  influence  of  municipal 
weight  and  municipal  wisdom  cannot  do; 
if  they  could  be  taught  what  the  ministra- 
tions are,  by  which  a  pure  and  a  respond- 


ing gratitude,  may  be  made  to  circulate 
throughout  all  our  dwelling-places ;  if,  in  a 
word,  while  they  profess  to  serve  the  poor, 
they  could  be  led  to  respect  the  poor,  to  do 
homage  to  that  fineness  of  moral  tempera- 
ment which  belongs  to  them,  and  which 
hitherto  seems  to  have  escaped,  altogethei . 
the  eye  of  civil  or  political  superintendence : 
and  they  may  rest  assured,  that  let  them 
give  as  much  in  the  shape  of  munifieence 
as  they  will,  if  they  add  not  the  love  to  the 
liberality  of  the  Gospel,  they  will  never 
soften  one  feature  of  iinkindness,  or  chase 
away  one  exasperated  feeling,  from  the 
hearts  of  a  neglected  population. 

But,  beside  the  degree  of  purity  in  which 
this  principle  may  exist  among  the  most 
destitute  of  our  species,  it  is  also  of  import- 
ance to  mark  the  degree  of  strength,  in 
which  it  actually  exists  among  the  most  de- 
praved of  our  species.  And,  on  this  subject, 
do  we  think  that  the  venerable  Howard 
has  bequeathed  to  us  a  most  striking  and 
valuable  observation.  You  know  the  his- 
tory of  this  man's  enterprises;  how  his  do- 
ings, and  his  observations,  were  among  the 
veriest  outcasts  of  humanity, — how  he  de- 
scended into  prison  houses,  and  there  made 
himself  familiar  with  all  that  could  most 
revolt  or  terrify,  in  the  exhibition  of  our 
fallen  nature ;  how,  for  this  purpose,  he 
made  the  tour  of  Europe ;  but  instead  of 
walking  in  the  footsteps  of  other  travellers, 
he  toiled  his  painful  and  persevering  way 
through  these  receptacles  of  worthlessness ; 
— and,  sound  experimentalist  as  he  was,  did 
he  treasure  up  the  phenomena  of  our  na- 
ture, throughout  all  the  stages  of  misfor- 
tune, or  depravity.  We  may  well  conceive 
the  scenes  of  moral  desolation  that  would 
often  meet  his  eye ;  and  that,  as  he  looked 
to  the  hard,  and  dauntless,  and  defying 
aspect  of  criminality  before  him,  he  would 
sicken  in  despair  of  ever  finding  one  rem- 
nant of  a  purer  and  better  principle,  by 
which  he  might  lay  hold  of  these  unhappy 
men,  and  convert  them  into  the  willing  and 
the  consenting  agents  of  their  own  amelio- 
ration. And  yet  such  a  principle  he  found, 
and  found  it,  as  he  tells  us,  after  years  of 
intercourse,  as  the  fruit  of  his  greater  ex- 
perience, and  his  longer  observation ;  and 
gives,  as  the  result  of  it,  that  convicts,  and 
that  among  the  most  desperate  of  them  all, 
are  not  ungovernable,  and  that  there  is  a 
way  of  managing  even  them,  and  that  the 
way  is,  without  relaxing,  in  one  iota,  from 
the  steadiness  of  a  calm  and  resolute  disci- 
pline, to  treat  them  with  tenderness,  and  to 
show  them  that  you  have  humanity ;  and 
thus  a  principle,  of  itself  so  beautiful,  that 
to  expatiate  upon  it,  gives  in  the  eyes  of 
some,  an  air  of  fantastic  declamation  to  our 
argument,  is  actually  deponed  to,  by  an  aged 
and  most  sagacious  observer.  It  is  the  very 
principle  of  our  text ;  and  it  would  appear 


x-J 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


69 


that  it  keeps  a  lingering  hold  of  our  nature, 
even  in  the  last  and  lowest  degree  of  human 
wickedness ;  and  that  when  abandoned  by 
every  other  principle,  this  may  still  be  de- 
tected,— that  even  among  the  most  hack- 
neyed and  most  hardened  of  malefactors 
there  is  still  about  them  a  softer  part  which 
will  give  way  to  the  demonstrations  of  ten- 
derness :  that  this  one  ingredient  of  a  bet- 
ter character  is  still  found  to  survive  the 
dissipation  of  all  the  others, — that,  fallen  as 
a  brother  may  be,  from  the  moralities  which 
at  one  time  adorned  him,  the  manifested 
good-will  of  his  fellow-man  still  carries  a 
charm  and  an  influence  along  with  it ;  and 
that,  therefore,  there  lies  in  this,  an  opera- 
tion which,  as  no  poverty  can  vitiate,  so  no 
depr  vity  can  extinguish.* 

Now,  this  is  the  very  principle  which  is 
brought  into  action,  in  the  dealings  of  God 
with  a  whole  world  of  malefactors.  It 
looks  as  if  he  confided  the  whole  cause  of 
our  recovery  to  the  influence  of  a  demon- 
stration of  good  will.  It  is  truly  interest- 
ing to  mark,  what,  in  the  devisings  of  his 
unsearchable  wisdom,  is  the  character  which 
he  has  made  to  stand  most  visibly  out,  in 
the  great  scheme  and  history  of  our  re- 
demption :  and  surely  if  there  be  one  fea- 
ture of  prominency  more  visible  than  an- 
other, it  is  the  love  of  kindness.  There 
appears  to  be  no  other  possible  way,  by 
which  a  responding  affection  can  be  depo- 
sited in  the  heart  of  man.  Certain  it  is, 
that  the  law  of  love  cannot  be  carried  to  its 
ascendency  over  us  by  storm.  Authority 
cannot  command  it.  Strength  cannot  im- 
plant it.  Terror  cannot  charm  it  into  ex- 
istence. The  threatenings  of  vengeance 
may  stifle,  or  they  may  repel,  but  they 
never  can  woo  this  delicate  principle  of  our 
nature,  into  a  warm  and  confiding  attach- 
ment. The  human  heart  remains  shut,  in 
all  its  receptacles,  against  the  force  of  these 
various  applications ;  and  God,  who  knew 
what  was  in  man,  seems  to  have  known, 
that  in  his  dark  and  guilty  bosom,  there  was 
but  one  solitary  hold  that  he  had  over  him; 
and  that  to  reach  it,  he  must  just  put  on  a 
look  of  graciousness,  and  tell  us  that  he  has 
no  pleasure  in  our  death,  and  manifest  to- 
wards us  the  longings  of  a  bereaved  parent, 
and  even  humble  himself  to  a  suppliant  in 
the  cause  of  our  return,  and  send  a  Gospel 
of  peace  into  the  world,  and  bid  his  messen- 
gers to  bear  throughout  all  its  habitations, 
the  tidings  of  his  good-will  to  the  children 
of  men.  This  is  the  topic  of  his  most 
anxious  and  repeated  demonstration.  This 
manifested  good  will  of  God  to  his  crea- 
tures, is  the  band  of  love,  and  the  cord 
of  a  man,  by  which  he  draws  them.     It  is 


*  The  operation  of  the  same  principle  has,  of 
late,  been  strikingly  exemplified  by  Mrs.  Fry, 
and  her  coadjutors,  in  the  prison  at  Newgate. 


true,  that  from  the  inaccessible  throne  of 
his  glory,  we  see  no  direct  emanation  of 
his  tenderness  upon  us,  from  this  face  of 
the  King  who  is  invisible.  But,  as  if  to 
make  up  for  this,  he  sent  his  Son  into  the 
world,  and  declared  him  to  be  God  mani- 
fest in  the  flesh,  and  let  us  see,  in  his  tears, 
and  in  his  sympathies,  and  in  all  the  recorded 
traits  of  his  kindness,  and  gentleness,  and 
love,  what  a  God  we  have  to  deal  with.  It 
is  true,  that  even  in  love  to  us,  he  did  not 
let  down  one  attribute  of  truth  or  of  ma- 
jesty which  belonged  to  him.  But,  in  love 
to  us,  he  hath  laid  upon  his  own  Son  the 
burden  of  their  vindication  ; — and  now,  that 
every  obstacle  is  done  away ;  now,  that  the 
barrier  which  lay  across  the  path  of  ac- 
ceptance, is  levelled  by  the  power  of  him 
who  travailed  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength 
for  us ;  now,  that  the  blood  of  atonement 
has  been  shed,  and  that  the  justice  of  God 
has  been  magnified,  and  that  our  iniquities 
have  been  placed  on  the  great  Sacrifice,  and 
so  borne  away  that  there  is  no  more  men- 
tion of  them :  now,  that  with  his  dignity 
entire,  and  his  holiness  untainted,  the  door 
of  heaven  may  be  opened,  and  sinners  be 
called  upon  to  enter  in, — is  the  voice  of  a 
friendly  and  beseeching  God,  lifted  up  with- 
out reserve,  in  the  hearing  of  us  all ; — his 
love  of  kindness  is  published  abroad  among 
men; — and  this  one  mighty  principle  of 
attraction  is  brought  to  bear  upon  a  nature, 
that  might  have  remained  sullen  and  un- 
moved under  every  other  application. 

And,  as  God,  in  the  measure  of  restoring 
a  degenerate  world  unto  himself,  hath  set 
in  operation  the  very  same  principle  as  that 
which  we  have  attempted  to  illustrate, — so 
the  operation  hath  produced  the  very  same 
result  that  we  have  ascribed  to  it.  As  soon 
as  his  love  of  kindness  is  believed,  so  soon 
does  the  love  of  gratitude  spring  up  in  the 
heart  of  the  believer.  As  soon  as  man  gives 
up  his  fear  and  his  suspicion  of  God,  and 
discerns  him  to  be  his  friend,  so  soon  does 
he  render  him  the  homage  of  a  willing  and 
affectionate  loyalty.  There  is  not  a  man 
who  can  say,  I  have  known  and  believed 
the  love  which  God  hath  to  us,  who  cannot 
say  also,  I  have  loved  God  because  he  first 
loved  me.  There  has  not,  we  will  venture 
to  affirm,  been  a  single  example  in  the 
whole  history  of  the  church,  of  a  man  who 
had  a  real  faith  in  the  overtures  of  peace 
and  of  tenderness  which  are  proposed  by 
the  Gospel,  and  who  did  not,  at  the  same 
time,  exemplify  this  attribute  of  the  Christian 
faith,  that  it  worketh  by  love. 

It  is  thus  that  the  faith,  which  recognizes 
God,  as  God  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world 
unto  himself,  lies  at  the  turning  point  of 
conversion.  In  this  way,  and  in  this  way 
alone,  is  there  an  inlet  of  communication 
open  to  the  heart  of  man,  for  that  principle 
of  love  to  God,  which  gives  all  its  power 


70 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


and  all  its  character  to  the  new  obedience 
of  the  gospel.  So  soon  as  a  man  really 
knows  the  truth,  and  no  man  can  be  said  to 
know  what  he  does  not  believe,  will  this 
truth  enthrone  a  new  affection  in  his  bosom, 
which  will  set  him  free  from  the  dominion 
of  all  such  affections  as  are  earthly  and  re- 
bellious. The  whole  style  and  spirit  of  his 
obedience  are  transformed.  The  man  now 
walks  with  the  vigour,  and  the  confidence, 
and  the  enlargement,  of  one  who  is  set  at 
liberty.  It  looks  a  mysterious  revolution 
in  the  general  eye  of  the  world.  But  the 
fact  is,  that  from  the  moment  a  sinner 
closes  with  the  overtures  of  the  gospel, 
from  that  moment  a  new  era  is  established 
in  the  history  of  his  mind  altogether.  As 
soon  as  he  sees  what  he  never  saw  before, 
so  soon  does  he  feel  what  he  never  felt  be- 
fore. Without  the  faith  of  the  gospel  he 
may  serve  God  in  the  spirit  of  bondage : 
he  may  be  driven,  by  the  terrors  of  his  law, 
into  many  outward  and  reluctant  conformi- 
ties ;  he  may  even,  without  the  influence  of 
these  terrors,  maintain  a  thousand  decen- 
cies of  tastes,  and  custom,  and  established 
observation.  But  he  is  still  an  utter  stranger 
to  the  first  and  the  greatest  commandment. 
There  may  be  the  homage  of  many  a  visi- 
ble movement  with  the  body,  while,  in  the 
whole  bent  and  disposition  of  the  soul  there 
is  nothing  but  aversion,  and  distance,  and 
enmity.  Even  the  word  of  the  gospel  may 
be  addressed,  Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  and 
that  too,  to  hearers  who  offer  no  positive 
resistance  to  it. — but  coming  to  them  only 
in  word,  they  remain  as  motionless  and  un- 
impressed as  ever,  and  with  an  utter  dor- 
mancy in  their  hearts  as  to  any  responding 
movement  of  gratitude.  The  heart,  in  fact, 
remains  unapproachable  in  every  other  way, 
but  by  the  gospel  coming  to  it,  not  in  word 
only,  but  in  power,  and  in  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  in  much  assurance.  Then  is  it,  that 
the  love  of  God  is  shed  abroad  in  our  hearts ; 
and  that  the  gospel  approves  itself  to  be  his 
power,  and  his  wisdom,  to  the  sanctification 
of  all  who  believe  in  it. 

Now,  the  theologians  to  whom  we  allude, 
have  set  up  obstacles  in  the  way  of  such  a 
process.  They  hold  a  language  about  the 
disinterested  love  of  God,  and  demand  this 
at  the  very  outset  of  a  man's  conversion,  in 
such  a  way,  as  may  retard  his  entrance 
upon  a  life  of  faith, — as  may  have  prolonged 
the  darkness  of  many  an  inquirer,  and  have 
kept  him  in  a  state  of  despair,  whom  a  right 
understanding  of  the  gospel  would  have 
relieved  of  all  his  doubts,  and  all  his  per- 
plexities. They  seem  to  look  on  the  love 
of  gratitude,  as  having  in  it  a  taint  of  selfish- 
ness. They  say  that  to  love  a  being, 
because  he  is  my  benefactor,  is  little  bet- 
ter than  to  love  the  benefit  which  he  has 
conferred  upon  me ;  and  that  this,  instead 
of  any  evidence  of  a  state  of  grace,  is  the 


mere  effect  of  an  appetite  which  belongs 
essentially  and  universally  to  the  animal 
state  of  nature.  They  appear  to  have  missed 
the  distinction,  between  the  love  that  is  felt 
towards  the  benefit  itself,  and  the  love  of 
gratitude  that  is  felt  towards  the  author  of 
it;  though  certainly  there  are  here  two  ob- 
jects of  affection  altogether  distinct  from 
each  other. 

My  liking  for  the  gift  is  a  different  phase 
of  mind  from  my  liking  for  the  giver.  In 
the  one  exercise,  I  am  looking  to  a  different 
object,  and  my  thoughts  have  a  different 
employment,  from  what  they  have  in  the 
other.  Had  I  an  affection  for  the  gift,  without 
an  affection  for  the  giver,  then  might  I  evince 
an  unmixed  selfishness  of  character.  But  I 
may  have  both ;  and  my  affection  for  the 
giver  may  be  purely  in  obedience  to  that 
law  of  reciprocity,  whereby  if  another  likes 
me,  I  am  disposed  by  that  circumstance, 
and  by  that  alone,  to  like  him  back  again. 
The  gift  may  serve  merely  the  purpose  of 
an  indication.  It  is  the  medium  through 
which  I  perceive  the  love  that  another  bears 
me.  But  it  is  possible  for  me  to  perceive 
this  through  another  medium,  and,  in  this 
case,  the  rising  gratitude  of  my  bosom  might 
look  a  purer  and  more  disinterested  emotion. 
But  the  truth  is,  that  it  retains  the  very  same 
character,  though  a  gift  has  been  the  occa- 
sion of  its  excitement, — and,  therefore,  it 
ought  not  to  have  been  so  assimilated  to  the 
principle  of  selfishness.  It  ought  not  to 
have  been  so  discouraged,  and  made  the 
object  of  suspicion,  at  that  moment  of  its 
evolution,  when  the  returning  sinner  looks 
by  faith  to  the  truths  and  the  promises  of 
the  gospel,  and  sees  in  them  the  tenderness 
of  an  inviting  God.  It  ought  not  to  have 
been  so  stigmatized,  as  a  mere  portion  of 
his  unrenewed  nature ;  for,  in  truth,  it  will 
heighten  and  grow  upon  him,  with  every 
step  in  the  advancement  of  his  moral  re- 
novation. It  will  be  one  of  the  gracefullest 
of  his  accomplishments  in  this  world  ;  and 
so  far  from  being  extinguished  in  the  next, 
along  with  the  baser  and  more  selfish  affec- 
tions of  our  constitution,  it  will  pour  an  ani- 
mating spirit  into  many  a  song  of  ecstacy, 
to  him  who  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from 
our  sins  in  his  own  blood.  The  law  of  love 
begetting  love,  will  obtain  in  eternity.  Like 
the  law  of  reciprocal  attraction  in  the  ma- 
terial world,  it  will  cement  the  immutable 
and  everlasting  order  of  that  moral  system, 
which  is  to  emerge  with  the  new  heavens 
and  the  new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righ- 
teousness. The  love  which  emanates  from 
the  throne  of  God,  upon  his  surrounding 
family,  will  call  back  a  voice  of  blessing, 
and  thanksgiving,  and  glory,  from  all  the 
members  of  it.  And  the  love  which  his 
children  bear  to  each  other,  will,  in  like 
manner,  be  reflected  and  multiplied.  All 
that  is  wrong  in  selfisnness  will  be  there 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


*] 


unknown.  But  gratitude,  so  far  from  being 
counted  an  unseemly  companion  for  para- 
dise, will  be  one  chief  ingredient  in  the 
fulness  of  its  joy ;  one  of  the  purest  and 
most  exquisite  of  those  pleasures  which  are 
for  evermore. 

The  first  consideration,  then,  upon  which 
we  would  elevate  gratitude  to  the  rank  of  a 
virtue,  is,  that  in  its  object,  it  is  altogether 
distinct  from  selfishness.  It  is  enough,  in- 
deed, to  dissolve  the  imagination  of  any 
kindred  character  between  selfishness  and 
gratitude,  that  the  man  without  selfishness, 
seems  to  the  eye  of  a  beholder,  as  standing 
on  a  lofty  eminence  of  virtue.  The  man 
without  gratitude,  is  held,  by  all,  to  be  a 
monster  of  deformity.  Give  me  a  man  who 
seizes  with  ravenous  appropriation  all  that 
I  have  to  bestow, — and  who  hoards  it,  or 
feeds  upon  it,  or,  in  any  way  rejoices  over 
it,  without  one  grateful  movement  of  his 
heart  towards  me, — and  you  lay  before  me 
a  character,  not  merely  unlike,  but  diametri- 
cally opposite,  to  the  character  of  him  who 
obtains  the  very  same  gift,  and,  perhaps,  de- 
rives from  the  use  of  it,  an  equal,  or  a  greater 
degree  of  enjoyment,  to  the  sensitive  part 
of  his  nature, — but  who,  in  addition  to  all 
this,  has  thought,  and  affection,  and  the 
higher  principles  of  his  nature,  excited  by 
the  consideration  of  the  giver ;  and  looks  to 
the  manifested  love  that  appears  in  this  act 
of  generosity;  and  is  touched  with  love 
back  again ;  and,  under  the  influence  of  this 
responding  affection,  conceives  the  kindest 
wishes,  and  pours  out  the  warmest  prayers, 
for  the  interest  of  his  benefactor,  and  shows 
him  all  the  symptoms  of  friendship,  and 
surrounds  him  with  all  its  services. 

The  second  consideration  upon  which  we 
would  elevate  gratitude  to  the  rank  of  a 
pure  virtue,  has  already  been  glanced  at. 
Were  it  not  a  virtue,  it  would  have  no  place 
in  heaven.  Did  it  only  appertain  to  the  un- 
renewed part  of  our  nature,  it  would  find 
no  admittance  among  the  saints  in  paradise. 
But  one  of  the  songs  of  the  redeemed,  is  a 
song  of  gratitude. 

And,  thirdly,  by  looking  more  closely  to 
this  affection,  both  in  its  origin  and  in  its 
exercises,  we  shall  perceive  in  it,  more 
clearly,  all  the  characteristics  of  virtue. 

Let  it  be  remarked,  then,  that  an  affection 
may  simply  exist,  and  yet  be  no  evidence 
of  any  virtue,  or  of  any  moral  worth  in  the 
holder  of  it.  I  may  look  on  a  beautiful 
prospect,  and  be  drawn  out  to  an  invo- 
luntary sentiment  of  admiration.  Or,  I  may 
iook  on  my  infant  child,  and  without  one 
effort  of  volition,  feel  a  parental  tenderness 
towards  it.  Or,  I  may  be  present  at  a  scene 
of  distress,  and  without  choosing  or  willing 
to  be  so,  I  may  be  moved  to  the  softest  com- 
passion. And,  in  this  way,  I  may  have  a 
character  made  up  of  many  affections,  some 
of  which  are  tasteful,  some  of  which  are 


71 


most  amiable  in  themselves,  and  some  of 
which  are  most  useful  to  society  and  yet 
none  of  which  may  possess  the  smallest 
portion  of  the  essential  character  of  virtue. 
They  may  be  brought  into  exercise  without 
any  working  of  a  sense  of  duty  whatever. 
One  of  those  we  have  specified — the  instinc- 
tive affection  of  parents  for  their  young,  is 
exemplified  in  all  its  strength,  and  in  all  its 
tenderness,  by  the  inferior  animals.  And, 
therefore,  if  we  want  to  know  what  that  is 
which  constitutes  the  character  of  virtue,  or 
moral  worth,  in  a  human  being,  we  must 
look  to  something  else,  than  to  the  mere 
existence  of  certain  affections,  however  val- 
uable they  may  prove  to  others,  or  whatever 
gracefulness  they  may  shed  over  the  com- 
plexion of  him  who  possesses  them. 

Now,  it  would  be  raising  a  collateral  into 
a  main  topic,  were  we  to  enter  upon  a  full 
explanation  of  the  matter  that  has  now  been 
suggested.  And  we  shall,  therefore,  briefly 
remark,  that  to  give  the  character  of  virtue 
to  any  grace  of  the  inner  man,  the  will, 
acting  under  a  sense  of  duty,  must,  in  some 
way  or  other,  have  been  concerned  in  the 
establishment,  or  in  the  continuance  of  it ; 
and  that  to  give  the  same  character  of  virtue  to 
a  deed  of  the  outer  man,  the  will  must  also 
be  concerned.  A  deed  is  only  virtuous  in 
as  far  as  it  is  voluntary;  and  it  is  only  in 
proportion  to  the  share  which  the  will  has 
in  the  performance  of  it,  and  the  will  im- 
pelling us  to  do,  what  we  are  persuaded 
ought  to  be  done,  that  there  can  be  awarded, 
to  the  deed  in  question,  any  character  of 
moral  estimation. 

This  will  explain  what  the  circumstances 
are,  under  which  the  gratitude  of  a  human 
being  may  at  one  time  be  an  instinct,  and 
at  another  time  a  virtue.  I  may  enter  the 
house  of  an  individual  who  is  an  utter 
stranger  to  the  habit  of  acting  under  a  sense 
of  duty  ;  who  is  just  as  much  the  creature 
of  mere  impulse,  as  the  animals  beneath 
him ;  and  who,  therefore,  though  some  of 
these  impulses  are  more  characteristic  of 
his  condition  as  a  man,  and  most  subser- 
vient to  the  good  of  his  fellows,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  possessing  no  virtue  whatever, 
in  the  strict  and  proper  sense  of  the  term. 
But  he  has  the  property  of  being  affected 
by  external  causes.  And  I,  by  some  mi- 
nistration of  friendship,  may  flash  upon  his 
mind  such  an  overpowering  conviction  of 
the  good  will  that  I  bear  him,  as  to  affect 
him  with  a  sense  of  gratitude  even  unto 
tears.  The  moral  obligation  of  gratitude 
may  not  be  present  to  his  mind  at  all.  Bui 
the  emotion  of  gratitude  comes  into  his 
heart  unbidden,  and  finds  its  vent  in  ac- 
knowledgments, and  blessings,  on  the  per- 
son of  his  benefactor.  We  would  say,  of 
such  a  person,  that  he  possesses  a  happier 
original  constitution  than  another,  who,  in 
the  same  circumstances,  would  not  be  so 


72 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM 


powerfully  or  so  tenderly  affected.  And 
yet  he  may  have  hitherto  evinced  nothing 
more  than  the  workings  of  a  mere  instinct, 
which  springs  spontaneously  within  him, 
and  gives  its  own  impulse  to  his  words  and 
his  performances,  without  a  sense  of  duty 
having  any  share  in  the  matter,  or  without 
the  will  prompting  the  individual  by  any 
such  consideration,  as,  let  me  do  this  thing 
because  I  ought  to  do  it. 

Let  us  now  conceive  the  moral  sense  to 
be  admitted  to  its  share  of  influence  over 
this  proceeding.  Let  it  be  consulted  on  the 
question  of  what  ought  to  be  felt,  and  what 
ought  to  be  done,  by  one  being,  when  an- 
other evinces  the  love  of  kindness  towards 
him.  A  mere  instinct  may,  in  point  of  fact, 
draw  out  a  return  of  love  and  of  service 
back  again.  But  it  is  the  province  of  the 
moral  sense  to  pronounce  on  the  point  of 
obligation,  and  we  speak  its  universal  sug- 
gestion, when  we  say,  that  the  love  of  grati- 
tude ought  to  be  felt,  and  the  services  of 
gratitude  ought  to  be  rendered. 

Now,  to  make  this  decision  of  the  moral 
sense  practically  effectual,  and,  indeed,  to 
make  the  moral  sense  have  any  thing  to  do 
with  this  question  at  all,  the  feeling  of  grati- 
tude must,  in  some  way  or  other,  be  de- 
pendent either  for  its  existence,  or  its 
growth,  or  its  continuance,  upon  the  will ; 
and  the  same  will  must  also  have  a  com- 
mand over  the  services  of  gratitude.  The 
moral  sense,  in  fact,  never  interposes  with 
any  dictate,  or  with  any  declaration  about 
the  feelings,  or  the  conduct  of  man,  unless 
in  so  far  as  the  will  of  man  has  an  influ- 
ence, and  a  power  of  regulation  over  them. 
It  never  makes  the  rate  of  the  circulation 
of  the  blood  a  question  of  duty,  because 
this  is  altogether  an  involuntary  move- 
ment. And  it  never  would  have  offered  any 
authoritative  intimation,  about  the  way  in 
which  gratitude  ought  to  be  felt,  or  ought 
to  be  expressed,  unless  the  will  had  had 
some  kind  of  presiding  sovereignty  over 
both  the  degree  and  the  workings  of  this 
affection. 

The  first  way,  then,  in  which  the  will 
may  have  to  do  with  the  love  of  gratitude, 
is  by  the  putting  forth  of  a  desire  for  the  pos- 
session of  it.  It  may  long  to  realize  this  moral 
accomplishment.  It  may  hunger  and  thirst 
after  this  branch  of  righteousness.  Even 
though  it  has  not  any  such  power  under  its 
command  as  would  enable  it  to  fulfil  such 
a  volition,  the  volition  itself  has,  upon  it, 
the  stamp  and  the  character  of  virtue.  The 
man  who  habitually  wills  to  have  in  his 
heart  a  love  of  gratitude  towards  God,  is  a 
man  at  least  of  holy  desires,  if  not  of  holy 
attainments.  And,  when  we  consider  that 
a  way  has  actually  been  established,  in 
which  the  desire  may  be  followed  up  by 
the  attainment, — when  we  read  of  the  pro- 
mise given  to  those  who  seek  after  God, — 


when  we  learn  the  assurance  that  he  will 
grant  the  heart's  desire  of  those  who  will 
stir  themselves  up  to  lay  hold  of  him, — 
when  we  think  that  prayer  is  the  natural 
expression  of  desire  for  an  object  which 
man  cannot  reach,  but  which  God  is  both 
able  and  willing  to  confer  upon  him, — then 
do  we  see  how  the  very  existence  of  the 
love  of  gratitude  may  have  had  its  pure  and 
holy  commencement,  in  such  a  habitude  of 
the  will  as  has  the  essential  character  of 
virtue  engraven  upon  it.  "  Keep  your- 
selves," says  the  Apostle,  "  in  the  love  of 
God,  by  praying  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 

But,  again,  there  are  certain  doings  of 
the  mind,  over  which  the  will  has  a  control, 
and  by  which  the  affection  of  gratitude 
may  either  be  brought  into  being,  or  be  sus- 
tained in  lively  and  persevering  exercise. 
At  the  bidding  of  the  will,  I  can  think  of 
one  topic,  rather  than  of  another.  I  can 
transfer  my  mind  to  any  given  object  of- 
contemplation.  I  can  keep  that  object  stea- 
dily in  view,  and  make  an  effort  to  do  so, 
when  placed  in  such  circumstances  as  might 
lead  me  to  distraction  or  forget  fulness.  And 
it  is  in  this  way  that  moral  praise  or  moral 
responsibility,  may  be  attached  to  the  love 
of  gratitude.  Ere  the  heart  can  be  moved 
by  this  affection  to  another,  there  must  be 
in  the  mind  a  certain  appropriate  object, 
that  is  fitted  to  call  it,  and  to  keep  it  in  ex- 
istence,— and  that  object  is  the  love  of  kind- 
ness which  the  other  bears  me.  I  may  en- 
deavour, and  I  may  succeed  in  the  endea- 
vour, to  hold  this  love  of  kindness  in  daily 
and  perpetual  remembrance.  If  the  will 
have  to  do  with  the  exercises  of  thought 
and  memory,  then  the  will  may  be  respon- 
sible for  the  gratitude  that  would  spring  in 
my  bosom,  did  I  only  think  of  the  love  of 
God,  and  that  would  continue  with  me  in 
the  shape  of  an  habitual  affection,  did  I  only 
keep  that  love  in  habitual  remembrance.  It 
is  thus  that  the  forgetfulness  of  God  is 
chargeable  with  criminality, — and  it  will 
appeajj  a  righteous  thing  in  the  day  of  judg- 
ment, when  they,  who  are  thus  forgetful  of 
him,  shall  be  turned  into  hell.  It  is  this 
which  arms,  with  such  a  moral  and  condem- 
natory force,  the  expostulation  he  holds  with 
Israel,  "  that  Israel  doth  not  know,  that  my 
people  do  not  consider."  It  is  because  we 
like  not  to  retain  God  in  our  knowledge, 
that  our  minds  become  reprobate ; — and, 
on'the  other  hand,  it  is  by  a  continuous  effort 
of  my  will,  towards  the  thought  of  him, 
that  I  forget  not  his  benefits.  It  is  by  the 
strenuousness  of  a  voluntary  act,  that  I  con- 
nect the  idea  of  an  unseen  benefactor,  with 
all  the  blessings  of  my  present  lot,  and  all 
th  '  anticipations  of  my  futurity.  It  is  by  a 
combat  with  the  most  urgent  propensities 
of  nature,  that  I  am  ever  looking  beyond 
this  surrounding  materialism,  and  setting 
God  and  his  love  before  me  all  the  day  long 


*•] 


There  is  no  virtue,  it  is  allowed,  without 
voluntary  exertion  ;  but  this  is  the  very 
character  which  runs  throughout  the  whole 
work  and  exercise  of  faith.  To  keep  him- 
self in  the  love  of  God  is  a  habit,  with  the 
maintenance  of  which  the  will  of  man  has 
most  essentially  to  do,  because  it  is  at  his 
will  that  he  keeps  himself  in  the  thought  of 
God's  love  towards  him.  To  bid  away  from 
me  such  intrusions  of  sense,  and  of  time, 
as  would  shut  God  out  of  my  recollections  ; 
to  keep  alive  the  impression  of  him  in  the 
midst  of  bustle,  and  company,  and  worldly 
avocations ;  to  recall  the  thought  of  him  and 
of  his  kindness,  under  crosses,  and  vexa- 
tions, and  annoyances;  to  be  still,  and  know 
that  he  is  God,  even  when  beset  with  tempt- 
tations  to  impatience  and  discontent ;  never  to 
loose  sight  of  him  as  merciful  and  gracious; 
and  above  all,  never  to  let  go  my  hold  of  that 
great  Propitiation,  by  which  in  every  time  of 
trouble,  I  have  the  privilege  of  access  with 
confidence  to  my  reconciled  Father;  these  are 
all  so  many  acts  of  faith,  but  they  are  just 
such  acts  as  the  will  bears  a  share,  and  a 
sovereignity,  in  the  performance  of.  And, 
as  they  are  the  very  acts  which  go  to  ali- 
ment and  to  sustain  the  love  of  gratitude 
within  me,  it  may  be  seen,  how  an  affection 
which,  in  the  first  instance,  may  spring  in- 
voluntarily, and  be  therefore  regarded  as  a 
mere  instinct  of  nature,  or  as  bearing  upon 
it  a  complexion  of  selfishness,  may,  in  an- 
other view,  have  upon  it  a  complexion  of 
deepest  sacredness,  and  be  rendered  unto 
God  in  the  shape  of  a  duteous  and  devoted 
offering  from  a  voluntary  agent,  and  be,  in 
fact,  the  laborious  result  of  a  most  difficult, 
and  persevering,  and  pains-taking  habit  of 
obedience. 

And  if  this  be  true  of  the  mere  sense  of 
gratitude,  it  is  still  more  obviously  true  of 
the  services  of  gratitude.  "What  shall  I 
render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits?" 
is  the  genuine  language  of  this  affection.  It 
seeks  to  make  a  gratifying  return  of  service, 
and  that,  under  the  feeling  that  it  ought  to 
do  so.  Or,  in  other  words,  do  we  behold 
that  it  is  the  will  of  man,  prompted  by  a 
sense  of  duty,  which  leads  him  on  to  the 
obedience  of  gratitude,  and  that  the  whole  of 
this  obedience  is  pervaded  by  the  essential 
character  of  virtue.  This  is  the  love  of 
God,  that  ye  keep  his  commandments. 
This  is  the  most  gratifying  return  unto  him, 
that  ye  do  those  things  which  are  pleasing 
in  his  sight.  And  thus  it  is,  that  the  love  of 
gratitude!  may  be  vindicated  in  its  character 
of  moral  worth,  from  its  first  commence- 
ment in  the  heart  to  its  ultimate  effect  on 
the  walk  and  conversation.-  It  is  originally 
distinct  from  selfishness  in  its  object ;  and 
it  derives  a  virtuousness  at  its  very  outset, 
from  the  aspirations  of  a  soul  bent  on  the 
acquirement  of  it,  because  bent  on  being 
what  it  ought  to  be ;  and  it  is  sustained,  both 
10 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


73 


in  life  and  in  exercise,  by  such  habits  oi 
thought  as  are  of  voluntary  cultivation ;  and 
it  nobly  sustains  an  aspect  of  moral  righ- 
teousness onwards  to  the  final  result  of  its 
operation  on  the  character,  by  setting  him 
who  is  under  its  power,  on  a  career  of  obe- 
dience to  God,  and  introducing  him  to  an 
arduous  contest  of  principle,  with  all  the 
influences  of  sense  and  of  the  world. 

If,  to  render  an  affection  virtuous,  the 
will  acting  under  a  sense  of  duty,  should  be 
concerned  either  in  producing  or  in  per- 
petuating it ;  then  the  love  of  moral  esteem 
coming  into  the  heart,  as  an  involutar^ 
sensation,  may,  in  certain  circumstances, 
have  as  little  of  the  character  of  virtue  as 
the  love  of  gratitude.  In  ttiis  respect,  both 
these  affections  are  upon  a  footing  with 
each  other ;  and  the  first  ought  not  to 
have  been  exalted  at  the  expense  of  the  se- 
cond. That  either  be  upheld  within  us  in 
our  present  state,  there  must,  in  fact,  be  the 
putting  forth  of  the  same  voluntary  control 
over  the  thoughts  and  contemplations  of 
the  understanding ;  the  same  active  exer- 
cise of  faith ;  the  same  laborious  resistance 
to  all  those  urgencies  of  sense  which  would 
expel  from  the  mind  the  idea  of  an  unseen 
and  spiritual  object ;  the  same  remembrance 
of  God  sustained  by  effort,  and  prayer,  and 
meditation. 

II.  We  now  feel  ourselves  in  a  condition 
to  speak  of  the  Gospel,  in  its  free  and  gra- 
tuitous character ;  to  propose  its  blessings 
as  a  gift;  to  hold  out  the  pardon,  and  the 
strength,  and  all  the  other  privileges  whicli 
it  proclaims  to  believers,  as  so  many  articles 
for  their  immediate  acceptance ;  to  make  it 
known  to  men  that  they  are  not  to  delay 
their  compliance  with  the  overtures  of 
mercy,  till  the  disinterested  love  of  God 
arises  in  their  hearts ;  but  that  they  have  a 
warrant  for  entering  even  now,  into  instant 
reconciliation  with  God.  Nor  are  we  to 
dread  the  approach  of  any  moral  contami- 
nation, though  when,  after  their  eyes  are 
opened  to  the  marvellous  spectacle  of  a  plead- 
ing, and  offering,  and  beseeching  God,  hold- 
ing out  eternal  life  unto  the  guiky,  through 
the  propitiation  which  his  own  Son  hath 
made  for  them,  they  should,  from  that  mo- 
ment, open  their  whole  soul,  to  the  influ- 
ences of  gratitude,  and  love  the  God  who 
thus  hath  first  loved  them. 

We  conclude  then  with  remarking,  that 
the  whole  of  this  argument  gives  us  another 
view  of  the  importance  of  faith.  We  do  not 
say  all  for  it  that  we  ought,  when  we  say 
that  by  faith  we  are  justified  in  the  sight  of 
God.  By  faith  also  our  hearts  are  purified. 
It  is  in  fact  the  primary  and  the  presiding 
principle  of  regeneration.  It  brings  the 
heart  into  contact  with  that  influence  by 
which  the  love  of  gratitude  is  awakened. 
The  love  of  God  to  us,  if  it  is  not  believed, 
will  exert  no  more  power  over  our  affections 


74 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


[SERM. 


than  if  it  were  a  nonentity.  They  are 
the  preachers  of  faith,  then,  who  alone  deal 
out  to  their  hearers,  the  elementary  and 
pervading  spirit  of  the  Christian  morality. 
And  the  men  who  have  been  stigmatized  as 
the  enemies  of  good  works,  are  the  very 
men  who  are  most  sedulously  employed  in 
depositing  within  you,  that  good  seed  which 
has  its  fruit  unto  holiness.  We  are  far  from 
asserting,  that  the  agency  of  grace  is  not 
concerned,  in  every  step  of  that  process,  by 
which  a  sinner  is  conducted  from  the  outset 
of  his  conversion  to  the  state  of  being  per- 
fect, and  complete  in  the  whole  will  of  God. 
But  there  is  a  harmony  between  the  pro- 
cesses of  grace  and  of  nature ;  and  in  the 
same  manner,  as  in  human  society,  the  ac- 
tual conviction  of  a  neighbour's  good-will 
to  me,  takes  the  precedency  in  point  of  or- 
der of  any  returning  movement  of  gratitude 
on  my  part;  so,  in  the  great  concerns  of  our 
fellowship  with  God,  my  belief  that  he  loves 
me,  is  an  event  prior  and  preparatory  to 
the  event  of  my  loving  him.  So  that  the 
primary  obstacle  to  the  love  of  God  is  not 
the  want  of  human  gratitude,  but  the  want 
of  human  faith. 

The  reason  why  man  is  not  excited  to 
the  love  of  God  by  the  revelation  of  God's 
love  to  him,  is  just  because  he  does  not  be- 
lieve that  revelation.  This  is  the  barrier 
which  lies  between  the  guilty  and  their  of- 
fended Lawgiver.  It  is  not  the  ingratitude 
of  man,  but  the  incredulity  of  man,  that 
needs,  in  the  first  instance,  to  be  overcome. 
It  is  the  sullenness,  and  the  hardness,  and 
the  obstinacy  of  unbelief  which  stands  as  a 
gate  of  iron,  between  him  and  his  enlarge- 
ment. Could  the  kindness  of  God,  in  Christ 
Jesus,  be  seen  by  him,  the  softening  of  a 
kindness  back  again,  would  be  felt  by  him. 
And  let  us  cease  to  wonder,  then,  at  the 
preachers  of  the  gospel,  when  they  lay  upon 
belief  all  the  stress  of  a  fundamental  opera- 
tion;— when  they  lavish  so  much  of  their 
strength  on  the  establishment  of  a  principle, 
which  is  not  only  initial,  but  indispensable ; 
when  they  try  so  strenuously  to  charm  that 
into  existence,  without  which  all  the  ele- 
ments of  a  spiritual  obedience  are  in  a  state 
of  dormancy  or  of  death ; — when  they  la- 
bour at  the  only  practicable  way  by  which 
the  heart  of  a  sinner  can  be  touched,  and 
attracted  towards  God  ; — when  they  try  so 
repeatedly  to  hold  and  to  fasten  him  by 
that  link  which  God  himself  hath  put  into 
their  hands — and  bring  the  mighty  princi- 


ple to  bear  upon  their  hearers,  which  any 
one  of  us  may  exemplify  upon  the  poorest, 
and  by  which  both  Howard  and  Fry  have 
tried  with  success,  to  soften  and  to  reclaim 
the  most  worthless  of  mankind. 

This  also  suggests  a  practical  direction  to 
Christians,  for  keeping  themselves  in  the 
love  of  God.  They  must  keep  themselves 
in  the  habit,  and  in  the  exercise  of  faith 
They  must  hold  fast  that  conviction  in  their 
minds,  the  presence  of  which  is  indispensa- 
ble to  the  keeping  of  that  affection  in  their 
hearts.  This  is  one  of  the  methods  recom- 
mended by  the  Apostle  Jude,  when  he  tells 
his  disciples  to  build  themselves  up  on  their 
most  holy  faith.  This  direction  to  you  is 
both  intelligible  and  practicable.  Keep  in 
view  the  truths  which  you  have  learned. 
Cherish  that  belief  of  them  which  you 
already  possess.  Recall  them  to  your 
thoughts,  and,  in  general,  they  will  not 
come  alone,  but  they  will  come  accompa- 
nied by  their  own  power,  and  their  own 
evidence.  You  may  as  well  think  of  main- 
taining a  steadfast  attachment  to  your 
friend,  after  you  have  expunged  from  your 
memory  all  the  demonstrations  of  kindness 
he  ever  bestowed  upon  you,  as  think  of 
keeping  your  heart  in  the  love  of  God, 
after  the  thoughts  and  contemplations  of 
the  gospel  have  fled  from  it.  It  is  just  by 
holding  these  fast,  and  by  building  yourself 
up  on  their  firm  certainty,  that  you  preserve 
this  affection.  Any  man,  versant  in  the 
matters  of  experimental  religion,  knows 
well  what  it  is  when  a  blight  and  a  barren- 
ness come  over  the  mind,  and  when,  under 
the  power  of  such  a  visitation,  it  loses  all  sen- 
sibility towards  God.  There  is  at  that  time 
a  hiding  of  his  countenance,  and  you  lose 
your  hold  of  the  manifestation  of  that  love 
wherewith  God  loved  the  world,  even  when 
he  sent  his  only  begotten  Son  into  it,  that 
we  might  live  through  him.  You  will  re- 
cover a  right  frame,  when  you  recover  your 
hold  of  this  consideration.  If  you  want  to 
recall  the  strayed  affection  to  your  heart — 
recall  to  your  mind  the  departed  object  of 
contemplation.  If  you  want  to  reinstate 
the  principle  of  love  in  your  bosom — rein- 
state faith,  and  it  will  work  by  love.  It  is 
got  at  through  the  medium  of  believing,  and 
trusting; — nor  do  Ave  know  a  more  sum- 
mary, and,  at  the  same  time,  a  more  likely 
direction  for  living  a  life  of  holy  and  hea- 
venly affection,  than  that  you  should  live  a 
life  of  faith. 


M.1 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


75 


SERMON  XI. 

The  Affection  of  Moral  Esteem  towards  God. 

"  One  thing  have  I  desired  of  the  Lord,  that  will  I  seek  after ;  that  I  may  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  all 
the  days  of  my  life,  to  behold  the  beauty  of  the  Lord,  and  to  inquire  in  his  temple."—  Psalm  xxvii.  4. 


In  our  last  discourse  we  adverted  to  the 
effect  of  a  certain  theological  speculation 
about  love,  in  darkening  the  freeness  of  the 
gospel,  and  intercepting  the  direct  influence 
of  its  overtures  and  its  calls  on  the  mind  of 
an  inquirer.  Ere  we  can  conceive  the  love 
of  gratitude  towards  another,  we  must  see 
in  him  the  love  of  kindness  towards  us ;  and 
thus,  by  those  who  have  failed  to  distinguish 
between  a  love  of  the  benefit,  and  a  love  of 
the  benefactor,  has  the  virtue  of  gratitude 
been  resolved  into  the  love  of  ourselves. 
And  they  have  thought  that  there  must 
surely  be  a  purer  affection  than  this,  to 
mark  the  outset  of  the  great  transition  from 
sin  unto  righteousness ;  and  the  one  they 
have  specified  is  the  disinterested  love  of 
God.  They  have  given  to  this  last  affection 
a  place  so  early,  as  to  distract  the  attention 
of  an  inquirer  from  that  which  is  primary. 
The  invitation  of  "  come  and  buy  without 
money,  and  without  price,"  is  not  heard  by 
the  sinner  along  with  the  exaction  of  loving 
God  for  himself, — of  loving  him  on  account 
of  his  excellences, — of  loving  him  because 
he  is  lovely.  Let  us,  therefore,  try  to  ascer- 
tain whether  even  this  love  of  moral  esteem 
is  not  subordinate  to  the  faith  of  the  gospel ; 
and  whether  it  follows,  that  because  this  af- 
fection forms  so  indispensable  a  part  of 
godliness,  faith  should,  on  that  account,  be 
deposed  from  the  place  of  antecedency 
which  belongs  to  it. 

And  here  let  it  be  most  readily  and  most 
abundantly  conceded,  that  we  are  not  per- 
fect and  complete  in  the  whole  of  God's 
will,  till  the  love  of  moral  esteem  be  in  us, 
as  well  as  the  love  of  gratitude, — till  that 
principle,  of  which,  by  nature,  we  are  ut- 
terly destitute,  be  made  to  arise  in  our 
hearts,  and  to  have  there  a  thorough  esta- 
blishment, and  operation, — till  we  love  God, 
not  merely  on  account  of  his  love  to  our 
persons,  but  on  account  of  the  glory,  and 
the  residing  excellence,  which  meet  the  eye 
of  the  spiritual  beholder,  upon  his  own  cha- 
racter. We  are  not  preparing  for  heaven, — 
we  shali  be  utterly  incapable  of  sharing  in 
the  noblest  of  its  enjoyments, — we  shall  not 
feel  ourselves  surrounded  by  an  element  of 
congeniality  in  paradise, — there  will  be  no 
happiness  for  us,  even  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  throne  of  God.  and  with  the  moral 
lustre  of  the  Godhead  made  visible  to  our 
eyes,  if  we  are  strangers  to  the  emotion  of 
loving  God  for  himself, — if  additional  alto- 


gether, to  the  consideration  that  God  is 
looking  with  complacency  upon  me,  I  do 
not  feel  touched  and  attracted  by  the  beau- 
ties of  his  character,  when  I  look  with  the 
eye  of  contemplation  towards  him.  I  am 
without  the  most  essential  of  all  moral  ac- 
complishments in  myself,  if  I  am  without 
the  esteem  of  moral  accomplishments  in 
another ;  and  if  my  heart  be  of  such  a  con- 
stitution that  nothing  in  the  character  of 
God  can  draw  my  admiration,  or  my  re- 
gard, to  him — then,  though  admitted  within 
the  portals  of  the  city  which  hath  founda- 
tions, and  removed  from  the  torments  of 
hell,  I  am  utterly  unfit  for  the  joys  and  the 
exercises  of  heaven.  I  may  spend  an  eter- 
nity of  exemption  from  pain,  but  without 
one  rapture  of  positive  felicity  to  brighten 
it.  Heaven,  in  fact,  would  be  a  wilderness 
to  my  heart ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  its  ac- 
claiming tlyong  would  I  droop,  and  be  in 
heaviness  under  a  sense  of  perpetual  disso- 
lution. 

And  let  this  convince  us  of  the  mighty 
transition  that  must  be  described  by  the 
men  of  this  world,  ere  they  are  meet  for 
the  other  world  of  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect.  It  is  not  speaking  of  this 
transition,  in  terms  too  great  and  too  lofty, 
to  say,  that  they  must  be  born  again,  and 
made  new  creatures,  and  called  out  of  dark- 
ness into  a  light  that  is  marvellous.  The 
truth  is,  that  out  of  the  pale  of  vital  Chris- 
tianity, there  is  not  to  be  found  among  all 
the  varieties  of  taste,  and  appetite,  and  sen- 
timental admiration,  any  love  for  God  as 
he  is, — any  relish  for  the  holiness  of  his 
character, — any  echoing  testimony,  in  the 
bosom  of  alienated  man,  to  what  is  grace- 
ful, or  to  what  is  venerable  in  the  character 
of  the  Deity.  He  may  be  feelingly  alive  to 
the  beauties  of  what  is  seen,  and  what  is 
sensible.  The  scenery  of  external  nature 
may  charm  him.  The  sublimities  of  a  sur- 
rounding materialism  may  kindle  and  di- 
late him  with  images  of  grandeur.  Even 
the  moralities  of  a  fellow-creature  may  en- 
gage him ;  and  these,  with  the  works  of 
genius,  may  fascinate  him  into  an  idolatrous 
veneration  of  human  power,  or  of  human 
virtue.  But  while  he  thus  luxuriates  and 
delights  himself  with  the  forms  of  derived 
excellence,  there  is  no  sensibility  in  his 
heart  towards  God.  He  rather  prefers  to 
keep  by  the  things  that  are  made,  and,  sur- 
rounded by  them,  to  bury  himself  into  a 


76 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM 


forgetfulne-s  of  .his  Maker.  He  is  most  in 
his  element,  when  in  feeling,  or  in  employ- 
ment, he  is  most  at  a  distance  from  God. 
There  is  a  coldness,  or  a  hatred,  or  a  terror, 
which  mixes  up  with  all  his  contemplations 
of  the  Deity ;  and  gives  to  his  mind  a  kind 
of  sensitive  recoil  from  the  very  thought 
of  him.  He  would  like  to  live  always  in 
the  world,  and  be  content  with  such  felicity 
as  it  can  give,  and  cares  not,  could  he  only 
get  what  his  heart  is  set  upon  here,  and  be 
permitted  to  enjoy  it  for  ever,  though  he 
had  no  sight  of  God,  and  no  fellowship 
with  him  through  eternity.  The  event  to 
which,  of  all  others,  he  looks  forward  with 
the  most  revolting  sense  of  aversion  and 
dismay,  is  that  event  which  is  to  bring  him 
into  a  nearer  contact  with  God, — which  is 
to  dissolve  his  present  close  relationship 
with  the  creature,  and  to  conduct  his  dis- 
embodied spirit  into  the  immediate  pre- 
sence of  the  Creator.  There  is  nothing  in 
death,  in  grim,  odious,  terrific  death,  that 
he  less  desires,  or  is  more  afraid  of,  than  a 
nearer  manifestation  of  the  Deity.  The 
world,  in  truth,  the  warm  and  the  well 
known  world,  is  his  home;  and  the  men 
wh<j  live  in  it,  and  are  as  regardless  of  the 
Divinity  as  himself,  form  the  whole  of  his 
companionship.  Were  it  not  Jpr  the  fear 
of  hell,  he  would  shrink  frorrr  heaven  as 
a  dull  and  melancholy  exile.  All  its  songs 
of  glory  to  him  who  sitteth  on  the  throne, 
would  be  to  his  heart  a  burden  and  a  weari- 
ness ; — and  thus  it  is,  that  the  foundation 
of  every  natural  man  has  its  place  in  that 
perishable  earth,  from  which  death  will 
soon  carry  him  away,  and  which  the  fiery 
indignation  of  God  will  at  length  burn  up ; 
and  as  to  the  being  who  endureth  for  ever, 
and  with  whom  alone  he  has  to  do,  he  sees 
in  him  no  form  nor  comeliness,  nor  no 
beauty  that  he  should  desire  him. 

Now,  is  not  this  due  to  the  darkness  of 
nature,  as  well  as  to  the  depravity  of  na- 
ture? There  is  in  our  diseased  constitu- 
tion, a  spiritual  blindness  to  the  excellen- 
ces of  the  Godhead,  as  well  as  a  spiritual 
disrelish  for  them.  The  truth  is,  that  these 
two  elements  go  together  in  the  sad  pro- 
gress of  human  degeneracy.  Man  liked  not 
to  retain  God  in  his  knowledge,  and  God 
gave  him  over  to  a  reprobate  mind ;  and 
again,  man  walking  in  vanity,  and  an 
enemy  to  God  by  wicked  works,  had  his 
understanding  darkened,  and  was  visited 
with  ignorance,  and  blindness  of  heart.  We 
do  not  apprehend  God,  and  therefore  it  is 
that  we  must  be  renewed  in  the  knowledge 
of  him,  ere  we  can  be  formed  again  to  the 
love  of  him.  The  natural  man  can  no  more 
admire  the  Deity  through  the  obscurities  in 
which  he  is  shrouded,  than  he  can  admire  a 
landscape  which  he  never  saw,  and  which 
at  the  time  of  his  approach  to  it,  is  wrap- 
ped in  the  gloom  of  midnight.    He  can  no 


more,  with  every  offort  to  stir  up  his  facul- 
ties to  lay  hold  of  him,  catch  an  endearing 
view  of  the  Deity,  than  his  eye  can  by 
straining,  penetrate  its  way  through  a  dark- 
ened firmament,  to  the  features  of  that  ma- 
terial loveliness  which  lies  before  him,  and 
around  him.  It  must  be  lighted  up  to  him, 
ere  he  can  love  it,  or  enjoy  it,  and  tell  us 
what  the  degree  of  his  affection  for  the 
scenery  would  be,  if  instead  of  being  lighted 
up  by  the  peaceful  approach  of  a  summer 
morn,  it  were  to  blaze  into  sudden  visibility, 
with  all  its  cultivation  and  cottages,  by  the 
fires  of  a  bursting  volcano.  Tell  us,  if  all 
the  glory  and  gracefulness  of  the  landscape 
which  had  thus  started  into  view,  would 
charm  the  beholder  for  a  moment,  from  the 
terrors  of  his  coming  destruction  ?  Tell  us, 
if  it  is  possible  for  a  sentient  being  to  admit 
another  thought  in  such  circumstances  as 
these,  than  the  thought  of  his  own  preser- 
vation. O  would  not  the  sentiment  of  fear 
about  himself,  cast  out  every  sentiment  of 
love  for  all  that  he  now  saw,  and  were  he 
only  safe  could  look  upon  with  ecstacy  ? — 
and  let  the  beauty  be  as  exquisite  as  it  may, 
would  not  all  the  power  and  pleasure  of  its 
enchantments  fly  away  from  his  bosom, 
were  it  only  seen  through  the  glowing  fer- 
vency of  elements  that  threatened  to  de- 
stroy him  1 

Let  us  now  conceive,  that  through  that 
thick  spiritual  darkness  by  which  every 
child  of  nature  is  encompassed,  there  was 
forced  upon  him  a  view  of  the  countenance 
of  the  Deity, — that  the  perfections  of  God 
were  made  visible, — and  that  the  character 
on  which  the  angels  of  paradise  gaze  with 
delight,  because  they  there  behold  all  the 
lineaments  of  moral  grandeur,  and  moral 
loveliness,  were  placed  before  the  eye  of  his 
mind,  in  bright  and  convincing  manifes- 
tation. It  is  very  true,  that  on  what  he 
would  be  thus  made  to  see,  all  that  is  fair 
and  magnificent  are  assembled, — that  what- 
ever of  greatness,  or  whatever  of  beauty  can 
be  found  in  creation,  is  but  a  faint  and 
shadowy  transcript  of  that  original  sub- 
stantial excellence,  which  resides  in  the 
conceptions  of  him  who  is  the  fountain  of 
being, — that  all  the  pleasing  of  goodness, 
and  all  the  venerable  of  worth,  and  all  the 
sovereign  command  of  moral  dignity  meet 
and  are  realised  on  the  person  of  God, — 
that  through  the  whole  range  of  universal 
existence  there  cannot  be  devised  a  single 
feature  of  excellence  which  does  not  serve 
to  enrich  the  character  of  him  who  sustains 
all  things,  and  who  originated  all  things. 
No  wonder  that  the  pure  eye  of  an  angel 
takes  in  such  fulness  of  pleasure  from  a 
contemplation  so  ravishing.  But  let  all  this 
burst  upon  the  eye  of  a  sinner,  and  let  the 
truth  and  the  righteousness  of  God  out  of 
Christ  stand  before  it  in  visible  array,  along 
with  the  other  glories  of  character  which 


XI.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


17 


belong  to  him.  The  love  of  moral  esteem, 
you  may  say,  ought  to  arise  in  his  bosom; — 
but  it  cannot.  The  affection  is  in  such  cir- 
cumstances impossible.  The  man  is  in  ter- 
ror. And  he  can  no  more  look  with  com- 
placency upon  his  God,  than  he  can  delight 
himself  with  the  fair  forms  of  a  landscape, 
opened  to  his  view  by  the  flashes  of  an  im- 
pending volcano.  He  cannot  draw  an  emo- 
tion so  sweet  and  delightful  as  love,  from 
the  view  of  that  countenance  on  which  he 
beholds  a  purpose  of  vengeance  against 
himself,  as  one  of  the  children  of  iniquity. 
The  fear  which  hath  torment  casteth  out 
this  affection  altogether.  There  is  positively 
no  room  for  it  within  the  bosom  of  a  sen- 
tient being,  along  with  the  dread  and  the 
alarm  by  which  he  is  agitated.  It  is  this 
which  explains  the  recoil  of  his  sinful  na- 
ture from  the  thought  of  God.  The  sense 
of  guilt  comes  into  his  heart,  and  the  terrors 
and  the  agitations  of  guilt  come  along  with 
it.  It  is  because  he  sees  the  justice  of  God 
frowning  upon  him,  and  the  truth  of  God 
pledged  to  the  execution  of  its  threatenings 
against  him,  and  the  holiness  of  God  which 
cannot  look  upon  him  without  abhorrence, 
and  all  the  sacred  attributes  of  a  nature 
that  is  jealous,  and  unchangeable,  leagued 
against  him  for  his  everlasting  destruction. 
He  cannot  love  the  Being,  with  the  very 
idea  of  whom  there  is  mixed  up  a  sense  of 
danger,  and  a  dread  of  condemnation,  and 
all  the  images  of  a  wretched  eternity.  We 
cannot  love  God,  so  long  as  we  look  upon 
him  as  an  enemy  armed  to  destroy  us.  Ere 
we  love  him,  Ave  must  be  made  to  feel  the 
security,  and  the  enlargement  of  one  who 
knows  himself  to  be  safe.  Let  him  take 
his  rod  away  from  me,  and  let  not  his  fear 
terrify  me, — and  then  may  I  love  him  and 
not  fear  him ;  but  it  is  not  so  with  me. 

But  let  him  who  commanded  the  light  to 
shine  out  of  darkness,  shine  in  our  hearts 
to  give  us  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  his 
own  glory,  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ, — 
let  us  only  look  upon  him  as  God  in  Christ 
reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  and  not 
imputing  unto  them  their  trespasses, — let 
him  without  expunging  the  characters  of 
truth  and  majesty,  from  that  one  aspect  of 
perfect  excellence  which  belongs  to  him, — 
let  him  in  his  own  unsearchable  wisdom 
devise  a  way  by  which  he  can  both  bring 
them  out  in  the  eye  of  sinners  with  brighter 
illustration,  and  make  these  sinners  feel  that 
they  are  safe ; — let  him  lift  off  from  the  men 
of  this  guilty  world,  the  burden  of  his  vio- 
lated law,  and  cause  it  to  be  borne  by  an- 
other who  can  magnify  that  law,  and  make 
it  honourable, — let  him  publish  a  full  re- 
lease from  all  its  penalties,  but  in  such  a 
way,  as  that  the  truth  which  proclaimed 
them,  and  the  justice  which  should  execute 
them,  shall  remain  untainted  under  the  dis- 
pensation of  mercy, — let  him  instead  of 


awaking  the  sword  of  vengeance  against 
us,  awake  it  against  a  sufferer  of  such  worth 
and  such  dignity,  that  his  blood  shall  be 
the  atonement  of  a  world,  and  by  pouring 
out  his  soul  unto  death,  he  shall  make  the 
pardon  of  the  transgressor  meet,  and  be  at 
one  with  the  everlasting  righteousness  of 
God, — in  a  word,  instead  of  the  character 
of  God  being  lighted  up  to  the  eye  of  the 
sinner,  by  the  fire  of  his  own  indignation, 
let  it  through  the  demonstration  of  the 
Spirit  be  illustrated,  and  shone  upon,  by  the 
mild,  but  peaceful  light  of  the  Sun  of  righ- 
teousness, and  then  may  the  sinner  look  in 
peace  and  safety  on  the  manifested  charac- 
ter of  the  Godhead.  Delivered  from  the 
burden  of  his  fears,  he  may  now  open  his 
whole  heart  to  the  influences  of  affection. 
And  that  love  of  moral  esteem,  which  be- 
fore the  entrance  of  the  faith  of  the  gospel, 
the  sense  of  condemnation  was  sure  to 
scare  away,  is  now  free  to  take  its  place 
beside  the  love  of  gratitude,  and  to  arise 
along  with  it  in  the  offering  of  one  spiritual 
sacrifice  to  a  reconciled  Father. 

Thus,  then,  it  would  appear,  that  the  love 
of  moral  esteem  is  in  every  way  as  much 
posterior,  and  subordinate  to  faith,  as  is  the 
love  of  gratitude.  That  we  may  be  able  to 
love  God,  either  according  to  the  one  or 
the  other  of  its  modifications,  we  mustjiist 
know  that  God  loved  us.  We  cannot  har- 
bour this  affection  in  any  one  shape  what- 
ever, so  long  as  there  is  the  suspicion,  and 
the  dread  of  a  yet  unsettled  controversy 
between  us  and  God.  Peace  with  our  of- 
fended Lawgiver,  is  not  the  fruit  of  our 
love,  but  of  our  faith  ; — and  faith,  if  it  be  a 
reality,  and  not  a  semblance,  worketh  by 
love.  We  have  peace  with  God  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  And  we  love  much 
when  we  know,  and  believe,  that  our  sins 
are  forgiven  us. 

God  did  not  wait  for  any  returning  af- 
fection on  the  part  of  a  guilty  world,  ere 
he  felt  an  affection  for  it  himself.  At  that 
period  when  he  so  loved  the  world,  as  to 
send  his  only  begotten  Son  into  it, — did  it 
exhibit  the  spectacle  of  an  immense  prison- 
house  of  depravity.  Among  the  men  of  it, 
there  was  friendship  one  for  another,  but 
there  was  one  unalleviated  character  of  en- 
mity against  God.  Measuring  themselves 
by  themselves,  there  was  often  a  high  mu- 
tual esteem  for  such  accomplishments  as 
were  in  demand  for  the  good  of  society ; — 
but  that  which  is  highly  esteemed  among 
men,  is  in  God's  sight  an  abomination ;  and 
when  brought  to  the  measure  of  that  uni- 
versal righteous  which  forms  the  standard 
and  rule  of  Heaven's  government,  was  it 
found  that  our  species  had  through  all  its 
generations  broken  off  from  their  allegiance, 
and  stood  at  as  wide  a  distance  from  the 
obedient,  and  unfallen  creation,  as  does  a 
colony  of  convicts,  from  the  country  which 


78 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


has  cast  them  out  of  its  borders.  And  it 
was  at  such  a  time,  when  the  world  liked 
not  to  retain  God  in  their  knowledge, — 
when  all  flesh  had  corrupted  their  ways, — 
when  there  was  none  seeking  after  God, — 
when  there  was  not  the  thought,  or  the 
wish,  of  a  movement  to  him  back  again, 
that  he  looked  with  pity  on  our  fallen  race, 
and  in  the  fulness  of  time,  sent  his  Son  into 
the  world  to  seek  and  to  save  us. 

And  the  same  is  true  of  every  individual 
to  whom  the  overtures  of  reconciliation 
are  proposed.  God  does  not  wait  for  any 
change  of  affection  in  our  heart,  ere  we  ac- 
cept of  pardon  at  his  hands.  But  he  asks 
one  and  all  of  us  now  to  accept  of  pardon, 
and  to  submit  our  heart  and  character  to 
the  influences  of  that  grace  which  he  is 
ready  to  bestow  upon  us.  In  the  gospel  he 
proclaims  a  pardon  ready  made  for  you, — 
a  deed  of  amnesty  which  he  is  even  now 
stretching  out  for  your  acceptance,  a  pre- 
venting offer  of  mercy,  of  which,  if  you 
believe  the  reality,  you  will  feel  that  he  is 
your  friend,  and  in  which  feeling  you  will 
not  be  disappointed.  He  does  not  expect 
from  you  the  love  of  gratitude,  till  you 
have  known  and  believed  the  great  things 
that  he  hath  done  for  you.  But  he  expects 
from  you  the  offering  of  an  homage  to  his 
truth.  He  does  not  expect  from  you  the 
love  of  moral  esteem,  till,  released  from  the 
terror  of  having  him  for  your  enemy,  you 
may  contemplate  with  all  the  tranquil 
calmness  of  conscious  safety,  the  glories 
and  the  graces  of  his  manifested  character. 
But  he  expects  from  you  faith  in  his  declara- 
tion, that  he  is  not  your  enemy, — that  he  has 
no  pleasure  in  your  death, — that  in  Christ  he 
is  beseeching  you  to  be  reconciled, — and 
stretching  out  to  you  the  arms  of  invitation. 

The  first  matter  on  hand,  then,  between 
God  and  sinners,  in  the  work  of  making 
reconciliation,  is,  that  they  believe  in  him. 
It  is,  that  the  tidings  of  great  joy  shall  fall 
upon  them  with  credit  and  acceptance.  It 
is,  that  they  count  the  sayings  of  the  word 
of  this  life  to  be  faithful  sayings.  It  is,  that 
they  put  faith  in  the  record  which  God 
hath  given  of  his  Son,  which  if  they  do, 
they  will  believe  that  God  hath  given  them 
eternal  life,  and  that  this  life  is  in  his  Son. 

There  is  a  certain  speculation  about  the 
disinterested  love  of  God,  which  has  served 
to  darken  and  to  embarrass  this  process. 
It  has  cast  an  unmerited  stigma  on  the  love 
of  gratitude.  But  its  worst  effect,  by  far, 
is,  that  it  has  impeded  the  freeness  of  the 
overtures  of  the  gospel.  It  has  perplexed 
the  outset  of  many  an  inquirer.  It  has 
made  him  search  in  his  own  mind  for  the 
evidences  of  an  affection  which  he  never 
can  meet  with,  till  he  embraces  the  offers, 
and  relies  upon  the  promises  of  the  New 
Testament.  It  has  deposed  faith  from  that 
post  of  presiding  supremacy  which  belongs 


to  it,  and  shifted  from  its  place  that  great 
principle  on  which  both  the  love  of  grati- 
tude and  the  love  of  moral  esteem  are  sus- 
pended. 

Let  us  cease  to  wonder,  then,  why  faith 
occupies  so  much  the  station  of  a  pre- 
liminary in  the  New  Testament.  It  is  the 
great  starting  point,  as  it  were,  of  Christian 
discipleship.  Grant  but  this  principle,  and 
love,  with  all  the  vigour,  and  all  the  alac- 
rity which  it  gives  to  obedience,  will  emerge 
from  its  operation.  There  is  no  other  way, 
in  fact,  of  charming  love  into  existence; 
and  the  gratitude  which  devotes  me  to  the 
service  of  a  reconciled  God,  and  the  love 
of  his  character,  which  makes  me  meet  for 
the  enjoyment  of  him  in  heaven,  can  only 
arise  in  my  bosom  after  I  have  believed. 

Let  this  consideration  shut  you  up  unto 
the  faith.  Let  it  exalt  in  your  estimation, 
the  mighty  importance  of  a  principle,  with- 
out which  there  can  neither  be  any  sancti- 
fication  here,  nor  any  salvation  hereafter. 
Think  it  not  enough  that  you  import  it  into 
your  mind  as  a  bare  existence.  Know  what 
it  is  to  put  it  into  habitual  exercise,  to  dwell 
upon  the  truths  which  it  embraces,  and  to 
submit,  in  feeling  and  practice,  to  their 
genuine  operation.  This  is  the  only  way 
in  which  you  can  ever  live  a  life  of  faith 
on  the  Son  of  God, — or  live  by  the  power 
of  a  world  to  come, — or  keep  yourselves  in 
the  love  of  God,  seeing  that  it  is  only  when 
you  know  and  believe  that  God  first  loved 
you,  that  you  can  be  made  to  love  him. 

In  the  progress  of  these  observations,  a 
few  thoughts  have  occurred,  which  we  trust 
may  be  deemed  of  sufficient  importance 
to  be  brought  forward, — and  which  wc 
bring  forward  now,  as  supplementary  to  the 
whole  argument. 

It  will  have  been  remarked,  that  we  do 
not  consider  man  as  altogether  incapable  of 
the  love  of  moral  esteem  towards  any  being 
whatever.  There  are  certain  virtues  of 
character  which  do  call  forth  the  admira- 
tion and  the  tenderness,  even  of  our  dis- 
eased nature,  when  they  reside  somewhere 
else  than  in  the  person  of  the  Deity.  Let 
our  depravity  be  what  it  may,  it  were  in 
the  face  of  all  observation  to  affirm,  that 
man  does  not  love  the  truth  rather  than 
falsehood,  and  compassion  rather  than  cru- 
elty, in  a  fellow-man,— and  the  interesting 
question  comes  to  be,  how  is  it  that  these 
qualities  appear  to  lose  all  the  force  which 
naturally  belongs  to  them,  of  attracting  our 
regard,  so  as  to  awaken  no  such  sentiment 
towards  God,  though  they  be  exemplified 
by  him,  in  a  degree  that  is  infinite  ? 

It  will  help  us,  in  part,  to  resolve  this 
question,  if  we  conceive  of  our  man  of 
moral  virtues,  that  his  very  truth,  and  jus- 
tice, and  compassion,  lead  him,  in  the  de- 
fence of  wronged  or  calumniated  innocence 


XI.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


79 


to  turn  the  whole  force  of  his  indignation 
on  the  head  of  an  oppressor;  and  then  think 
of  the  feeling  which  will  arise,  of  conse- 
quence, in  the  heart  of  the  latter.  It  will  be 
a  feeling  of  hatred  and  antipathy.  And  yet 
we  do  not  see  far  into  the  secrecies  of  the 
human  constitution,  if  we  do  not  perceive, 
that,  in  perfect  consistency  with  this  feeling 
of  personal  dislike  to  the  man  of  virtue,  who 
is  hostile  to  him,  there  may  exist,  even  in 
his  vitiated  soul,  the  love  of  moral  esteem 
towards  virtue  residing  in  some  other  quar- 
ter, or  exemplified  by  some  other  individual. 
Instead  of  this  virtue  being  realized  on  the 
person  of  one  who  is  an  enemy  to  myself, 
let  it  be  offered  by  description  to  my  no- 
tice, in  the  person  of  one  who  lives  in  a 
distant  country,  or  who  lived  in  a  distant 
age,  and  let  the  thought  of  my  particular 
adversary  be  not  offensively  suggested  to 
my  mind  by  such  a  contemplation, — and  I, 
with  all  those  depravities  which  have  pro- 
voked the  resentment  of  my  upright  neigh- 
bour against  me,  and  have  called  forth  in 
my  heart  a  corresponding  hatred  towards 
him,  will  offer  the  homage  of  my  regard 
and  reverence  towards  the  picture  of  moral 
excellence,  that  is  thus  set  before  me.  This 
may  look  an  anomalous  exhibition  of  our 
nature;  but  it  certainly  is  not  more  so,  than 
the  well-known  fact  of  a  slave  proprietor, 
at  one  time  wreaking  his  caprice  and  his 
cruelty  on  the  living  men  who  are  around 
him,  and  at  another  weeping,  in  all  the 
softness  of  pathetic  emotion,  over  the  dis- 
tresses of  a  fictitious  narrative.  Distress 
in  one  quarter  may  move  our  pity.  Dis- 
tress in  another  may  be  inflicted  by  our 
own  hand,  to  glut  our  vindictive  propen- 
sities. Worth  in  the  person  of  one  who  is 
indifferent,  and  still  more  of  one  who  is 
friendly,  may  call  forth  our  warm  and  ho- 
nest acknowledgments.  Worth  in  the  per- 
son of  another,  the  very  principles  of  whose 
character  have  moved  him  to  irritate  our 
pride,  or  to  wound  our  selfishness,  may  turn 
him  into  the  object  of  our  most  passionate, 
determined,  and  unrelenting  hostility. 

And  thus  it  is,  that  I  may  have  a  natural 
taste  for  several  of  the  virtues  which  enter 
into  the  Godhead,  and  at  the  same  time, 
may  have  a  hatred  towards  the  person  of 
the  Godhead. — This  natural  taste  may  be 
regarded  by  some,  as  a  predisposing  ele- 
ment in  my  heart  towards  the  love  of  God  ; 
but  so  long  as  I  view  him  armed  in  righte- 
ousness to  destroy  me,  will  this  as  effectu- 
ally repress  the  embryo  affection,  as  if  still 
it  were  fast  slumbering  in  the  depths  of 
nonentity.  It  is  willingly  admitted,  that 
there  are  certain  partial  sketches  of  the  cha- 
racter of  the  Deity,  which,  if  offered  to  our 
notice,  in  a  state  of  separation  from  his 
anger  against  us,  the  children  of  disobe- 
dience, would  kindle  in*  our  bosoms  a  feel- 
ing of  tasteful  admiration.    But  the  dread, 


or  the  suspicion  of  his  anger  absorbs  this 
feeling  altogether ;  and  however  much  we 
may  bear  the  semblance  of  love  for  his  cha- 
racter, when  we  look  to  certain  traits  of  it 
in  a  detached  and  broken  exhibition. — yet 
this  is  perfectly  consistent  with  the  fact,  that 
the  natural  mind  hates  the  person  of  the 
Deity, — that  the  natural  mind  is  enmity 
against  God.  And  this  ought  to  convince  us, 
that  even  though  there  should  be  predispos- 
ing elements  of  love  to  him  for  his  worth,  it 
is  still  indispensable,  in  order  to  change  our 
hatred  into  affection,  that  we  should  look 
upon  God  as  having  ceased  from  his  anger, 
or  that  we  should  see  him  arrayed  in  all  the 
tenderness  of  offered  and  inviting  friendship. 
There  is  a  spell  by  which  these  elements 
are  fastened,  and  which  can  never  be  done 
away,  till  God  woo  me  to  friendship  and 
confidence,  by  an  exhibition  of  good-will. 

Faith  in  the  cross  of  Christ,  is  the  pri- 
mary step  of  this  approximation.  To  call 
for  a  disinterested  affection  towards  God, 
from  one  who  looks  upon  God  as  an  adver- 
sary, and  that  even  though  there  should  be 
in  his  bosom  the  undeveloped  seeds  of  re- 
gard to  the  worth  or  character  of  the  Su- 
preme, is  to  make  a  demand  on  a  sentient 
being,  which,  by  his  very  constitution,  he 
is  unable  to  meet  or  to  satisfy.  And  is  not 
this  demand  still  more  preposterous,  when 
it  comes  from  a  quarter  where  the  de- 
pravity of  man  is  held  to  be  so  entire,  that 
not  one  latent  or  predisposing  element  to- 
wards the  love  of  God  is  ascribed  to  him  ? 
Is  it  not  a  still  vainer  expectation  to  think, 
in  such  hopeless  circumstances  as  these, 
that  ere  man  seizes  the  gift  of  redemption, 
he  shall  import  into  his  character  the  grace 
of  a  pure  and  spiritual  affection ;  that  with 
the  terror  of  his  bosom  yet  unpacified,  and 
the  countenance  of  God  upon  him  as  unre- 
lenting as  ever,  there  shall  arise,  in  the  midst 
of  all  this  agitation,  a  love  to  that  Being, 
the  very  thought  of  whom  brings  a  sense 
of  insecurity  along  with  it;  or  that  a  guilty 
creature,  who,  even  if  he  had  in  a  state  of 
dormancy  within  him  the  principles  of 
moral  regard  to  the  Divinity,  could  not, 
under  the  burden  of  wrath  still  unappeased, 
charm  these  principles  out  of  the  state  of 
their  inaction, — that  he,  even  were  he  ut- 
terly destitute  of  these  principles  should  be 
able,  under  this  burden,  to  charm  them  out 
of  the  state  of  non-existence  ? 

And  this,  by  the  way,  may  serve  to  show 
the  whole  amount  of  that  tasteful  senti- 
mentalism,  in  virtue  of  which,  a  transient 
but  treacherous  and  hollow  regard  towards 
the  Divinity,  may  be  detected  in  the  hearts 
of  those  who  nauseate  the  whole  spirit  and 
contents  of  the  Gospel.  They  admit  into 
their  contemplation  only  as  much  of  the 
character  of  God,  as  may  serve  to  make 
out  a  tender  or  an  engaging  exhibition  of 
him.     They  may  leave  entire  the  ground- 


80 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


work  of  his  natural  attributes;  but,  in  every 
survey  they  take  of  the  moral  complexion 
of  the  Godhead,  they  refuse  to  look  to  all 
his  moral  attributes  put  together,  and  only 
fasten  their  regard  upon  one  of  them,  even 
the  attribute  of  indulgence.     They  cannot 
endure  the  view  of  his  whole  character; 
and  should  this  view  ever  intrude  itself,  it 
puts  to  flight  all  the  pathos  and  elegance 
of  mere  natural  piety.     Truth,  as  directed 
against  themselves  ;  holiness,  as  refusing  to 
dwell  in  peaceful  or  approving  fellowship 
with  themselves ;  justice,  as  committed  to  a 
sentence  of  severe  and  inflexible  retribution 
upon  themselves, — all  these  are  out  of  their 
contemplation  at  that  moment,  when  the 
votaries  of  a  poetical  theism  feel  towards 
their  imagined  deity  an  evanescent  glow 
of  affection  or  reverence.    But  truth  and 
conscience  are  ever  meddling  with  this  en- 
joyment ;  and  piety  resting  on  so  frail  and 
partial  a  foundation,  never  can  attain  an 
habitual  ascendency  over  the  character ; 
and  what  at  the  best  is  fictitious,  does  not, 
and  ought  not,  to  have  more  than  a  rare 
and  little  hour  of  emotion  given  to  it;  and 
this  may  explain  how  it  is,  that  with  the 
very  same  individual,  there  may  be  both  an 
occasional  recurrence  of  devotional  feeling, 
and  a  life  of  rooted  and  practical  ungodli- 
ness.   An  illusory  representation  of  God 
will  no  more  draw  away  our  affections 
from  the  world,  or  engage  us  in  the  solid 
and  experimental  business  of  obedience  to 
its  Maker,  than  the  flippancy  of  a  novel  will 
practically  influence  the  habits  of  nature,  or 
of  society.    And  thus  it  is,  that  the  religion 
which  is  apart  from  Christianity,  falls  as  far 
short  of  true  religion,  as  the  humanity  we 
have  just  quoted,  falls  short  of  true  humanity. 
But  to  return.     We  have  already  said, 
that  even  though  there  did  exist  in  the  heart 
of  man  a  native  regard  to  certain  ingre- 
dients of  worth  in  the  character  of  the  Di- 
vinity, a  previous  exhibition  of  good  will  is 
still  essential,  that  the  person  of  the  Di- 
vinity may  be  endeared  to  him.    And  the 
argument    for    such   a  priority  becomes 
much  stronger,  when  it  is  made  out,  on  a 
farther  attention  to  this  matter,  that  there 
is,  in  fact,  no  such  native  or  predisposing 
regard.     For,  though  it  be  true,  that  there 
are  certain  moral  virtues,  which,  when  re- 
alized upon  man,  draw  towards  them  the 
love  and  the  reverence  even  of  our  de- 
praved nature,  and  which,  when  heightened 
into  perfection  upon  God,  should  therefore, 
it  might  be  conceived,  obtain  from  nature, 
if  placed  in  favourable  circumstances,  the 
homage  of  a  love  still  more  tender,  and  of 
a  reverence  still  more  profound; — yet  there 
is  one  great  and  comprehensive  quality  by 
which  all  the  moral  attributes  of  the  God- 
head are  pervaded,  and  for  which  we  can 
detect  no  native  and  no  kindred  principle 
of  attachment  whatever,  in  the  constitution 


of  our  species.  We  allude  to  the  holiness 
of  the  Godhead.  Were  we  asked  to  define 
this  holiness,  we  should  feel  that  we  were 
not  giving  to  the  term  its  full  significancy, 
by  saying,  that  it  merely  consisted  in  the 
absolute  perfection  of  all  the  moral  virtues 
of  the  Divinity.  It  is  a  term  which,  in  the 
appropriate  force  of  it,  denotes  contrast  or 
separation.  It  was  for  this  reason  assigned 
to  the  vessels  of  the  temple,  and  just  be- 
cause they  were  set  apart  from  common  use. 
To  have  made  them  common,  would  have 
been  to  make  them  unclean,  or  unholy.  To 
have  turned  them  to  any  ordinary  or  house- 
hold purposes,  would  have  been  to  inflict 
upon  them  such  a  touch  of  profanation,  that 
their  holiness  would  have  departed  from 
them.  Had  there  been  a  full  and  perfect 
sense  of  God  in  every  house,  and  in  every 
heart, — had  the  presence  of  the  Divinity 
been  equally  felt  by  his  creatures  at  all 
times,  and  in  all  places, — had  the  will  of  the 
Divinity  held  as  presiding  an  influence  over 
the  every-day  doings,  as  over  the  services  of 
the  solemn  and  extraordinary  occasion, — 
then  there  might  have  been  no  temple,  and 
no  ritual  observation,  and,  of  consequence, 
no  room  for  such  an  application  of  the  term 
holiness.  A  thing  is  not  consecrated  by 
being  set  apart  from  that  which  is  equally 
pure  and  sacred  with  itself;  and  did- there 
obtain  an  equal  and  universal  purity  through- 
out the  whole  system  of  nature,  there  could 
be  no  need  for  separation.  In  these  circum- 
ces,  there  would  have  been  no  contrast,  and, 
therefore,  no  demand  for  such  a  term  as 
that  of  holiness. 

This  may  serve  to  illustrate  the  force  and 
import  of  the  term,  as  applied  to  the  cha- 
racter of  God.  It  does  not  signify  the  moral 
perfection  of  his  character,  taken  absolutely. 
It  signifies  this  perfection  in  relation  to  its 
opposite.  When  we  look  to  the  holiness  of 
the  divine  character,  we  look  to  it  in  its  aspect 
of  lofty  separation  from  all  that  can  either 
taint  or  debase  it.  We  look  to  its  irreconcila- 
ble variance  with  sin.  We  look  to  the  inac- 
cessible height  at  which  it  stands  above  all 
the  possible  acquirements  of  created  nature, 
insomuch,  that  he  who  possesses  it,  charges 
even  his  angels  with  folly :  and  when  cre- 
ated nature  is  not  only  imperfect,  but  sinful, 
when  we  look  to  the  recoil  of  the  Divinity 
from  all  contact,  and  from  all  approxima- 
tion, we  think  of  the  purer  eyes  than  can 
behold  iniquity,  and  of  the  presence  so  sa- 
cred, that  evil  cannot  dwell  with  it.  We  think 
of  that  sanctuary  into  which  there  cannot 
enter  any  thing  that  defileth,  or  that  maketh 
a  lie, — a  sanctuary  guarded  by  all  the  jea- 
lousies of  the  Divine  nature,  and  so  repugnant 
to  the  approach  of  pollution,  that  if  it  offer 
to  draw  nigh,  the  fire  of  a  consuming  indig- 
nation will  either  check,  or  will  destroy  it. 

Now,  were  the  whole  severity  of  this  at- 
tribute directed  against  the  violations  of 


XI.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


81 


social  kindness,  and  social  equity,  we  would 
admit  that  there  was  a  ready  coalescence 
with  it  in  the  principles  of  our  natural  con- 
stitution. But  when  it  searches  into  the 
character  of  the  most  urgent  affections  of 
nature,  and  there  detects  the  very  essence  of 
sinfulness ; — when  it  sits  in  judgment  over 
the  preference  given  by  every  child  of  Adam 
to  the  creature,  rather  than  the  Creator,  and 
who  holds  this  in  righteous  abomination  ; — 
when  it  looks  through  a  society  of  human 
beings,  and  pronounces,  in  spite  of  all  the 
justice  by  which  its  interests  are  guarded, 
and  of  all  the  humanity  by  which  its  ills  are 
softened,  or  done  away,  that,  wholly  given 
over  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  world,  it  is 
wholly  immersed  in  the  guilt  of  an  idolatry, 
by  which  the  jealousies  of  the  supreme  and 
spiritual  God  are  provoked  to  the  uttermost; 
— when  holiness  is  thus  seen,  not  merely  in 
its  antipathy  to  crime,  which  is  occasional 
and  rare,  but  in  its  antipathy  to  an  affection, 
the  rooted  obstinacy  of  which,  and  the  en- 
grossing power  of  which,  are  universal, — 
then  so  far  from  the  coalescence  of  approving 
nature,  do  we  behold  the  revolt  of  pained  and 
irritated  nature.  It  no  more  follows,  be- 
cause man  loathes  the  cruelty  or  the  injustice 
of  his  fellow-man,  that  he  therefore  carries 
in  his  heart  a  predisposing  element  of  re- 
gard for  the  essential  character  of  God, 
than  it  follows,  because  a  man  would  sicken 
with  disgust  at  the  atrocities  of  a  prison- 
house,  that  he  therefore  feels  his  element 
»ind  his  joy  to  be  in  the  humble  piety  of  a 
conventicle.  A  high-minded  and  an  ho- 
nourable merchant  finds  room  in  his  bosom 
for  the  love  both  of  truth  and  of  the  world. 
Yet  the  one  is  an  attribute  of  God,  while 
the  love  of  the  other  is  opposite  to  the  love 
of  God.  "  If  any  man  love  the  world,"  says 
an  apostle,  "  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in 
him."  lie  may  like  the  transcript  of  truth, 
and  of  many  other  virtues  on  the  face  of 
the  creature,  but  he  likes  not  the  Creator. 
He  can  gaze,  and  that  even  with  rapture  on 
the  partial  and  imperfect  sketches  of  the 
unfinished  copy,  but  he  shrinks  from  the 
view  of  the  entire  original.  He  can  hold 
the  intercourse  of  wistful  thoughts,  and  fer- 
vent aspiration,  the  absent  object  of  his 
earthly  regard,  but  he  has  neither  taste  nor 
capacity  for  communion  with  his  Father  in 
heaven.  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God 
Almighty,"  is  the  anthem  of  the  celestial, 
but  theirs  is  a  delightwhich  he  cannot  share 
in.  And  as  surely  as  his  body  would  need 
to  be  transformed,  ere  it  could  cease  to  have 
pain  amid  the  agonies  of  hell, — so  surely 
would  his  mind  need  to  be  transformed,  ere 
it  ceased  to  feel  a  confinement  and  an  irk- 
someness  amid  the  halleluiahs  of  paradise. 
Even  though  man,  then,  had  in  his  heart 
a  nascent  affection  for  the  character  of  God, 
this  would  be  restrained  from  passing  on- 
wards to  an  affection  for  his  person,  by  a 


sense  of  guilt,  and  the  consequent  dread  of 
God  as  an  enemy.  Nor  could  the  love  of 
God  be  inserted  in  his  bosom,  till  by  faith 
in  the  expiation  of  the  gospel,  that  which 
letteth  was  taken  out  of  the  way.  But  still 
more,  if,  in  conformity  to  our  present  argu- 
ment, there  be  no  such  nascent  affection  for 
the  Divine  character,  is  it  hopeless  to  at- 
tempt the  establishment  of  love  antecedently 
to  belief,  or  that  attachment  should  take 
possession  of  the  heart,  (  re  fear  takes  its  de- 
parture away  from  it.  Even  if  by  the  work- 
ing of  some  power  unknown  in  the  human 
constitution,  or  by  some  effort,  the  success 
of  which  has  never  yet,  in  a  single  instance, 
been  experienced,  there  could  be  made  to 
arise  in  the  soul,  the  love  of  holiness,  pre- 
vious to  the  act  of  trusting  in  the  offered 
Saviour, — a  terror  at  God,  which,  in  the 
absence  of  this  trust,  is  the  instinctive  and 
universal  feeling  of  nature,  would  just  as 
effectually  repress  the  love  of  holiness,  as  it 
does  the  love  of  truth,  or  of  compassion,  or 
of  justice,  from  carrying  us  onwards  to  a 
regard  for  the  person  of  the  Godhead.  To 
put  the  love  of  God's  character  into  a  heart, 
not  yet  brought  into  enlargement  by  the 
faith  of  the  gospel,  would  just  be  to  put  it 
into  a  prison-hold,  and  there  to  chain  it 
down  to  a  fruitlessness  and  inactivity,  where 
it  would  be  wholly  unproductive  of  love  to 
God  himself.  Confidence  must  take  the 
precedency  of  this  love,  even  in  a  bosom 
already  furnished  with  the  preparatory  ele- 
ments of  affection  ;  and  how  much  more  es- 
sential then  is  it,  that  it  should  take  the  pre- 
cedency in  a  bosom,  where  these  elements 
are  altogether  wanting  ?  Faith  is  thus  more 
strongly  evinced  to  be  a  thing  of  prior  and 
indispensable  necessity.  Without  it,  even 
the  seed  of  any  precious  affection  for  the 
Godhead,  stifled  in  embryo,  would  not  blow 
into  luxuriance.  And  if  our  nature  be  such 
a  wilderness  that  no  seed  is  there, — if  the 
thing  wanted  be  the  germination  of  a  new 
principle,  and  not  the  developement  of  an 
old, — if  it  be  by  a  creative  and  not  by  a 
mere  fostering  process,  that  we  are  trans- 
formed into  a  meetness  for  heaven, — if  the 
agency  that  is  made  to  bear  upon  the  human 
soul,  must  have  a  power  to  regenerate  as 
well  as  to  repair, — and  if  the  promise  of  this 
agency  be  given  only  to  those  who  believe, 
then  let  us  no  more  linger,  or  be  bewildered, 
in  that  abyss  of  helplessness  from  which 
faith  alone  can  extricate  the  inquirer, — let 
us  no  longer  arrest  the  eye  of  confidence 
from  that  demonstration  of  good  will,  which 
is  held  out  to  the  most  widely  alienated  of 
sinners, — but  hasten  to  place  ourselves,  even 
now,  on  that  foundation  of  trust,  where  alone 
we  are  made  the  workmanship  of  God  in 
Christ  Jesus,  and  the  love  of  God  is  shed 
abroad  in  our  hearts  by  the  Holy  Ghost. 

"  Destroy  this  temple,"  says  the  Saviour, 
"and  I  will  raise  it  up  again  in  three  days." 


82 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


[SERM. 


It  is  there  alone  that  we  can  behold  the 
beauty  of  the  lord  and  be  safe.  This  place 
of  greatest  security,  is  also  the  place  of 
chiefest  glory.  It  is  when  admitted  into 
this  greater  and  more  perfect  tabernacle, 
that  we  can  look  on  majesty  without  terror, 
and  on  holiness  without  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  condemnation.  The  sinner  en- 
circled in  mercy  looks  in  tranquil  contem- 
plation on  all  that  is  awful  and  venerable  in 
the  character  of  the  Godhead, — and  never 
do  truth,  and  righteousness,  and  purity, 
appear  in  loftier  exhibition  before  him,  than, 
when  withheld  from  his  own  person,  he 
sees  the  whole  burden  of  their  avenging 
laid  upon  the  head  of  the  great  Sacrifice. 

"  One  thing  have  I  desired  of  the  Lord." 
says  the  Psalmist,  "  that  I  may  dwell  in  the 
courts  of  the  Lord,  all  the  days  of  my  life, 
to  behold  the  beauty  of  the  Lord,  and  to  en- 
quire in  his  temple."  It  is  not  till  we  are 
within  the  portals  of  the  place  of  refuge 
that  this  desire  can  obtain  its  fulfilment. 
Selfishness  may  have  originated  the  move- 
ment which  took  us  there.  The  fear  of  the 
coming  wrath  may  have  lent  celerity  to  our 
footsteps.  A  joyful  sense  of  deliverance 
may  have  been  felt,  ere  the  glories  of  the 
divine  character  were  seen  in  bright  and 
convincing  manifestation.  The  love  of 
gratitude  may  have  kindled  within  us, — 
and,  with  the  Psalmist,  we  may  have  to  seek, 
and  to  inquire,  and  to  have  daily  exercise 
and  meditation,  ere  the  loveof  moral  esteem 
has  attained  the  place  of  ascendency  which 
belongs  to  it.  Nevertheless,  the  chief  end 
•of  man  is  to  glorify  God,  and  to  enjoy  him 


for  ever.  This  is  the  real  destination  of 
every  individual  who  is  redeemed  from 
among  men.  This  should  be  the  main  ob- 
ject of  all  his  prayers,  and  all  his  prepara- 
tions. It  is  this  which  fits  him  for  the  com- 
pany of  heaven ;  and  unless  there  be  a  grow- 
ing taste  for  God,  in  the  glories  of  his  ex- 
cellency,— for  God,  in  the  beauties  of  his 
holiness, — there  is  no  ripening,  and  no  per- 
fecting, for  the  mansions  of  immortality. 
Though  you  have  to  combat,  then,  with  the 
sluggishness  of  sense,  and  with  the  real 
aversion  of  nature  to  every  spiritual  exercise, 
you  must  attempt,  and  stenuously  cultivate, 
the  habit  of  communion  with  God.  And 
as  no  man  knoweth  the  Father  save  the  Son 
reveal  him,  and  as  it  is  by  the  Spirit  that 
Christ  gives  light  to  those  who  believe  in 
him ; — for  the  attainment  of  this  great  moral 
and  spiritual  accomplishment,  do  what  the 
Apostle  directs  you,  when  he  says,  "  Keep 
yourselves  in  the  love  of  God,  by  praying 
in  the  Holy  Ghost."  Your  first  endeavours 
may  be  feeble,  and  fatiguing,  and  fruitless. 
But  God  will  not  despise  the  day  of  small 
things, — nor  will  the  light  of  his  counte- 
nance be  always  withheld  from  those  who 
aspire  after  it, — nor  will  the  soul  that  thirsts 
after  God,  be  left  for  ever  unsatisfied, — and 
the  life  and  peace  of  being  spiritually  mind- 
ed, will  come  in  rich  experience  to  his  feel- 
ings,— and  the  whole  habit  of  his  tastes 
and  enjoyments,  will  be  in  a  diametric  op- 
position to  that  of  the  children  of  the  world, 
— God  being  the  habitation  to  which  he  re- 
sorts continually, — God  being  the  strength 
of  his  heart,  and  his  portion  for  evermore. 


SERMON  XII. 


The  Emptiness  of  Natural  Virtue. 

H  But  I  know  you,  that  ye  have  not  the  love  of  God  in  you." — John  v.  24. 


When  it  is  said,  in  a  former  verse  of  the 
gospel,  that  Jesus  knew  what  was  in  man, 
we  feel,  that  it  is  a  tribute  of  acknowledg- 
ment, rendered  to  his  superior  insight  into 
the  secrecies  of  our  constitution.  It  was 
jsot  the  mere  faculty  of  perceiving  what  lay 
before  him,  that  was  ascribed  to  him  by  the 
Evangelist.  It  was  the  faculty  of  perceiving 
what  lay  disguised  under  a  semblance,  that 
would  have  imposed  on  the  understanding 
of  other  men.  It  was  the  faculty  of  de- 
tecting. It  was  a  discerning  of  the  spirit, 
and  that  not  through  the  transparency  of 
-such  unequivocal  symptoms,  as  brought  its 
character  clearly  home  to  the  view  of  the 
observer.  But  it  was  a  discerning  of  the 
spirit,  as  it  lay  wrapt  in  what,  to  an  ordi- 
nary spectator,  was  a  thick  and.  impenetra- 


ble hiding  place.  It  was  a  discovery  there 
of  the  real  posture  and  habitude  of  the  soul. 
It  was  a  searching  of  it  out,  through  all  the 
recesses  of  duplicity,  winding  and  counter- 
winding  in  such  a  way  as  to  elude  altogether 
the  eye  of  commom  acquaintanceship.  It 
was  the  assigning  to  it  of  one  attribute,  at 
the  time  when  it  wore  the  guise  of  another 
attribute, — of  utter  antipathy  to  the  nature 
and  design  of  his  mission,  at  the  very  time 
that  multitudes  were  drawn  around  him, 
by  the  fame  of  his  miracles,— of  utter  indif- 
ference about  God,  at  the  very  time  that 
they  zealously  asserted  the  sanctity  of  his 
sabbaths,  and  resented  as  blasphemous, 
whatever  they  felt  to  be  an  usurpation  of 
the  greatness  which  belonged  to  him  only. 
It  was  in  the  exercise  of  this  faculty,  that 


XII.] 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


83 


Jesus  came  forward  with  the  utterance  of 
our  text.  The  Jews,  by  whom  he  was  sur- 
rounded, had  charged  him  with  the  guilt  of 
profanation,  and  sought  even  to  avenge  it 
by  his  death,  because  he  had  healed  a  man 
on  the  sabbath  day.  And  their  desire  of 
vengeance  was  still  more  inflamed,  by  what 
they  understood  to  be  an  assertion,  on  his 
part,  of  equality  with  God.  And  yet,  under 
all  this  appearance,  and  even  with  all  this 
reality  of  a  zeal  about  God,  did  he  who 
knew  what  was  in  man  pronounce  of  these 
his  enemies,  that  the  love  of  God  was  not 
in  them.  I  know  you  says  he, — as  if  at 
this  instant  he  had  put  forth  a  stretch 
of  penetration,  in  order  to  find  his  way 
through  all  the  sounds  of  godliness  which 
he  heard,  and  through  all  the  symptoms  of 
godliness  which  he  saw, — I  know  that  then- 
does  not  exist  within  you  that  principle, 
which  links  to  God,  the  whole  of  God's  obe- 
dient creation, — I  know  that  you  do  not 
love  him,  and  that,  therefore,  you  are  ut- 
terly in  want  of  that  affection,  which  lies  at 
the  root  of  all  real,  and  of  all  acceptable 
godliness. 

It  is  mortifying  to  the  man  who  pos- 
sesses many  accomplishments  of  character, 
to  be  told,  that  the  greatest  and  most  essen- 
tial accomplishment  of  a  moral  being,  is 
that  of  which  he  has  no  share, — that  the 
principle  on  which  we  expatiated  in  our 
last  discourses  does  not,  in  any  of  its  varie- 
ties, belong  to  him, — that,  wanting  it,  he 
wants  not  merely  obedience  to  the  first  and 
the  greatest  commandment,  which  is  the 
love  of  God,  but  he  wants  what  may  be 
called  the  impregnating  quality  of  all  ac- 
ceptable obedience  whatever, — the  spirit 
which  ought  to  animate  the  performance  of 
every  other  commandment,  and  without 
which  the  most  laborious  conformity  to  the 
law  of  Heaven,  may  do  no  more  than  im- 
press upon  his  person  the  cold  and  lifeless 
image  of  loyalty,  while  in  his  mind  there  is 
not  one  of  its  essential  attributes. 

We  know  not  a  more  useful  exercise 
than  that  of  carrying  round  this  conviction 
amongst  all  the  classes  and  conditions  of 
humanity.  In  the  days  of  our  Saviour,  the 
pride  of  the  Pharisees  stood  opposed  to 
such  a  demonstration  ;  and  in  our  own  days, 
too,  there  are  certain  pretensions  of  worth, 
and  of  excellence,  which  must  be  disposted, 
ere  we  can  hope  to  obtain  admittance  for 
the  humiliating  doctrine  of  the  gospel.  For 
this  gospel,  it  must  be  observed,  proceeds 
upon  the  basis,  not  of  a  partial,  but  of  an 
entire  and  universal  depravity  anions  the 
men  of  the  world.  It  assimilates  all  the 
varieties  of  the  human  character  into  one 
common  condition  of  guilt,  and  need,  and 
helplessness.  It  presumes  the  existence  of 
such  a  moral  disease  in  every  son  and 
daughter  of  Adam,  as  renders  the  applica- 
tion of  the  same  moral  remedy  indispensa- 


ble to  them  all.     The  formalists  of  Judea 
did  not  like  to  be  thus  grouped  with  publi- 
cans and  harlots,  under  one  description  of 
sinfulness.  Nor  do  men  of  taste,  and  feeling, 
and  graceful  morality,  in  our  present  day, 
readily  understand  how  they  should  require 
the  same  kind  of  treatment,  in  the  work  of 
preparing  them  for  immortality,  with  the 
most  glaringly  profligate  and  unrighteous 
of  their  neighbourhood.     They  look  to  the 
ostensible    marks  of   distinction    between 
themselves  and  others ; — and  what  wider 
distinction,  they  think,  can  possibly  be  as- 
signed, than  that  which  obtains  between 
the  upright  or  the  kind-hearted,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  ungenerous  or  dishonest,  on 
the  other  ?     Now,  what  we  propose,  in  the 
following  discourse,  is  to  lead  them  to  look 
a  little  farther, — and  then  they  will  see  at 
least  one  point  of  similarity  between  these 
two  classes,  the  want  of  one  common  ingre- 
dient with  both,  and  which  attaches  to  each 
of  them  a  great  moral  defect,  that  can  only 
be  repaired  by  one  and  the  same  application. 
It  is  well  when  we  can  find  out  an  accor- 
dancy  between  the  actual  exhibition  of  hu- 
man nature  on  the  field  of  experience,  and 
the  representation  that  is  given  of  this  na- 
ture on  the  field  of  revelation.     Now,  the 
Bible  every  where  groups  the  individuals 
of  our  species,  into  two  general  and   dis- 
tinct classes,  and  assigns  to  each  of  them  its 
appropriate  designation.     It  tells  us  of  the 
vessels  of  wrath,   and   of  the  vessels  of 
mercy ;  of  the  travellers  on  a  narrow  path, 
and  on  a  broad  way;  of  the  children  of  this 
world,  and  the  children  of  light ;  and,  lastly, 
of  men  who  are  carnally  minded,  and  men 
who  are  spiritually  minded.     It  employs 
these  terms  in  a  meaning  so  extensive,  that 
by  each  couplet  of  them  it  embraces  all  in- 
dividuals.   There  is  no  separate  number  of 
persons,  forming  of  themselves  a  neutral 
class,  and  standing  without  the  limits  of  the 
two  others.     And  were  it  possible  to  con- 
ceive, that  human  nature,  as  it  exists  at  pre- 
sent in  the  world,  were  laid  in  a  map  before 
us,  you  would  see  no  intermediate  ground 
between  the  two  classes  which  arc  tints  con- 
trusted  in  the  Bible, — but  these  thrown  into 
two  distinct  regions,  with   one  clear  and 
vigorous  line  of  demarcation  between  them. 
We  often  read  of  this  line,  and  we  often 
read  of  the  transition  from  the  one  to  the 
other  side  of  it.     But  there  is  no  trace  of 
any  middle  department  to  be  met  with  in 
the  New  Testament.     The  alternative  has 
only  two  terms,  and  ours  must  be  the  one 
or  the  other  of  them.     And  as  surely  as  a 
day  is  coming,  when  all  the  men  of  our  as- 
sembled world  shall  be  found  on  the  right 
or  on  the  left  hand  of  the  throne  of  judg- 
ment— so  surely   do   the   carnal   and   the 
spiritual  regions  of  human    nature,  stand 
apart  from  each  other;  and  all  the  men 
who  are  now  living  on  the  surface  of  the 


84 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


world,  are  to  be  found  on  the  right,  or  on 
the  wrong  side,  of  the  line  of  demarcation. 
We  cannot  conceive,  then,  a  question  of 
mightier  interest,  than  the  situation  of  this 
line, — a  line  which  takes  its  own  steady 
and  unfaltering  way  through  the  thousand 
varieties  of  character  that  exist  in  the  world ; 
and  which  reduces  them  all  to  two  great, 
and  awfully  important  divisions.  It  marks 
off  one  part  of  the  species  from  the  other. 
We  are  quite  aware  that  the  terms  which 
are  employed  to  characterize  the  two  sets 
are  extremely  unfashionable;  and,  what  is 
more,  are  painfully  offensive  to  many  a 
mind,  whose  taste,  and  whose  habits,  have 
not  yet  been  brought  under  the  overpow- 
ering controul  of  God's  own  message  ex- 
pressed in  God's  own  language.  They  are 
such  terms  as  would  be  rejected  with  a  posi- 
tive sensation  of  disgust  by  many  a  mor- 
alist, and  would  be  thought  by  many  more, 
to  impart  the  blemish  of  a  most  hideous  de- 
formity, to  his  eloquent  and  philosophical 
pages.  It  is  curious  here  to  observe  how 
much  the  Maker  of  the  human  mind,  and 
the  mere  observer  of  the  human  mind,  dif- 
fer in  their  views  and  representations  of 
the  same  object.  But  when  told,  on  the 
highest  of  all  authority,  that  to  be  car- 
nally minded  is  death,  and  to  be  spiritually 
minded  is  life  and  peace,  we  are  compelled 
to  acknowledge  with  a  feeling  of  earnest- 
ness, greater  than  mere  curiosity  can  in- 
spire, that  the  application  of  these  terms, 
is  a  question  of  all  others  the  most  deeply 
affecting  to  the  fears  and  the  wishes  of  hu- 
manity. 

In  the  prosecution  of  this  question,  let 
me  attempt  to  bring  a  succession  of  charac- 
ters before  you,  most  of  which  must  have 
met  your  own  distinct  and  familiar  obser- 
vation ;  and  of  which,  while  exceedingly 
various  in  their  complexion,  we  hope  to 
succeed  in  convincing  you,  that  the  love  of 
God,  at  least,  is  not  in  them.  If  this  can 
be  made  out  against  them,  it  may  be  con- 
sidered as  experimentally  fixing  to  which 
of  the  two  great  divisions  of  humanity  they 
belong.  All  who  love  God,  may  have  bold- 
ness when  they  think  of  the  day  of  judg- 
ment, because,  like  unto  God,  who  himself 
is  love,  they  will  be  pronounced  meet  for 
the  enjoyment,  and  the  fellowship  of  him 
through  eternity.  And  they  who  want  this 
affection,  when  they  die  shall  be  turned 
into  hell.  They  shall  be  found  to  possess 
that  carnal  mind  which  is  enmity  against 
God.  So  that  upon  the  single  point  of 
Whether  they  possess  this  love  or  not, 
hinges  the  question  which  I  have  just  now 
started. — a  question  surely  which  it  were 
better  for  every  man  to  decide  at  the  bar 
of  conscience  now,  ere  it  comes  under  the 
review  of  that  dread  tribunal  which  is  to 
award  to  him  his  everlasting  habitation. 

I.  Let  us  first   offer  to  your  notice,   a 


man  living  in  the  grossness  of  animal  in- 
dulgence,— a  man,  the  field  of  whose  en- 
joyments is  altogether  sensual, — and  who, 
therefore,  in  addition  to  the  charge  he 
brings  down  upon  himself,  of  directly  vio- 
lating the  law  of  G,pd,  is  regarded  by  the 
admirers  of  what  is  tasteful  and  refined  in 
the  human  characters  a  loathsome  object 
of  contemplation.  There  is  something  more 
here  than  mere  wickedness  of  character  to 
excite  the  regret  or  detestation  of  the  godly. 
There  is  sordidness  of  character  to  excite  the 
disgust  of  the  elegant.  And  let  us  just  add 
one  feature  more  to  this  portrait  of  deform- 
ity. Let  us  suppose  the  man  in  question  to 
have  so  abandoned  himself  to  the  impulses 
of  selfishness,  that  no  feeling  and  no  prin- 
ciple whatever,  restrains  him  from  yielding 
to  its  temptations, — that  to  obtain  the  gra- 
tification he  is  in  quest  of,  he  can  violate 
all  the  decencies,  and  bid  away  from  him 
all  the  tendernesses  of  our  common  hu- 
manity,— that  he  has  the  hardihood  to  set 
the  terrors  of  the  civil  law  at  defiance, — 
and  that,  for  the  money  which  ministers  to 
every  earthly  appetite,  he  can  even  go  so 
far,  as  to  steel  his  heart  against  the  atrocity 
of  a  murder.  When  we  have  thus  set  be- 
fore you,  the  picture  of  one  feasting  on  the 
prey  of  his  inhuman  robberies,  we  have 
surely  brought  our  description  as  far  down 
in  the  scale  of  character,  as  it  can  well  be 
carried.  And  we  have  done  so,  on  purpose 
that  you  may  be  at  no  loss  to  assign  the 
place  which  belongs  to  him.  It  were  a 
monstrous  supposition  altogether,  that  either 
the  love  of  gratitude,  or  the  love  of  moral 
esteem  for  the  Deity,  were  to  be  found  in 
the  bosom  of  such  a  man.  He,  then,  of  all 
others,  is  not  spiritual  but  carnal ;  nor  do 
we  anticipate  a  single  dissenting  voice 
when  we  say,  that  whatever  be  the  doubts 
and  the  delusions  which  may  prevail  about 
men  of  another  aspect,  the  man  whose 
habits  and  pursuits  have  now  been  sketched 
to  you,  stands  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  line 
of  demarcation. 

We  are  far  from  saying,  that  a  man  of 
such  a  character  as  this  is  of  frequent  oc- 
currence in  society.  We  merely  set  him 
up  as  a  kind  of  starting-post,  for  the  future 
train  of  our  argument.  It  is  a  mighty  ad- 
vantage, in  every  discussion,  to  have  a  clear 
and  undisputed  outset, — and  we  trust,  that, 
if  thus  far  we  have  kept  cordially  by  the 
side  of  each  other,  we  shall  not  cast  out  by 
the  way,  in  the  progress  of  our  remaining 
observations. 

II.  Let  us  now  proceed,  then,  to  detach 
one  offensive  feature  from  the  character  of 
him,  whom  we  have  thus  set  before  you, 
as  a  compound  of  many  abominations. 
Let  us  leave  entire  all  his  dishonesty,  and 
all  his  devotedness  to  the  pleasures  of  sense, 
but  soften  and  transform  his  heart  to  such 
a  degree,  that  he  would  recoil  from  the 


XII.] 


perpetration  of  a  murder.  This  is  a  differ- 
ent portrait  from  the  one  which  we  formerly 
exhibited.  There  is  in  it  an  instinctive 
horror  at  an  act  of  violence,  which  did  not 
belong  to  the  other; — and  the  question  we 
have  now  to  put,  is,  Has  the  man  who  owns 
this  improved  representation,  become,  on 
this  single  difference,  a  spiritual  man  ?  We 
answer  this  question  by  another.  Is  the 
difference  that  we  have  now  assigned  to 
him,  due  to  the  love  of  God,  or  to  such  a 
principle  of  loyal  subjection  to  his  authority, 
as  this  love  is  sure  to  engender?  You  will 
not  call  him  spiritual  from  the  mere  exist- 
ence of  a  feeling  which  would  rise  spon- 
taneously in  his  heart,  even  though  the 
Father  of  spirits  were  never  thought  of. 
We  appeal  to  your  own  consciousness  of 
what  passes  within  you,  if  the  heart  do  not 
experience  the  movement  of  many  a  con- 
stitutional feeling,  altogether  unaccompa- 
nied by  any  reference  of  the  mind,  to  the 
love,  or  to  the  character,  or  even  to  the 
existence  of  God.  Are  you  not  quite  sen- 
sible, that  though  the  idea  of  a  God  lay  in 
a  state  of  dormancy  for  hours  and  for  days 
together,  many  of  the  relentings  of  nature 
would,  in  the  meanwhile,  remain  with  you? 
For  the  preservation  and  the  order  of  so- 
ciety, God  has  been  kind  enough  to  implant 
in  the  bosom  of  man,  many  a  natural  pre- 
dilection, and  many  a  natural  horror, — of 
which  he  feels  the  operation,  and  the  people 
of  his  neighbourhood  enjoy  the  advantage, 
at  the  very  time  that  one  and  all  of  them, 
unmindful  of  God,  are  walking  in  the  coun- 
sel of  their  own  hearts,  and  after  the  sight 
of  their  own  eyes.  He  has  done  the  same 
thing  to  the  inferior  animals.  He  has  en- 
dowed them  with  a  principle  of  attachment 
(o  their  offspring,  in  virtue  of  which,  they, 
generally  speaking,  would  recoil  from  the 
murder  of  their  young  with  as  determined 
an  abhorrence,  as  you  would  do  from  the 
murder  i>!'  a  fellow-creature.  You  would 
not  surely  say  of  the  irrational  instinct, 
that  because  amiable,  or  useful,  or  pleasing 
to  contemplate,  there  is  any  thing  spiritual 
in  the  impulse  it  communicates.  Then  do 
not  offer  a  violence  both  to  Scripture  and 
philosophy,  by  confounding,  in  the  mind 
of  man,  principles  which  are  distinct  from 
each  other.  Do  not  say,  that  he  is  spiritual, 
merely  because  he  is  moving  in  obedience 
to  his  constitutional  tendencies.  Do  not 
say,  thai  he  is  no1  carnal,  while  all  that  he 
has  done,  or  abstained  from  doing,  may  be 
done  or  abstained  from,  though  he  lived 
without  God  in  the  world.  And  go  not  to 
infer,  while  the  pleasures  of  sense  are  the 
idols  of  his  every  affection,  that  because  he 
would  shudder  to  purchase  them,  at  the 
expence  of  another's  blood,  he,  on  that 
single  account,  may  be  looked  on  as  a 
spiritual  man,  and  as  standing  on  the  right 
side  of  the  line  of  demarcation. 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


85 


III.  All  this  may  be  looked  upon,  as  too 
indisputable  for  argument.  And  yet  it  is 
the  very  principle  which,  if  carried  to  its 
fair  extent,  and  brought  faithfully  home  to 
the  conscience,  would  serve  to  convince  of 
ungodliness,  the  vast  majority  of  ihis  world's 
generations.  If  a  natural  recoil  from  mur- 
der, may  be  experienced  by  the  bosom,  in 
which  there  exists  no  love  to  God, — why 
may  not  this  natural  recoil  be  carried  still 
farther,  and  yet  the  love  of  God  be  just  as 
absent  from  the  bosom  as  before  ?  There  are 
other  dishonesties,  of  a  far  less  outrageous 
character,  than  that  by  which  you  would 
commit  an  act  of  depredation ;  and  other 
cruelties  far  less  enormous,  than  that  by 
which  you  would  imbrue  your  hand  in  an- 
other's blood, — which  still  the  generality  of 
men  would  revolt  from  constitutionally, 
and  that,  too,  without  the  movement  of  any 
affection  for  their  God,  or  even  so  much  as 
any  thought  of  him.  We  have  only  to  con- 
ceive the  softening  of  a  further  transforma- 
tion, to  take  place  on  the  man  with  whom 
we  set  out  at  the  beginning  of  our  argu- 
ment; and  he  may  thus  become,  like  the 
man  we  read  of  in  the  parable,  who  took 
comfort  to  himself  in  the  security,  that  he 
had  .goods  laid  up  for  many  years,  and  at 
the  same  time  is  not  charged  either  with 
violence  or  dishonesty  in  the  acquirement 
of  them.  He  is  charged  with  nothing  but 
a  devoted  attachment  to  wealth,  and  to  the 
pleasures  which  that  wealth  can  purchase. 
And  yet,  what  an  awful  reckoning  did  he 
come  under !  He  seems  to  have  been  just 
such  a  man  as  we  can  be  at  no  loss  to  meet 
with  every  day  in  the  range  of J our  fami- 
liar acquaintances, — enjoying  themselves  in 
easy  and  comfortable  abundance;  but  at  an 
obvious  and  unquestionable  distance  from 
any  thing  that  can  be  called  atrocity  of 
character.  There  is  not  one  of  them,  per- 
haps, who  would  not  recoil  from  an  act  of 
barbarity ;  and  who  would  not  be  moved 
with  honest  indignation,  at  the  tale  of  per- 
fidy, or  of  violence.  They  live  in  a  placid 
course  of  luxury,  and  good  humour ;  and 
we  are  far  from  charging  them  witb  any 
thing  which  the  world  calls  monstrous, — 
when  Ave  say,  that  the  Father  of  spirits  is 
unminded,  and  unregarded  by  them,  and 
that  the  good  things  of  the  world  are  their 
gods.  If  it  be  a  vain  superfluity  of  argu- 
ment to  prove,  that  a  man  may  not  be 
spiritual,  and  yet  be  endowed  with  such  a 
degree  of  natural  tenderness,  as  to  recoil 
from  the  perpetration  of  a  murder, — then 
it  is  equally  indisputable,  that  a  man  may 
not  be  spiritual,  though  endowed  with  such 
a  degree  of  natural  tenderness,  as  to  recoil 
from  many  lesser  acts  of  cruelty,  or  in- 
justice. In  other  words,  he  may  be  a  very 
fair  every-day  character;  and  if  it  be  so 
sure  a  principle,  that  a  man  may  not  be  a 
murderer,  and  yet  be  carnal,  then  let  one 


86 


DEPRAVITY  OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[sERM. 


and  all  of  you  look  well  to  your  own  se- 
curity ;  for  it  is  the  very  principle  which 
might  be  employed,  to  shake  the  thousands 
and  tens  of  thousands  of  ordinary  men,  out 
of  the  security  in  which  they  have  en- 
trenched themselves. 

IV.  But  to  proceed  in  this  work  of  trans- 
formation. Let  us  now  conceive  a  still 
more  exquisite  softening  of  affection  and 
tenderness,  to  be  thrown  over  the  whole  of 
our  imaginary  character.  We  thus  make 
another  step,  and  another  departure,  from 
the  original  specimen.  By  the  first  step, 
the  mind  is  made  to  feel  a  kind  of  revolting, 
at  the  atrocity  of  a  murder ;  and  the  cha- 
racter ceases  to  be  monstrous.  By  the 
second,  the  mind  is  made  to  share  in  all 
the  common  antipathies  of  our  nature,  to 
what  is  cruel  and  unfeeling ;  and  it  is  thus 
wrought  up  to  the  average  of  character 
which  obtains  in  soctety.  By  the  third 
step  the  mind  is  endowed  with  the  warmer 
and  more  delicate  sympathies  of  our  nature, 
and  thus  rises  to  a  more  exalted  place  in 
the  scale  of  character.  It  becomes  posi- 
tively amiable.  You  look  to  him,  who  owns 
all  these  graceful  sensibilities,  even  as  the 
Saviour  looked  unto  the  young  man  of  the 
gospels,  and,  like  the  Saviour,  you  love  him. 
Who  can,  in  fact,  refrain  from  doing  homage 
to  such  a  lovely  exhibition  of  all  that  is 
soothing  in  humanity  ;  and  whether  he  be 
employed  in  mingling  his  tears,  and  his 
charities,  with  the  unfortunate,  or  in  shed- 
ding a  gentle  lustre  over  the  retirement  of 
his  own  family,  even  orthodoxy  herself, 
stern  and  unrelenting  as  she  is  conceived 
to  be,  cannot  find  it  in  her  heart  to  frown 
upon  him.  But,  feeling  is  one  thing,  and 
truth  is  another  ;  and  when  the  question  is 
put,  Do  all  these  sensibilities,  heightened 
and  adorned  as  they  are,  on  the  upper  walks 
of  society,  constitute  a  spiritual  man? — it 
is  not  by  a  sigh,  or  an  aspiration  of  tender- 
ness, that  we  are  to  answer  it.  We  are 
put  m  a  cool  exercise  of  the  understand- 
ing, and  we  cannot  close  it  against  the  fact, 
that  rfll  these  feelings  may  exist  apart  from 
the  love  of  God,  and  apart  from  the  reli- 
gious principle, — that  the  idea  of  a  God 
may  be  expunged  from  the  heart  of  man, 
and  yet  that  heart  be  still  the  seat  of  the 
same  constitutional  impulses  as  ever, — that 
in  reference  to  the  realities  of  the  unseen 
and  spiritual  world,  the  mind  may  be  an 
entire  blank,  and  there,  at  the  same  time, 
be  room  in  it  for  the  play  of  kindly  and  be- 
nevolent, emotions.  We  commit  these  truths 
to  your  own  experience,  and  if  carried  faith- 
fully to  the  conscience,  they  may  chase  away 
another  of  the  delusions  which  encompass 
it.  There  is  no  fear  of  me,  for  I  have  a 
feeling  heart,  is  a  plea  which  they  put  a 
decisive  end  to.  This  feeling  heart,  if  un- 
accompanied by  any  sense  of  God,  is  no 
better  evidence  of  a  spiritual  man,  than  is 


the  circulation  of  the  blood.  We  are  far  from 
refusing  it  the  homage  of  our  tenderness.  We 
feel  a  love  to  it,  but  we  will  not  make  a  lie 
about  it.  We  can  make  no  more  of  it,  than 
Scripture  and  experience  enable  us  to  do. 
And,  if  it  be  true,  that  a  man's  heart  may 
be  the  habitual  seat  of  kind  affections,  while 
an  affection  for  God  is  habitually  away 
from  it,  if  it  be  true  that  no  man  can  be 
destitute  of  this  affection,  and  at  the  same 
time  be  a  spiritual  man, — if  it  be  true,  that 
he  who  is  not  spiritual,  is  carnal,  and  that 
the  carnally-minded  cannot  inherit  the 
kingdom  of  God  ; — then  the  necessity  lies 
upon  us :  he  is  still  in  the  region  and 
shadow  of  death  ;  and  if  he  refuse  the  argu- 
ments and  invitations  of  the  gospel,  calling 
him  over  to  another  region  than  that  which 
he  now  occupies,  he  must  just  be  numbered 
among  those  more  beauteous  wrecks  of  our 
fallen  nature,  which  are  destined  to  perish 
and  be  forgotten. 

V.  But  let  us  go  still  farther.  Let  us 
suppose  the  heart  to  be  furnished,  not 
merely  with  the  finest  sensibilities  of  our 
nature,  but  with  its  most  upright  and 
honourable  principles.  Let  us  conceive  a 
man  whose  palse  beats  high  with  the  pride 
of  integrity;  whose  every  word  carries 
security  along  with  it;  whose  faithfulness 
in  the  walks  of  business  has  stood  the  test 
of  many  fluctuations ;  who,  amid  all  the 
varieties  of  his  fortune,  has  nobly  sustained 
the  glories  of  an  untainted  character;  and 
whom  we  see  by  the  salutations  of  the 
market-place,  to  be  acknowledged  and  re- 
vered by  all,  as  the  most  respectable  of  the 
citizens.  Now,  which  of  the  two  great  re- 
gions of  human  character  shall  we  make  him 
to  occupy?  This  question  depends  upon 
another.  May  all  this  manly  elevation  of 
soul,  and  of  sentiment,  stand  disunited  in 
the  same  heart,  with  the  influence  of  the 
authority  of  God,  or  with  that  love  of  God 
which  is  the  keeping  of  his  commandments? 
The  discerning  eye  of  Hume  saw  that  it 
could;  and  he  tells  us  that  natural  honesty 
of  temper  is  a  better  security  for  the  faith- 
fulness of  a  man's  doings,  than  all  the  au- 
thority of  religious  principle  over  him.  We 
deny  the  assertion ;  but  the  distinction  be- 
tween the  two  principles  on  which  it  pro- 
ceeds, is  indisputable.  There  is  a  principle 
of  honour,  apart  in  the  human  mind  alto- 
gether, from  any  reference  to  the  realities 
of  a  spiritual  world.  It  varies  in  the  in- 
tensity of  its  operation,  with  different  indi- 
viduals. It  has  the  chance  of  being  more 
entire,  when  kept  aloof  from  the  tempta- 
tions of  poverty  :  and  therefore  it  is,  that 
we  more  frequently  meet  with  it  in  the 
upper  and  middling  classes  of  life.  And 
we  can  conceive  it  so  strong  in  its  original 
influence,  or  so  grateful  to  the  possessor 
from  the  elevating  consciousness  which 
goes  along  with  it,  or  so  nourished  by  the 


XII.J 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


87 


voice  of  an  applauding  world,  as  to  throw 
all  the  glories  of  a  romantic  chivalry  over 
the  character  of  him,  with  whom  God  is  as 
much  unthought  of,  as  he  is  unseen.  We 
are  far  from  refusing  our  admiration.  But 
we  are  saying,  that  the  Being  who  brought 
this  noble  specimen  of  our  nature  into 
existence ;  who  fitted  his  heart  for  all  its 
high  and  gen<  rous  emotions;  who  threw  a 
theatre  around  him  for  the  display  and  ex- 
ercise of  his  fine  moral  accomplishments; 
who  furnished  each  of  his  admirers  with  a 
heart  to  appreciate  his  worth,  and  a  voice  to 
pour  into  his  ear  the  flattering  expression  of 
it ; — the  Being  whose  rfand  upholds  and  per- 
petuates the  whole  of  this  illustrious  exhi- 
bition, may  all  the  while  be  forgotten,  and 
unnoticed  as  a  thing  of  no  consequence. 
We  are  merely  saying,  that  the  man  whose 
heart  is  occupied  with  a  sentiment  of 
honour,  and  is  at  the  same  time  unoccu- 
pied with  a  sense  of  Him,  who  is  the  first 
and  greatest  of  spiritual  beings,  is  not  a 
spiritual  man.  But,  if  not  spiritual,  we  are 
told  in  the  Bible,  that  there  are  only  two 
terms  in  the  alternative,  and  he  must  be 
carnal :  and  the  God  whom  he  has  disre- 
garded in  time,  will  find,  that  in  the  praises 
and  enjoyments  of  time,  he  has  gotten  all 
his  reward,  and  that  he  owes  him  no  re- 
compense in  eternity. 

W  e  appeal  to  the  state  of  the  public  mind 
some  years  ago,  on  the  subject  of  Africa, 
as  a  living%emplification  of  the  whole  ar- 
gument. "  Love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself," 
says  the  Bible ;  and  this  precept,  coming 
with  all  the  force  of  its  religious  influence 
upon  the  hearts  of  men,  who  carry  their 
cts  to  the  will  of  a  spiritual  and  un- 
Grod,  have  urjjed  them  on,  and  with 
noble  effect,  to  the  abolition  of  the  deadliest 
mischief  that  was  ever  let  loose  upon  the 
3.  And  whether  we  look  to  the  Qua- 
kers, who  originated  the,  cause,  or  to  him 
wiiu  pioneered  the  cause,  or  to  him  who 
plead  the  cause,  or  to  him  who  has  impreg- 
nated with  such  a  moral  charm,  the  atmo- 
sphere of  lus  country,  that  no  human  crea- 
ture can  breathe  of  its  air  without  taking  in 
nerous  inspiration  of  liberty  along 
with  it,-- we  cannot  fail  to  observe,  that  one 
and  all  of  them  speak  the  language,  and 
evince  the  tastes,  and  are  not  ashamed  to 
own  their  most  entire  and  decided  pre- 
iiri  nee  for  the  objects  of  spiritual  men. 
There  is  an  evident  sense  of  religious  duty, 
which  gives  the  tone  of  Christianity,  and 
throws  the  aspect  of  sacredness  over  the 
whole  of  their  doings;  and  the  unbaffled 
sverance  of  the  many  years  they  had 
to  struggle  with  difficulties,  and  to  spend 
in  the  weariness  of  ever  recurring  disap- 
pointments, bears  striking  proof  to  the  un- 
quenchable energy  of  the  Christian  princi- 
ple within  them.  But  who  can  deny  the 
large  and  important  contributions  which 


came  in  upon  the  cause  from  other  quar- 
ters? We  hold  it  quite  consistent  with  the 
truth  of  human  nature,  to  aver,  that  in  this  en- 
lightened country,  other  principles  may  have 
lent  their  aid  to  the  cause,  and,  apart  from 
Christianity  altogether,  may  have  sent  a  com- 
manding influence  into  the  hearts  of  some 
of  its  ablest  and  most  efficient  supporters. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  presence  of  Chris- 
tian principle  to  quell  the  impassioned  fer- 
vour of  our  desires  after  right  objects;  but 
the  absence  of  Christian  principle  does  not 
necessarily  extinguish  this  fervour.  When 
we  look  back  to  the  animating  ferment  of 
the  British  public,  on  the  subject  of  Africa, 
we  will  ever  contend,  that  a  feeling  of  obli- 
gation to  a  spiritual  being,  was  the  ingre- 
dient which  set  it  a  going,  and  which  kept 
it  a  going.  BufcPwho  can  deny  the  exist- 
ence, and  the  powerful  operation  of  other 
ingredients  ?  An  instinctive  horror  at  cruel- 
ty, is  a  separate  and  independent  attribute 
of  the  heart,  and  sufficient  of  itself  to  in- 
spire the  deepest  tones  of  that  eloquence 
which  sounded  in  parliament,  and  issued 
from  the  press,  and  spread  an  infection  over 
all  the  provinces  of  the  empire,  and  mus- 
tered around  the  cause,  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands  of  our  rallying  population, 
and  gave  such  an  energy  to  the  public 
voice,  that  all  the  resisting  jealousies  and 
interests  of  the  country  were  completely 
overborne; — and  hence  the  interesting 
spectacle,  of  carnal  and  spiritual  men  lend- 
ing their  respective  energies  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  one  object,  and  securing,  by 
their  success,  a  higher  name  for  Britain  in 
the  world,  than  all  the  wisdom  of  her  coun- 
sels, and  all  the  pride  of  her  victories  can 
ever  achieve  for  her. 

Were  it  our  only  aim  to  carry  the  acqui- 
escence of  the  understanding,  there  might 
be  a  danger  in  affirming,  and  urging,  and 
illustrating  to  excess,  the  position,  that  we 
want  to  establish  among  you ; — and  it 
were,  perhaps,  better,  to  limit  ourselves  to 
one  simple  delivery  of  the  argument.  But 
our  aim  is,  if  possible,  to  affect  the  con- 
science, and  to  accomplish  this  object,  not 
with  one,  but  with  many  individuals.  And 
when  it  is  reflected,  that  one  developement 
of  the  principle  may  come  home  more  for- 
cibly to  some  man's  experience  than  an- 
other, we  must  beg  to  be  excused  for  one 
recurrence  more  to  a  topic,  so  pregnant  of 
consequence  to  your  everlasting  interests. 
There  is  a  sadly  meagre  and  frivolous  con- 
ception of  human  sinfulness,  that  is  preva- 
lent amongst  you, — and  it  goes  to  foster 
this  delusion,  that  when  we  look  abroad  on 
the  face  of  society,  we  must  be  struck  with 
the  diversity  of  character  which  obtains 
among  the  individuals  who  compose  it. 
Some  there  are,  who,  in  the  estimation  of 
the  world,  are  execrable  for  their  crimes, 
but  others,  who,  in  the  same  estimation 


88 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


are  illustrious  for  their  virtues.  In  that 
general  mass  of  corruption,  to  which  we 
would  reduce  our  unfortunate  species,  is 
there,  it  may  be  asked,  no  solitary  example 
of  what  is  pure,  and  honourable,  and  love- 
ly 1  Do  we  never  meet  with  the  charity 
which.melts  at  suffering ;  Avith  the  honesty 
whicli  disdains,  and  is  proudly  superior 
to  falsehood;  with  the  active  beneficence 
which  gives  to  others  its  time  and  its  la- 
bour; with  the  modesty  which  shrinks 
from  notice,  and  gives  all  its  sweetness 
to  retirement;  with  the  gentleness  which 
breathes  peace  to  all,  and  throws  a  beauti- 
ful lustre  over  the  walks  of  domestic  socie- 
ty ?  If  we  find  these  virtues  to  be  some- 
times exhibited,  is  not  this  an  argument 
against  the  doctrine  of  such  an  entire,  and 
unmitigated  depravity,  as  we  have  been 
contending  for  ?  Will  it  not  serve  to  re- 
deem humanity  from  that  sweeping,  indis- 
criminate charge  of  corruption,  which  is 
so  often  advanced  against  it,  in  all  the 
pride  and  intolerance  of  orthodoxy  ?  What 
better  evidence  can  be  given  of  our  love 
to  God,  than  our  adherence  to  his  law? 
And  are  not  the  virtues  which  we  have  just 
now  specified,  part  of  that  law  ?  Are  not 
they  the  very  virtues  which  his  authority 
requires  of  us,  and  which  imparts  such  a 
charm  to  the  morality  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment? 

Now,  it  carries  us  at  once  to  the  bottom 
of  this  delusion,  to  observe,  that  though  the 
religious  principle  can  never  exist,  without 
the  amiable  and  virtuous  conduct  of  the 
New  Testament ;  yet,  that  conduct  may,  in 
some  measure,  be  maintained,  without  the 
religious  principle.  A  man  may  be  led  to 
precisely  the  same  conduct,  on  the  impulse 
of  many  different  principles.  He  may  be 
gentle,  because  it  is  a  prescription  of  the 
divine  law : — or,  he  may  be  gentle,  because 
he  is  naturally  of  a  peaceful,  or  indolent 
constitution; — or,  he  may  be  gentle,  be- 
cause he  sees  it  to  be  an  amiable  graceful- 
ness, with  which  he  wishes  to  adorn  his 
own  character ; — or,  he  may  be  gentle,  be- 
cause it  is  the  ready  way  of  perpetuating 
the  friendship  of  those  around  him ; — or, 
he  may  be  gentle,  because  taught  to  ob- 
serve it,  as  a  part  of  courtly  and  fashiona- 
ble deportment, — and  what  was  implanted 
by  education,  may  come,  in  time,  to  be 
confirmed,  by  habit  and  experience.  Now, 
it  is  only  under  the  first  of  these  principles, 
that  there  is  any  religion  in  gentleness. 
The  other  principles  may  produce  all  the 
outward  appearance  of  this  virtue,  and 
much  even  of  its  inward  complacency,  and 
yet  be  as  distinct  from  the  religious  princi- 
ple, as  they  are  distinct  from  one  another. 
To  infer  the  strength  of  the  religious  prin- 
ciple, from  the  taste  of  the  human  mind 
for  what  is  graceful  and  lovely  in  charac- 
ter, would  just  be  as  preposterous,  as  to  in- 


fer it  from  the  admiration  of  a  fine  picture, 
or  a  cultivated  landscape.  They  are  not 
to  be  confounded.  They  occupy  a  differ- 
ent place,  even  in  the  classifications  of  phi- 
losophy. We  do  not  deny,  that  the  admi- 
ration of  what  is  fine  in  character,  is  a 
principle  of  a  higher  order,  than  a  taste  for 
the  sensualities  of  the  epicure.  But  they, 
one  and  all  of  them,  stand  at  a  wide  dis- 
tance from  the  religious  principle:  and 
whether  it  be  taste,  or  temper,  or  the  love 
of  popularity,  or  the  high  impulse  cf  hon- 
ourable feeling,  or  even  the  love  of  truth, 
and  a  natural  principle  of  integrity, — the 
virtues  in  question  may  be  so  unconnected 
with  religion,  as  to  flourish  in  the  world, 
and  be  rewarded  by  its  admiration,  even 
though  God  were  expunged  from  the  be- 
lief, and  immortality  from  the  prospects, 
of  the  species. 

The  virtues,  then,  to  which  the  enemies 
of  our  doctrine  make  such  a  confident  ap- 
peal, may  have  no  force  whatever  in  the 
argument, — because,  properly  speaking, 
they  may  not  be  exemplifications  of  the 
religious  principle.  If  you  do  what  is  vir- 
tuous, because  God  tells  you  so,  then,  and 
then  only,  do  you  give  us  a  fair  example 
of  the  authority  of  religion  over  your  prac- 
tice. But,  if  you  do  it  merely  because  it 
is  lovely,  because  it  is  honourable,  or  be- 
cause it  is  a  fine  moral  accomplishment, — ■„ 
we  will  not  refuse  the  testimony of  our  ad- 
miration, but  we  cannot  subflnt  to  such 
an  error,  either  of  conception,  or  cf  lan- 
guage, as  to  allow  that,  there  is  any  reli- 
gion in  all  this.  These  qualities  have  our 
utmost  friendship ;  and  we  give  the  most 
substantial  evidence  of  this,  when,  instead 
of  leaving  them  to  their  own  solitary  claims 
upon  the  human  heart,  we  call  in  the  aid 
of  religion,  and  support  them  by  its  autho- 
rity: "Whatsoever  things  are  pure,  or  love- 
ly, or  honest,  or  of  good  report ;  if  there 
be  any  virtue,  if  there  be  any  praise,  think 
of  these  things."  But  we  will  not  admit, 
that  the  mere  circumstance  of  their  being 
lovely,  supersedes  the  authority  of  religion ; 
nor  can  we  endure  such  an  injustice  to  the 
Author  of  all  that  is  graceful,  both  in 
nature  and  morality,  as  that  the  native 
charms  of  virtue  should  usurp,  in  our  ad- 
miration, the  place  of  God — of  him  who 
gave  to  virtue  all  its  charms,  and  formed  the 
heart  of  man  to  love  and  to  admire  them. 

Be  not  deceived,  then,  into  a  rejection  of 
that  doctrine  whicli  forms  the  great  basis 
of  a  sinner's  religion,  by  the  specimens  of 
moral  excellence  which  are  to  be  met  with 
in  society ;  or  by  the  praise  which  your 
own  virtues  extort  from  an  applauding 
neighbourhood.  Virtue  may  exist,  and  in 
such  a  degree  too,  as  to  constitute  it  a  love- 
ly object  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  but  if 
there  be  in  it  no  reference  of  the  mind  to 
the  will  of  God,  there  is  no  religion  in  it. 


XII.] 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


89 


Such  virtue  as  this  has  its  reward  in  its  na- 
tural consequences,  in  the  admiration  of 
others,  or  in  the  delights  of  conscious  satis- 
faction. But  we  cannot  see  why  God  will 
x-eward  it  in  the  capacity  of  your  master, 
when  his  service  was  not  the  principle  of 
it,  and  you  were  therefore  not  acting  at  all 
the  part  of  a  servant  to  him, — ivor  do  we 
see  how  lie  can  reward  it  in  the  capacity 
of  your  judge,  when,  in  the  whole  process 
of  virtuous  feeling,  and  virtuous  sentiment, 
and  virtuous  conduct,  you  carried  in  your 
heart  no  reference  whatever,  for  a  single 
moment,  to  him  as  your  lawgiver.  We  do 
not  deny  that  there  are  many  such  exam- 
ples of  virtue  in  the  world ;  but  then  we  in- 
sist upon  it,  that  they  cannot  be  put  down 
to  the  account  of  religion.  They  often 
may,  and  actually  do,  exist  in  a  state  of 
entire  separation  from  the  religious  princi- 
ple ;  and  in  that  case,  they  go  no  farther 
than  to  prove  that  your  taste  is  unvitiated, 
that  your  temper  is  amiable,  that  your  so- 
cial dispositions  promote  the  peace  and 
welfare  of  society;  and  they  will  be  re- 
warded with  its  approbation.  Now,  it  is 
well  that  you  act  your  part  as  a  member  of 
society;  and  religion,  by  making  this  one 
of  its  injunctions,  gives  us  the  very  best 
security,  that  wherever  its  influence  pre- 
vails, it  will  be  done  in  the  most  perfect 
manner.  But  the  point  we  labour  to  im- 
press is,  that  a  man  ^tay  be  what  we  all 
understand  by  a  good  member  of  society, 
without  the  authority  of  God,  as  his  legis- 
lator, being  cither  recognized  or  acted  upon. 
We  do  not  say  that  his  error  lies  in  being 
a  good  member  of  society.  This,  though 
only  a  circumstance  at  present,  is  a  very 
fortunate  one.  The  error  lies  in  his  having 
discarded  the  authority  of  God,  or  rather, 
in  his  never  having  admitted  the  influence 
of  that  authority  over  his  heart,  or  his 
practice.  We  want  to  guard  him  against 
the  delusion,  that  the  principle  which  he 
has,  can  ever  be  accepted  asiV  a  substitute 
for  the  principle  he  has  not, — or,  that  the 
very  highest  sense  of  duty,  which  his  situ- 
ation as  a  member  of  society,  impresses 
upon  his  feelings;  will  ever  be  received  as 
an  atonement  for  wanting  that  sense  of 
duty  to  God,  which  he  ought  to  feel  in  the 
far  more  exalted  capacity  of  his  servant, 
and  candidate  for  his  approbation.  We 
stand  on  the  high  ground,  that  he  is  the 
subject  of  the  Almighty, — nor  shall  we 
shrink  from  declaring  the  whole  extent  of 
the  principle.  Let  his  path  in  society  be 
ever  so  illustrious,  by  the  virtues  which 
adorn  it ;  let  every  word,  and  every  per- 
formance, be  as  honourable  as  a  proud 
sense  of  integrity  can  make  it;  let  the  sa- 
lutations of  the  market-place  mark  him  out 
as  the  most  respectable  of  the  citizens; 
and  the  gratitude  of  a  thousand  families 
ring  the  praises  of  his  beneficence  to  the 
12 


world :  If  the  actor  in  this  splendid  exhi- 
bition, carry  in  his  mind  no  reference  to 
the  authority  of  God,  we  do  not  hesitate  to 
pronounce  him  unworthy, — nor  shall  all 
the  execrations  of  generous,  but  mistaken 
principle,  deter  us  from  putting  forth  our 
hand  to  strip  hiin  of  his  honours.  What ! 
is  the  world  to  gaze  in  admiration  on  this 
fine  spectacle  of  virtue ;  and  are  we  to  be 
told  that  the  Being,  who  gave  siich  facul- 
ties to  one  of  his  children,  and  provides 
the  theatre  for  their  exercise, — that  the  Be- 
ing, who  called  this  moral  scene  into  ex- 
istence, and  gave  it  all  its  beauties, — that 
he  is  to  be  forgotten,  and  neglected  as  of 
no  consequence  ?  Shall  we  give  a  deceit- 
ful lustre  to  the  virtues  of  him  who  is  un- 
mindful of  his  God, — and  with  all  the 
grandeur  of  eternity  before  us,  can  we 
turn  to  admire  those  short-lived  exertions, 
which  only  shed  a  fleeting  brilliancy  over 
a  paltry  and  perishable  scene  ?  It  is  true, 
that  he  who  is  counted  faithful  in  little 
will  also  be  counted  faithful  in  much ;  and 
when  God  is  the  principle  of  his  fidelity, 
the  very  humblest  wishes  of  benevolence 
will  be  rewarded.  But  its  most  splendid 
exertions  without  this  principle,  have  no 
inheritance  in  heaven.  Human  praise,  and 
human  eloquence,  may  acknowledge  it; 
but  the  Discerner  of  the  heart  never  will. 
The  heart  may  be  the  seat  of  every  amia- 
ble feeling,  and  every  claim  which  comes 
to  it  in  the  shape  of  human  misery  may 
find  a  welcome;  but  if  the  love  of  God  be 
not  there,  it  is  not  right  with  God, — and  he 
who  owns  it,  will  die  in  his  sins :  he  is  in  a 
state  of  impenitency. 

Having  thus  disposed  of  those  virtues 
which  exist  in  a  state  of  independence  on 
the  religious  principle,  we  must  be  forced 
to  recur  to  the  doctrine  of  human  depravity, 
in  all  its  original  aggravation.  Man  is  cor- 
rupt, and  the  estrangement  of  his  heart  from 
God,  is  the  decisive  evidence  of  it.  Every 
day  of  his  life  the  first  commandment  of 
the  law  is  trampled  on, — and  it  is  that  com- 
mandment on  which  the  authority  of  the 
whole  is  suspended.  His  best  exertions  are 
unsound  in  their  very  principle;  and  as  the 
love  of  God  reigns  not  within  him,  all  that 
has  usurped  trie  name  of  virtue,  and  de- 
ceived us  by  its  semblance,  must  be  a  mock- 
ery and  a  delusion. 

We  shall  conclude  with  three  observa- 
tions: First,  there  is  nothing  more  justly 
fitted  to  revolt  the  best  feelings  of  the  human 
heart  against,  orthodoxy,  than  when  any 
tiling  is  said  toils  defence,  which  tends  to 
mar  the  credit  or  the  lustre  of  a  moral 
accomplishment  so  lovely  as  benevolence. 
lid  it  be  observed,  then,  that  substantial 
benevolence  is  rarely,  if  ever,  to  be  found 
apart,  from  piety, — and  that  piety  is  but  the 
hypocrisy  of  a  name,  when  benevolence,  in 
all  the  unweariedness  of  its  well  doing,  does 


90 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


[SERM. 


not  go  along  with  it.  Benevolence  may 
make  some  brilliant  exhibitions  of  herself 
without  the  instigation  of  the  religious  prin- 
ciple. But  in  these  cases  you  seldom  have 
the  touchstone  of  a  painful  sacrifice, — and 
you  never  have  a  spiritual  aim,  after  the 
good  of  our  imperishable  nature.  It  is  easy 
to  indulge  a  constitutional  feeling.  It  is 
easy  to  make  a  pecuniary  surrender.  It  is 
easy  to  move  gently  along,  amid  the  visits 
and  the  attentions  of  kindness,  when  every 
eye  smiles  welcome,  and  the  soft  whispers 
of  gratitude  minister  their  pleasing  reward, 
and  flatter  you  into  the  delusion  that  you 
are  an  angel  of  mercy.  But  give  us  the 
benevolence  of  him,  who  can  ply  his  faithful 
task  in  the  face  of  every  discouragement, — 
who  can  labour  in  scenes  where  there  is  no 
brilliancy  whatever  to  reward  him, — whose 
kindness  is  that  sturdy  and  abiding  princi- 
ple which  can  weather  all  the  murmurs  of 
ingratitude,  and  all  the  provocations  of  dis- 
honesty,— who  can  find  his  way  through 
poverty's  putrid  lan^s,  and  depravity's  most 
nauseous  and  disgusting  receptacles, — who 
can  maintain  the  uniform  and  placid  tem- 
per, within  the  secrecy  of  his  own  home, 
and  amid  the  irksome  annoyances  of  his 
own  family, — who  can  endure  hardships 
as  a  good  soldier  of  Christ  Jesus, — whose  hu- 
manity acts  with  as  much  vigour  amid  the 
reproach,  and  the  calumny,  and  the  con- 
tradiction of  sinners,  as  when  soothed  and 
softened  by  the  poetic  accompaniment  of 
weeping  orphans  and  interesting  cottages, — 
and,  above  all,  who  labours  to  convert  sin- 
ners, to  subdue  their  resistance  of  the  gos- 
pel, and  to  spiritualize  them  into  a  meetness 
for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints.  We  main- 
tain, that  no  such  benevolence,  realizing  all 
these  features,  exists,  without  a  deeply  seated 
principle  of  piety  lying  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
Walk  from  Dan  to  Beersheba,  and,  away 
from  Christianity,  and  beyond  the  circle  of 
its  influences,  there  is  positively  no  such 
benevolence  to  be  found.  The  patience,  the 
meekness,  the  difficulties  of  such  a  benevo- 
lence, cannot  be  sustained  without  the  in- 
fluence of  a  heavenly  principle, — and  when 
all  that  decks  the  theatre  of  this  world  is 
withdrawn,  what  else  is  there  but  the  mag- 
nificence of  eternity,  to  pour  a  glory  over 
its  path,  and  to  minister  encouragement  in 
the  midst  of  labours  unnoticed  by  human 
eye,  and  unrewarded  by  human  testimony'? 
Even  the  most  splendid  enterprizes  of  be- 
nevolence, which  the  world  ever  witnessed, 
can  be  traced  to  the  operation  of  what  the 
world  laughs  at,  as  a  quakerish  and  metho- 
distical  piety.  And  we  appeal  to  the  abo- 
lition of  the  slave  trade,  and  the  still  nobler 
abolition  of  vice  and  ignorance,  which  is 
now  accomplishing  amongst  the  uncivilized 
countries  of  the  earth,  for  the  proof,  that 
in  good  will  to  men,  as  well  as  glory  to 
God,  they  are  the  men  of  piety  who  bear 


away  the  palm  of  superiority  and  of  tri- 
umph. 

But,  Secondly,  If  all  Scripture  and  all 
observation,  are  on  the  side  of  our  text, 
should  not  this  be  turned  by  each  of  us  into 
a  personal  concern  1  Should  it  not  be  taken 
up,  and  pursued,  as  a  topic  in  which  we  all 
have  a  d*p  individual  interest?  Should  it 
not  have  a  more  permanent  hold  of  us',  than 
a  mere  amusing  general  speculation?  Are 
not  prudence,  and  anticipation,  and  a  sense 
of  danger,  all  linked  with  the  conclusion  we 
have  attempted  to  press  upon  you?  In  one 
word,  if  there  be  such  a  thing  as  a  moral 
government  on  the  part  of  God, — if  there 
be  such  a  thing  as  the  authority  of  a  high 
and  divine  legislature, — if  there  De  such  a 
thing  as  a  throne  in  heaven,  and  a  judge  sit- 
ting on  that  throne, — should  not  the  ques- 
tion, What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?  come 
with  all  its  big  and  deeply  felt  significancy 
into  the  heart  and  conscience  of  every  one 
of  us  ?  We  know  that  there  is  a  very  loose 
and  general  security  upon  this  subject, — that 
the  question,  if  it  ever  be  suggested  at  all, 
is  disposed  of  in  an  easy,  indolent,  and  su- 
perficial way,  by  some  such  presumption, 
as  that  God  is  merciful,  and  that  should  be 
enough  to  pacify  us.  But  why  recur  to  any 
presumption,  for  the  purpose  of  bringing 
the  question  to  a  settlement,  when,  upon 
this  very  topic,  we  are  favoured  with  an 
authoritative  messagf  from  God, — when  an 
actual  embassy  has  come  from  him,  and 
that  on  the  express  errand  of  reconcilia- 
tion?— when  the  records  of  this  embassy 
have  been  collected  into  a  volume,  within 
the  reach  of  all  who  will  stretch  forth  their 
hand  to  it; — when  the  obvious  expedient  of 
consulting  this  record  is  before  us?  And 
surely,  if  what  God  says  of  himself,  is  of 
■higher  signification  than  what  we  think 
him  to  be,  and  if  he  tell  us  not  merely  that 
he  is  merciful,  but  that  there  is  a  particular 
way  in  which  he  chooses  to  be  so ; — nothing 
remains  for  ys  but  submissively  to  learn 
that  way,  and  obediently  to  go  along  with 
it.  But  he  actually  tells  us,  that,  there  is  no 
other  name  given  under  heaven,  whereby 
man  can  be  saved,  but  the  name  of  Jesus. 
He  tells,  that  it  is  only  in  Christ,  that  he 
has  reconciled  the  world  unto  himself.  He 
tells  us,  that  our  alone  redemption  is  in  him 
whom  God  hath  set  forth  to  be  a  propitiation 
through  faith  in  his  blood, — that  he  might 
be  just,  while  the  justifier  of  him  who  be- 
lieveth  in  Jesus ; — and  surely,  we  must  either 
give  up  the  certainty  of  the  record,  or  count 
these  to  be  faithful  sayings,  and  worthy  of 
all  acceptation. 

Lastly,  The  question  may  occur,  after 
having  established  the  fact  of  human  cor- 
ruption, and  recommended  a  simple  acqui- 
escence in  the  Saviour  for  forgiveness,  What 
becomes  of  the  corruption  after  this?  Must 
we  just  be  doing  with  it  as  an  obstinate, 


XIII.] 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


91 


peculiarity  of  our  nature,  bearing  down  all 
our  powers  of  resistance,  and  making  every 
struggle  with  it  hopeless  and  unavailing? 
For  the  answer  to  this  question,  we  commit 
you,  as  before,  to  the  record.  He  who  is  in 
Christ  Jesus  is  a  new  creature.  Sin  has  no 
longer  dominion  over  him.  That  very  want 
which  constituted  the  main  violence  of  the 
disease,  is  made  up  to  him.  He  wanted  the 
love  of  God  ;  and  this  love  is  shed  abroad  in 
his  heart  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  wanted 
the  love  of  his  neighbour;  but  God  enters 
into  a  covenant  with  him,  by  which  he  puts 
this  law  in  his  heart,  and  writes  it  in  his 
mind.  The  spirit  is  given  to  them  who  ask 
it  in  faith,  and  the  habitual  prayer,  of,  Sup- 
port me  in  the  performance  of  this  duty, — 
or,  Carry  me  in  safety  through  this  trial  of 
my  heart  and  of  my  principles, — is  heard 
with  acceptance,  and  answered  with  power. 
The  power  of  Christ  is  made  to  rest  on  those 
who  look  to  him ;  and  they  will  find  to  be 
their  experience  what  Paul  found  to  be  his, — 
they  will  be  able  to  do  all  things  through 
Christ  strengthening  them.  Now,  the  ques- 
tion we  have  to  put  is, — Tell  us,  if  all  this 


sound  strange,  and  mysterious,  and  foreign 
to  the  general  style  of  your  conceptions  ? 
Then  be  alarmed  for  your  safety.  The 
things  .you  thus  profess  to  be  strange  to  you, 
are  not  the  peculiar  notions  of  one  man,  or 
the  still  more  peculiar  phraseology  of  an- 
other. They  are  the  very  notions  and  the 
very  phraseology  of  the  Bible, — and  you, 
by  your  antipathy  or  disregard  to  them, 
bring  yourselves  under  precisely  the  same 
reckoning  with  God,  that  you  do  with  a  dis- 
tant acquaintance,  whom  you  insult  by  re- 
turning his  letter  unopened,  or  despise,  by 
suffering  it  to  lie  beside  you  unread  and  un- 
attended to.  In  this  indelible  word  of  God, 
you  will  meet  with  the  free  offer  of  forgive- 
ness for  the  past,  and  a  provision  laid  before 
you,  by  which  all  who  make  use  of  it,  are 
carried  forward  to  amendment,  and  pro- 
gressive virtue  for  the  future.  They  are 
open  to  all,  and  at  the  taking  of  all ;  but  in 
proportion  to  the  frankness,  and  freeness, 
and  universality  of  the  offer,  will  be  the 
severity  of  that  awful  threatening  to  them 
who  despise  it.  How  shall  they  escape,  if 
they  neglect  so  great  a  salvation  ? 


SERMON  XIII. 

The  natural  Enmity  of  the  Mind  against  God. 

"The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God." — Romans  viii.  7. 


We  should  be  blinding  ourselves  against 
the  light  of  experience,  did  we  deny  of 
many  of  our  acquaintances,  that  they  have 
either  brought  into  the  world,  or  have  ac- 
quired, by  a  natural  process  of  education, 
such  a  gentleness  of  temper,  such  a  docility, 
such  a  taste  for  the  amiable  and  the  kind, 
such  an  honourable  sense  of  integrity,  such 
a  feeling  sympathy  for  the  wants,  and  mis- 
fortunes of  others,  that  it  would  not  be  easy, 
and  what  is  more,  we  may  venture  to  say, 
from  the  example  of  our  Saviour,  who,  when 
he  looked  to  the  young  man,  loved  him, 
that  it  would  positively  not  be  right,  to  with- 
hold from  them  our  admiration  and  our 
tenderness.  Still  it  were  a  violation  of  all 
scriptural  propriety  in  language,  to  say  of 
them  that  they  were  not  carnal,  or  not  car- 
nally minded.  All,  by  the  very  signification 
of  the  term,  arc  carnal,  whose  minds  either 
retain  their  original  constitution,  or  have  un- 
dergone no  other  transforming  process  than 
a  mere  process  of  natural  education.  Some 
minds  are  in  these  circumstances,  more 
agreeable  to  look  upon  than  others,  just  as 
some  faces  are  more  agreeable  than  others, 
to  the  eye.  Each  mind  has  its  own  pecu- 
liar character,  just  as  each  face  has  its  own 
set  of  features,  and  its  own  complexion. 


But  as  all  the  varieties  in  the  latter,  from  ex- 
quisite beauty  to  most  revolting  deformity, 
do  not  exclude  from  any,  the  one  and 
universal  attribute  of  decay, — so  neither 
may  all  the  constitutional  varieties  in  the 
former,  from  the  most  sordid  to  the  most 
naturally  upright  and  amiable,  exclude  the 
possession  of  some  one  and  universal  at- 
tribute ;  and  it  may  be  the  very  attribute 
assigned  to  nature  in  the  text — even  hostility 
against  God. 

Let  us  first  offer  some  remarks  on  the 
affirmation  of  the  text,  that  the  carnal  mind 
is  enmity  against  God, — and  then  shortly 
consider  how  it  is  that  the  gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ  suits  its  applications  to  this  great 
moral  disease. 

I.  It  appears  a  very  presumptuous  at- 
tempt, on  the  part  of  a  human  interpreter, 
when  the  object  which  he  proposes,  and 
which  he  erects  into  a  separate  head  of 
discussion,  is  to  prove  the  assertion  of  the 
text.  Should  not  the  very  circumstance  of 
its  being  the  assertion  of  the  text,  be  proof 
enough  for  you?  On  what  better  founda- 
tion can  y»ur  belief  be  laid  than  on  the 
testimony  of  God?  and  when  we  come  to 
understand  the  meaning  of  the  thing  testi- 
fied, is  not  the  bare  fact  of  God  being  the 


92 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


[_SERM. 


witness  of  it,  sufficient  ground  for  its  cre- 
dibility to  rest  upon  ?  Shall  man's  reason- 
ing carry  a  greater  authority  along  with  it 
than  God's  declaration?  Is  your  faith  to 
depend  on  the  success  or  the  failure  of  his 
argument?  Whether  he  succeed  in  esta- 
blishing the  truth  of  the  assertion  or  not, 
upon  independent  reasonings  of  his  own, — 
remember  that  by  reading  it  out  in  his  text, 
he  has  already  come  forward  with  an  ar- 
gument more  conclusive  than  any  which 
his  ingenuity  can  devise.  And  yet,  how 
often  do  your  convictions  lie  suspended  on 
the  ability  of  the  preacher,  and  on  the 
soundness  of  his  demonstrations  ?  You  re- 
fuse to  believe  truth,  plainly  set  before  you 
in  the  Bible,  because  the  minister  has  failed 
in  making  out  his  point.  Now,  the  truth 
of  the  point  in  question  may  have  already 
received  its  decisive  settlement,  from  the 
text  delivered  in  your  hearing.  We  may 
try,  and  take  our  own  way  of  bringing  the 
truth  of  your  enmity  against  God,  close 
and  home  upon  your  consciences.  But,  if 
there  be  truth  in  all  the  sayings  of  the 
Bible,  enough  has  been  already  said  to  un- 
dermine the  security  of  your  fancied  attain- 
ments. It  is  said,  that  in  our  nature  there 
is  a  rooted  and  an  embodied  character  of 
hostility  to  our  Maker.  This  should  make 
the  wisest  and  most  sufficient  among  you 
feel  that  you  are  poor  indeed, — and  let  other 
expedients,  to  press  home  the  melancholy 
truth  fail,  or  be  effectual  as  they  may,  this 
is  surely  enough  to  convince  and  to  alarm 
you. 

But,  though  we  cannot  add  to  the  truth 
of  God,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  what  the 
Apostle  calls  making  that  truth  manifest  to 
your  consciences.  Your  own  observation 
may  attest  the  very  same  truth,  which  God 
announces  to  you  in  his  word.  And  if  it 
be  a  truth,  respecting  the  state  of  your  own 
heart,  this  agreement  between  what  God 
says  you  are,  and  what  you  find  yourselves 
to  be,  is  often  most  powerfully  instrumental 
in  reclaiming  men  to  the  acknowledgment 
of  the  truth,  and  bringing  their  heart  under 
its  influence.  This  is  the  very  argument 
which  compelled  the  faith  of  the  woman 
of  Samaria.  "  Come  and  see  the  man  which 
told  me  all  the  things  that  ever  I  did;  is 
not  this  the  Christ  ?"  It  is  the  very  argu- 
ment by  which  many  an  unbeliever  was 
convinced  in  the  Apostle's  days.  The  se- 
crets of  his  heart  were  made  manifest,  and 
so  falling  down  on  his  face,  he  worshipped 
God,  and  reported  that  God  was  in  them, 
of  a  truth.  We  cannot  make  the  assertion 
in  the  text  stronger  than  God  has  made  it 
already ;  but  we  may  be  able  to  guide  your 
observations  to  that  which  is  the  subject  of 
it — even  to  your  own  mind.  We  may  lead 
you  to  attend  more  closely,  and  to  view 
more  distinctly,  the  state  of  your  minds, 
than  you  have  ever  yet  done.    If  your  find- 


ing of  the  matter  shall  agree  with  God's 
saying  about  it,  it  may  make  the  truth  of 
the  text  tell  with  energy  upon  your  con- 
sciences ; — and  it  were  well  for  one  and  all 
of  us,  that  we  obtained  a  more  overwhelm- 
ing sense  of  our  necessities  than  we  have 
ever  yet  gotten  ;  that  we  saw  ourselves  in 
those  true  colours  of  deformity  which  re- 
ally belong  to  us;  that  the  inveteracy  of 
our  disease  as  sinners  were  more  known 
and  more  felt  by  us ;  that  we  could  lift  up 
the  mantle  of  delusion,  which  the  accom- 
plishments of  nature  throw  over  the  carnal 
mind,  and  by  which  they  spread  a  most 
bewildering  gloss  over  all  the  rebelliousness 
and  ingratitude  of  the  inner  man.  Could 
we  but  make  you  feel  your  need  and  your 
helplessness  as  sinners, — could  we  chase 
away  from  you  the  pride  and  the  security 
of  your  fancied  attainments ;  could  we  lead 
you  to  mourn  and  be  in  heaviness,  under  a 
sense  of  your  alienations  and  idolatries, 
and  risings  of  hatred  against  the  God  who 
created  and  who  sustains  you  ; — then  might 
we  look  for  the  overtures  of  the  gospel  being 
more  thankfully  listened  to,  more  cordially 
embraced,  more  rejoiced  in  as  the  alone 
suitable  remedy  to  the  wants  and  the  sore- 
nesses of  your  fallen  nature, — then  might 
we  look  for  the  attitude  of  self-dependence 
being  broken  down,  and  for  all  trust,  and 
all  glorying,  being  transferred  from  our- 
selves, and  laid  upon  Jesus  Christ,  and  him 
crucified. 

It  is  no  proof  of  love  to  God  that  we  do 
many  things,  and  that  too  with  the  willing 
consent  of  the  mind,  the  performance  of 
which  is  agreeable  to  his  law.  If  the  same 
thing  might  be  done  upon  either  of  two 
principles,  then  the  doing  of  it  may  only 
prove  the  existence  of  one  of  these  princi- 
ples, while  the  other  has  no  presence  or 
operation  in  the  mind  whatever.  I  do  not 
steal,  and  the  reason  of  it  may  be  either 
that  I  love  God,  and  so  keep  his  command- 
ments, or  it  may  be  that  I  have  honourable 
feelings,  and  would  spurn  at  the  disgrace- 
fulness  of  such  an  action.  This  is  only  one 
example,  but  the  bare  statement  of  it  serves 
for  a  thousand  more.  It  lets  us  in  at  once 
to  the  decisive  fact  that  there  are  many 
principles  of  action  applauded,  and  held 
in  reverence,  and  most  useful  to  society, 
and  withal  urging  us  to  the  performance  of 
what,  in  the  matter  uf  it,  is  agreeable  to  the 
law  of  God,  which  may  have  a  practical 
ascendency  over  a  man  whose  heart  is 
alienated  from  the  love  of  God.  Propose 
the  question  to  yourself,  Would  not  I  do 
this  good  thing,  or  abstain  from  this  evil 
thing,  though  God  had  no  will  in  this  mat- 
ter? If  you  would,  then,  put,  not  down 
what  is  altogether  due  to  other  principles 
to  the  principle  of  love  to  God,  or  a  desire 
of  pleasing  him.  The  principle  upon  which 
you  have  acted  may  be  respectable,  and 


XIII.] 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


93 


honourable,  and  amiable.  We  are  not  dis- 
puting all  this.  We  are  only  saying,  that 
it  is  not  the  love  of  God ;  and  should  we 
hear  any  one  of  you  assert,  that  I  have 
nothing  to  reproach  myself  with,  and  that 
I  give  every  body  their  own,  and  that  I 
possess  a  fair  character  in  society,  and  have 
done  nothing  to  forfeit  it,  and  that  I  have 
my  share  of  generosity,  and  honour,  and 
tenderness,  and  civility,  our  only  reply  is, 
that  this  may  be  very  true.  You  may  have 
a  very  large  share  of  these  and  of  other 
estimable  principles,  but  along  with  the 
possession  of  these  many  things,  you  may 
lack  one  thing,  and  that  one  thing  may  be 
the  love  of  God.  An  enlightened  discerner 
of  the  heart  may  look  into  you,  and  say, 
with  our  Saviour  in  the  text,  "  I  know  you 
that  you  have  not  the  love  of  God  in  you." 

It  is  no  test  whatever  of  your  love  to 
God,  that  you  tolerate  him,  when  he  calls 
upon  you  to  do  the  things  which  your  na- 
tural principles  incline  you  to  do,  and  which 
you  would  have  done  at  any  rate.  But 
when  he  claims  that  place  in  your  affec- 
tions which  you  give  to  many  of  the  objects 
of  the  world, — when  he  puts  in  for  that 
share  of  your  heart  which  you  give  to 
wealth,  or  pleasure,  or  reputation  among 
men, — then  is  not  God  a  weariness?  and 
does  not  the  inner  man  feel  impatience  and 
dislike  at  these  grievous  exactions ;  and  when 
the  will  of  God  thwarts  the  natural  current 
of  your  tastes  and  employments,  is  not  God, 
at  the  moment  of  urging  that  will,  with  all 
the  natural  authority  which  belongs  to  him, 
a  positive  offence  to  you  ? 

How  would  you  like  the  visit  of  a  man 
whose  presence  broke  up  some  arrangement 
that  you  bad  set  your  heart  upon ;  or  mar- 
red the  enjoyment  of  some  favourite  scheme 
that  you  were  going  to  put  into  execution? 
Would  not  you  hate  the  visit?  and  if  it  were 
often  repeated, — if  the  disappointments  you 
received  from  this  cause  were  frequent  and 
perpetual. — if  you  saw  a  systematic  design 
of  thwarting  you  by  these  galling  and  nu- 
merous interruptions,  would  not  you  also 
cordially  hate  the  visitor,  and  give  the  most 
substantial  evidence  of  your  hatred,  too,  by 
shunning  him,  or  shutting  him  out?  Now, 
is  not  God  just  such  a  visitor  ?  O  how  many 
favourite  schemes  of  enjoyment  would  the 
thought  of  him,  and  of  his  will,  if  faithfully 
admitted  to  the  inner  chambers  of  the  mind, 
put  to  flight !  How  many  fond  calculations 
be  given  up  about  the  world,  the  love  of 
which  is  opposite  to  the  love  of  the  Father. 
How  many  trifling  amusements  behooved 
to  be  painfully  surrendered,  if  a  sense  of 
God's  will  were  to  tell  upon  the  conscience 
with  all  the  energy  that  is  due  to  it.  How 
many  darling  habits  abandoned,  if  the  whole 
man  were  brought  under  the  dominion  of 
this  imperious  visitor, — how  many  affec- 
tions torn  away  from  the  objects  on  which 


they  are  now  fastened,  if  his  presence  were 
at  all  times  attended  to, and  he  was  regarded 
with  that  affection  which  he  at  all  times 
demands  of  us ! 

This  may  explain  a  fact,  which  we  'fear 
must  come  near  to  the  conscience  of  many 
a  respectable,  man,  and  that  is.  the  recoil 
which  he  has  often  experienced,  as  if  from 
some  object  of  severe  and  unconqu  Table 
aversion,  when  the  preacher  urges  upon 
his  thoughts  some  scriptural  representation 
either  of  the  will  or  the  character  of  God. 
Or  take  this  fact  in  another  way,  and  in 
which  it  presents  itself,  if  not  more  strik- 
ingly, at  least  more  habitually;  and  that  is, 
the  undeniable  circumstance  of  God  being 
shut  out  of  his  thoughts  for  the  great  ma- 
jority of  his  time,  and  him  feeling  the  same 
kind  of  ease  at  the  exclusion,  as  when  he 
shuts  the  door  on  the  most  unwelcome  of  his 
visitors.  The  reason  is,  that  the  inner  man, 
busied  with  other  objects,  would  positively 
be  offended  at  the  intrusion  of  the  thought 
of  God.  It  is  because,  to  admit  him,  with 
all  his  high  claims  and  spiritual  require- 
ments into  your  mind,  would  be  to  disturb 
you  in  the  enjoyment  of  objects  which  are 
better  loved  and  more  sought  after  than  he. 
It  is  because  your  heart  is  occupied  with 
idols  that  God  is  shut  out  of  it.  It  is  be- 
cause your  heart  is  after  another  treasure. 
It  is  because  your  heart  is  set  upon  other 
things.  Whether  it  be  wealth,  or  amuse- 
ment, or  distinction,  or  the  ease  and  the 
pleasures  of  life,  we  pretend  not  to  know ; 
but  there  is  a  something  which  is  your  god, 
to  the  exglusion  of  the  great  God  of  heaven 
and  earth.  The  Being  who  is  upholding 
you  all  the  time,  and  in  virtue  of  whose 
preserving  hand,  you  live,  and  think,  and 
enjoy,  is  all  the  while  unminded  and  unre- 
garded by  you.  You  look  upon  him  as  an 
interruption.  It  is  of  no  consequence  to  the 
argument  what  the  occupation  of  your  heart 
be,  if  it  is  such  an  occupation  as  excludes 
God  from  it.  It  may  be  what  the  world 
calls  a  vicious  occupation, — the  pursuits  of 
a  dishonest,  or  the  debaucheries  of  a  profli- 
gate life, — and,  in  this  case,  the  world  has 
no  objection  to  stigmatize  you  with  enmity 
against  God.  Or  it  may  be  what  the  world 
calls  an  innocent  occupation — amusement 
to  make  you  happy,  work  to  earn  a  subsist- 
ence, business  to  establish  a  liberal  provi- 
sion for  your  families.  But  your  heart  may 
be  so  given  to  it  that  God  is  robbed  of  his 
portion  of  your  heart  altogether.  Or  it  may 
be  what  the  world  calls  an  honourable  oc- 
cupation,— the  pursuit  of  eminence  in  the 
walks  of  science  or  of  patriotism  ;  and  still 
there  may  be  an  exclusion,  or  a  hatred  of 
the  God  who  puts  in  for  all  things  being 
done  to  his  glory.  Or  it  may  be  what  the 
world  calls  an  elegant  occupation. — even 
that  of  a  mind  enamoured  with  the  taste- 
fulness  of  literature ;  but  it  may  be  so  ena- 


94 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[sERM. 


moured  with  this,  that  the  God  who  created 
your  mind,  and  all  the  tastes  which  are 
within  it,  and  all  the  objects  which  are  with- 
out it,  and  which  minister  to  its  most  ex- 
quisite gratification,; — this  God,  we  say,  may 
be  turned  away  from  with  a  feeling  of  the 
most  nauseous  antipathy,  and  you  may  give 
the  most  substantial  evidence  of  your  hatred 
to  him,  by  ridding  your  thoughts  of  him  al- 
together. Or,  lastly,  it  may  be  what  the 
world  calls  a  virtuous  occupation,  even  that 
of  a  mind  bustling  with  the  full  play  of  its 
energies,  among  enterprises  of  charity  and 
plans  of  public  good.  Yet  even  here,  won- 
derful as  you  may  think  it,  there  may  be  a 
total  exclusion  and  forgetfulness  of  God ; 
and,  while  the  mind  is  filled  and  gratified 
with  a  rejoicing  sense  of  its  activity  and  its 
usefulness,  it  may  be  merely  delighting  itself 
with  a  constitutional  gratification, — and  God 
the  author  of  that  constitution,  be  never 
thought  of, — or  if  thought  of  according  to 
the  holiness  of  his  attributes,  and  the  nature 
of  that  friendship,  opposite  to  the  friendship 
of  the  world,  Avhich  he  demands  of  us,  and 
the  kind  of  employment  which  forms  the 
reward  and  the  happiness  of  his  saints  in 
eternity,  even  the  praise  and  the  contem- 
plation of  himself, — if  thought  of,  we  say, 
according  to  this  his  real  character,  and 
these  the  real  requirements  that  he  lays  upon 
us, — even  the  man  to  whom  the  world  yields 
the  homage  of  virtue  may  think  of  his  God 
with  feelings  of  offensiveness  and  disgust. 

There  is  nothing  monstrous  in  all  this,  to 
the  men  of  our  world,  seeing  that  they  have 
each  a  share  in  that  deep  and  lurking  un- 
godliness, which  has  -both  so  vitiated  our 
nature,  and  so  blinded  all  who  inherit  this 
nature,  against  a  sense  of  its  enormity.  But 
only  conceive  how  it  must  be  thought  of, 
and  how  the  contemplation  of  it  must  be 
felt,  among  those  who  can  look  on  character 
with  a  spiritual  and  intelligent  estimation. 
How  must  the  pure  eye  of  an  angel  be 
moved  at  such  a  spectacle  of  worthless- 
ness, — and  surely,  in  the  records  of  heaven, 
this  great  moral  peculiarity  of  our  outcast 
race  must  stand  engraven  as  that,  which  of 
all  others,  has  the  character  of  guilt  most 
nakedly  and  most  essentially  belonging  to 
it.  That  the  bosom  of  a  thing  formed  should 
feel  cold  or  indifferent  to  him  who  formed 
it, — that  not  a  thought  or  an  image  should 
be  so  unwelcome  to  man  as  that  of  his 
Maker,  that  the  creature  should  thus  turn 
round  on  its  Creator,  and  eye  disgust  upon 
him, — that  its  every  breath  should  be  en- 
venomed with  hatred  against  him  who  in- 
spired it, — or,  if  it  be  not  hatred,  but  only 
unconcern,  or  disinclination,  that  even  this 
should  be  the  real  disposition  of  a  fashioned 
and  sustained  being,  towards  the  hand  of 
his  Preserver, — there  is  a  a  perversity  here 
which  time  may  palliate  for  a  season,  but 
which,  under  a  universal  reign  of  justice, 


must  at  length  be  brought  out  to  its  ade- 
quate condemnation.  And  on  that  day, 
when  the  earth  is  to  be  burnt  up,  and  all  its 
flatteries  shall  have  subsided,  will  it  be  seen 
of  many  a  heart  that  rejoiced  in  the  ap- 
plause and  friendship  of  this  world,  that, 
alienated  from  the  love  of  God,  it  was  in- 
deed in  the  gall  of  bitterness,  and  in  the 
bond  of  iniquity. 

Nor  does  it  palliate  the  representation 
which  we  have  now  given,  that  a  God,  in 
the  fancied  array  of  poetic  loveliness — that 
a  God  of  mere  natural  perfection,  and  with- 
out one  other  moral  attribute  than  the  single 
attribute  of  indulgence — that  a  God,  di- 
vested of  all  which  can  make  him  repul- 
sive to  sinners,  and,  for  this  purpose,  shorn 
of  all  those  glories,  which  truth  and  au- 
thority, and  holiness,  throw  around  his 
character — that  such  a  God  should  be  idol- 
ized at  times  by  many  a  sentimentalist.  It 
would  form  no  deduction  from  our  enmity 
against  the  true  God,  that  we  gave  an  occa- 
sional hour  to  the  worship  of  a  graven 
image,  made  with  our  own  hands — and  it 
is  just  of  as  little  significancy  to  the  argu- 
ment, that  we  feel  an  occasional  glow  of 
affection  or  of  reverence,  towards  a  fictitious 
being  of  our  own  imagination.  If  there  be 
truth  in  the  Bible,  it  is  there  where  God  has 
made  an  authentic  exhibition  of  his  nature, 
— and  if  God  in  Christ  be  an  offence  to  you 
— if  you  dislike  this  way  of  approach — if 
you  shrink  from  the  contemplation  of  that 
Being,  who  bids  you  sanctify  him  in  your 
hearts,  and  who  claims  such  a  preference 
in  your  regard,  as  shall  dispossess  your  af- 
fections for  all  that  is  earthly — if  you  have 
no  relish  for  the  intercourse  of  prayer,  and 
of  spiritual  communion  with  such  a  God — 
if  your  memory  neither  love  to  recal  him, 
nor  your  fancy  to  dwell  upon  him,  nor  he 
be  the  being  with  whom  you  greatly  de- 
light yourself,  the  habitation  to  which  you 
resort  continually, — then  be  assured,  that 
amid  the  painted  insignificancy  of  all  your 
other  accomplishments,  your  heart  is  not 
right  with  God  ;  and  he  who  is  the  Father 
of  your  existence,  and  of  all  that  gladdens 
it,  may  still  be  to  you  a  loathing  and  an 
abomination. 

Neither  does  it  palliate  the  representation 
which  we  have  n'ow  offered,  that  we  do 
many  things  with  the  direct  object  of  doing 
that  which  is  pleasing  to  God.  It  is  true, 
there  cannot  be  love  where  there  is  no  de- 
sire to  please ;  but  it  is  as  true,  that  there 
may  be  a  desire  to  please  where  there  is  no 
love.  Why,  I  may  both  hate  and  fear  the 
man,  whom  I  may  find  it  very  convenient 
to  please ;  and  to  secure  whose  favour,  I 
may  practice  a  thousand  arts  of  accommo- 
dation and  compliance.  I  may  comply  by 
action — but  instead  of  complying  with  my 
will,  I  may  abominate  the  necessity  which 
constrains  me.    I  may  be  subject  to  his 


XIII.j 


DEPRAVITY    OF    HUMAN    NATURE. 


95 


pleasure  in  my  person,  and  in  my  perform- 
ances— but  you  would  not  say,  while  hatred 
rankled  within  me,  that  I  was  subject  to  him 
with  my  mind.  A  sovereign  may  overrule 
the  humours  of  a  rebellious  province,  by 
the  presence  of  his  resistless  military — but 
you  would  not  say  that  there  was  any  loy- 
alty in  this  forced  subordination.  He  may 
compel  the  bondage  of  their  actual  services 
— but  you  would  not  say,  that  it  was  in 
this  part  of  his  dominions,  where  the  prin- 
ciple of  subjection  to  him  existed  in  the 
minds  of  the  people.  We  have  already  af- 
firmed, that  though  our  will  went  along  with 
a  number  of  performances,  which  in  the 
matter  of  them  were  agreeable  to  God's 
law — this  was  far  from  an  unfailing  indica- 
tion of  love  to  God ;  for  there  may  be  a 
thousand  other  constitutional  principles, 
the  residence  and  operation  of  which  in  the 
heart  may  give  rise  to  these  performances, 
while  there  was  an  utter  distaste,  and  hos- 
tility on  our  part  to  God.  They  may  be 
done,  not  because  God  wills  the  doing,  but 
because  the  doing  falls  in  with  our  humour, 
or  our  interest,  or  our  vanity,  or  our  in- 
stinctive gratification.  But  now  we  are  pre- 
pared to  go  farther,  and  say,  that  they  may 
be  done,  because  God  wills  the  doing,  and 
yet  there  may  be  an  utter  want  of  subjec- 
tion in  the  mind,  to  the  law  of  God.  The 
terror  of  his  power  may  constrain  you  to 
many  acts  of  obedience,  even  as  the  call, 
"  Flee  from  the  coming  wrath,"  told  on  the 
disciples  of  John  the  Baptist.  But  obedience 
may  be  rendered  to  all  the  requirements  of 
this  prophet.  Thieves  and  swearers,  and 
sabbath-breakers,  may,  under  the  fear  of  the 
coming  vengeance,  give  up  their  respective 
enormities,  and  yet  their  minds  be  alto- 
gether carnal,  and  utterly  destitute  of  sub- 
jection to  the  law  of  God.  There  may 
be  the  obedience  of  the  hand  while  there  is 
the  gall  of  bitterness  in  the  heart,  at  the 
necessity  which  constrains  it.  It  may  not 
be  the  consenting  of  the  mind,  to  the  law 
of  him  whom  you  delight  to  please  and  to 
honour.  Now,  this  is  the  service  for  which 
it  is  the  aim  of  Christianity  to  prepare  you. 
It  is  by  putting  that  law,  which  was  graven 
on  tables  of  stone,  upon  the  tables  of  your 
heart,  that  it  enables  you  to  yield  that  obe- 
dience which  is  acceptable  to  God.  He  is 
grieved  at  the  reluctancy  of  your  services. 
No  performances  can  satisfy  him,  while 
your  heart  remains  in  shut  and  shielded 
alienation  against  him.  What  he  wants, 
is  to  gain  the  friendship  and  the  confi- 
dence of  his  creatures;  and  he  feels  all  the 
concern  of  a  wounded  and  mortified  fti- 
ther  when  he  knocks  at  the  door  of  your 
heart  and  finds  its  affections  to  be  away 
from  him.  He  condescends  to  plead  the 
matter,  and  with  the  tenderness  of  a  dis- 
appointed father,  does  he  say,  "Wherein 
have  I  wearied  you,  O  children  of  Israel, 


testify  against  me?;'  You  ma)r  fear  him; 
you  may  heap  sacrifices  upon  his  altar 
you  may  b.ring  the  outer  man  to  something 
like  a  slavish  obedience,  at  his  bidding,  but 
till  your  heart  be  subdued,  by  that  great 
process,  which  all  who  arc  his  spiritual  sub- 
jects must  undergo,  you  are  carnal,  and 
you  do  not  love  him.  Your  obedience  is 
like  a  body  without  a  soul.  The  very  prin- 
ciple which  gives  it  all  its  value,  is  wanting. 
It  is  this,  which  turns  the  whole  to  bitter- 
ness. It  is  this,  which,  with  all  the  bustling 
activity  of  your  services,  keeps  you  dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins.  It  is  this  which  mars 
every  religious  performance,  and  imparts 
the  character  of  rebelliousness  to  every  one 
item,  in  the  list  of  your  plausible  and  osten- 
tatious duties.  There  is  not  one  of  them 
which  is  not  accompanied  with  an  act  of 
disobedience,  and  that  too,  to  the  first  and 
greatest  commandment,  by  which  we  are 
called  upon  to  love  the  Lord  with  all  our 
heart,  strength,  and  soul.  Though  the  hand 
should  be  subject, — though  the  mouth 
should  be  subject, — though  all  the  organs 
of  the  outer  man  should  be  subject;  yet  it 
availeth  nothing,  if  the  will  of  the  mind  is 
not  subject.  I  could  sell  all  my  goods  to 
feed  the  poor.  I  could  compel  my  hand 
to  sign  an  order  to  that  effect. — and  I  could 
keep  my  hand  from  reversing  that  order 
till  it  was  executed.  But  all  this  I  may  do 
says  Paul,  and  yet  have  nothing,  because  I 
have  not  charity.  It  is  not  the  act  of  well- 
doing to  your  neighbour,  but  a  principle  of 
love  to  your  neighbour,  on  which  God 
stamps  the  testimony  of  his  approbation. 
In  like  manner,  it  is  not  the  .act  of  well- 
doing to  God,  but  the  principle  of  love  to 
God,  which  he  values  ; — and  if  this  be  with- 
held from  him,  you  are  carnal ;  and  with 
all  your  painful  and  multiplied  attempts  at 
obedience,  your  mind  is  not  subject  to  the 
law  of  God. 

We  shall  conclude,  at  present,  with  two 
short  reflections. 

First,  If  any  of  you  are  convinced  of  the 
justness  of  the  representations  which  we 
have  now  given,  you  will  perceive  that 
your  guilt  in  the  sight  of  Cod,  may  be  of  a 
far  deeper  and  more  alarming  kind,  than 
men  are  generally  aware  of.  And  such  a 
view  of  the  matter  may  be  quite  intolerable 
to  him  who  nauseates  the  peculiarities  of 
the  gospel, — to  him  who  has  a  contempt  for 
the  foolishness  of  that  preaching,  of  which 
the  great  burden  is  Jesus  Christ,  and  him 
crucified, — to  him,  in  a  word,  whom  the 
true  description  of  our  moral  disease,  must 
terrify  or  offend, — seeing  that  he  carries 
a  distaste  in  his  heart  toward  the  alone 
remedy,  by  which  the  disease  can  be  met 
and  extirpated. 

But  secondly,  There  is  another  class  of 
people,  whom  such  a  view  of  the  actual 
state  of  human  nature  ought  to  tranquillize. 


95 


DEPRAVITY    OF    HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


by  bringing  tbeir  minds  out  of  perplexity, 
into  a  state  of  firm  and  confident  decision. 
There  are  often  in  a  congregation,  a  set  of 
hearers  not  yet  shut  up  into  the  faith,  but 
approaching  towards  it, — with  a  growing 
taste  for  the  Christianity  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, but  without  a  full  and  a  final  acqui- 
escence in  it, — with  an  opening  and  an 
enlarging  sense  of  the  importance  of  the 
gospel,  but  still  halting  between  two  opi- 
nions respecting  it ;  who,  in  particular,  are 
not  sure  where  their  sole  dependence  for 
salvation  should  be  placed,  whether  singly 
upon  their  own  performances,  or  singly 
upon  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  or  jointly 
upon  both.  Now,  we  trust  that  the  lesson 
of  our  text  may  have  the  effect  with  some, 
of  bringing  this  unsettled  account  more 
speedily  to  its  termination.  You  may  have 
hitherto,  perhaps,  been  under  the  impres- 
sion, that  the  condition  of  man  was  not  just 
so  bad  as  to  require  a  Saviour,  who  must 
undertake  the  whole  of  his  cure,  and  bring 
about  the  whole  of  his  salvation.  You  have 
attempted  to  share  with  the  Saviour  in  the 
matter  of  your  redemption.  Instead  of 
looking  upon  it  with  the  eye  of  the  Apostle, 
as  being  all  of  grace,  or  all  of  works,  you 
have  in  some  way  or  other,  attempted  a 
compromise  between  them ;  and  this  has 
the  undoubted  effect  of  keeping  you  at  a 
distance  from  Christ.  You  have  not  felt 
your  entire  need  of  him,  and  therefore  you 
have  not  leaned  in  close  and  constant  de- 
pendence upon  him.  But  let  the  torch  of  a 
spiritual  law  be  lifted  over  your  characters, 
and  through  the  guise  of  its  external  de- 
cencies reveal  to  you  the  mountain  of  ini- 
quity within ;  let  the  deformity  of  the  heart 
be  made  known,  and  you  become  sensible 
of  the  fruitlessness  of  every  endeavour,  so 
long  as  the  consent  of  a  willing  cordiality  is 
withheld  from  the  person  and  authority  of 
God ;  let  the  utter  powerlessness  of  all 
your  doings,  be  contrasted  with  the  per- 
versity of  your  stubborn  and  unmanageable 
desires,  and  the  case  is  seen  in  all  its  help- 


lessness ; — you  become  desperate  of  salva- 
tion in  one  way,  and  you  are  led  to  look  for 
it  in  another  way.  The  question,  whether 
salvation  is  of  grace  or  of  works,  receives 
its  most  decisive  settlement; — when  thus 
driven  away  from  one  term  of  the  alterna- 
tive, you  are  compelled,  as  your  only  re- 
source, to  the  other  term.  You  feel  that 
nothing  else  will  do  for  your  acceptance 
with  God,  but  your  acceptance  of  the  of- 
fered Saviour.  You  stand  at  the  foot  ef 
the  cross, — you  make  an  absolute  surrendw 
of  yourself  to  the  terms  of  the  gospel. 

And  we  know  not  a  more  blissful  or  a 
more  memorable  event,  in  the  history  of 
the  human  soul,  than,  when  convinced  that 
there  is  no  other  righteousness  than  in  the 
merits,  and  no  other  sanctification  than  in 
the  grace  of  the  Saviour,  it  henceforth  glo- 
ries only  in  his  cross ;  and  now,  that  every 
other  expedient  of  reformation  has  been  tried, 
and  failed  of  its  accomplishment,  it  takes  to 
the  remaining  one  of  crying  mightily  to  God 
and  pressing,  at  a  throne  of  grace,  the  sup- 
plication of  the  Psalmist,  "  Create  a  clean 
heart,  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me.5 

One  thing  is  certain ;  you  are  welcome 
at  this  moment,  to  lay  hold  of  the  righteous- 
ness of  God,  in  Christ  Jesus ;  you  are  wel 
come,  at  this  moment,  to  the  use  of  his  pre- 
vailing name,  in  your  prayers  to  the  Father 
you  are  welcome,  at  this  moment,  to  the 
plea  of  his  meritorious  obedience,  and  of 
his  atoning  death:  and  you  are  welcome, 
at  this  moment,  to  the  promise  of  the  Spirit, 
given  unto  all  who  believe,  whereby  the 
enmity  of  their  carnal  minds  will  be  done 
away, — God  will  no  longer  be  regarded 
with  antipathy  and  disgust, — he  will  appear 
in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ  as  a  reconciled 
father, — he  will  pour  upon  you  the  spirit  of 
adoption, — you  will  walk  before  him  with- 
out fear, — and  those  bonds  being  loosed, 
wherewith  you  were  formerly  held,  you  will 
yield  to  him  the  willing  obedience  of  those 
whose  hearts  are  enlarged,  and  who  run,  with 
delight,  in  the  way  of  his  commandments. 


SERMON  XIV. 

The  Power  of  the  Gospel  to  dissolve  the  Enmity  of  the  human  Heart  against  God. 

"  Having  slain  the  enmity  thereby." — Ephesians  ii.  16. 


II.  We  shall  now  consider  how  it  is  that 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  suits  its  applica- 
tion to  this  great  moral  disease. 

The  necessity  of  some  singular  expedient 
for  restoring  the  love  of  God  to  the  alien- 
ated heart  of  man,  will  appear  from  the 
utter  impossibility  of  bringing  this  about  by 
any  direct  application  of  authority  what- 


ever. For,  do  you  think  that  the  delivery 
of  the  law  of  love,  in  his  hearing,  as  a  posi- 
tive and  indispensable  enactment  coming 
forth  from  the  legislature  of  heaven  will  do 
it?  You  may  as  well  pass  a  law,  making 
it  imperative  upon  him  to  delight  in  pain, 
and  to  feel  comfort  on  a  bed  of  torture. 
Or,  do  you  think,  that  you  will  ever  give  a 


XIV.] 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


97 


practical  establishment  to  the  law  of  love, 
by  surrounding  it  with  accumulated  penal- 
ties ?  This  may  irritate,  or  it  may  terrify, — 
but  for  the  purpose  of  begetting  any  thing 
like  attachment,  one  may  as  well  think  of 
lashing  another  into  tender  regard  for  him. 
Or,  do  you  think,  that  the  terrors  of  the 
coming  vengeance  will  ever  incline  a  hu- 
man being  to  love  the  God  who  threatens 
him  ?  Powerful  as  these  terrors  are,  in 
persuading  man  to  turn  from  the  evil  of  his 
ways, — they  most  assuredly  do  not  form 
the  artillery  by  which  the  heart  of  man  can 
be  carried.  They  draw  not  forth  a  single 
affection,  but  the  affection  of  fear.  They 
never  can  charm  the  human  bosom  into  a 
feeling  of  attachment  to  God.  And  it  goes 
to  prove  the  necessity  of  some  singular  ex- 

rit,  for  restoring  man  to  fellowship 
with  his  Maker;  that  the  only  obedience 
on  which  this  fellowship  can  be  perpetu- 

is  an  obedience  which  no  threatenings 
can  force, — to  which  no  warnings  of  dis- 

ire  can  reclaim, — which  all  the  solemn 

i  mations  of  law  and  justice  cannot 
carry, — and  all  the  terrors  and  severities  of 
a  sovereignty  resting  on  power,  as  its  only 
foundation,  can  never  subdue.  The  utter- 
ance of  the  words,  Thou  shalt  love  the 
Lord  thy  God,  or  perish  everlastingly,  can 
no  more  open  the  shut  and  alienated  beart 
of  man,  than  it  can  open  a  gate  of  iron. 
Multiply  these  arguments  of  terror  as  you 
may, — arm  them  with  tenfold  energy,  and 
make  them  to  fall  in  thunder  on  the  sin- 
ner's ears, — tell  him  of  the  God  of  judg- 
ment,  and  manifest  to  him  the  frown  of  his 
angry  countenance, — lay  before  him  the 
grim  aspect  of  his  impending  death,  and 
spread  a  deeper  mantle  of  despair  over  the 
vast  field  of  that  eternity  which  is  on  the 
Other  side  of  it; — you  may  disquiet  him, 
and  right  that  he  should  be  so, — you  may 
prevail  on  him  to  give  up  many  evil  doings; 
and  right  that  the  whole  urgency  of  the 
coming  wrath  should  be  employed  to  make 
him  give  them  up  immediately, — you  may 
set  him  a  trembling  at  the  power  of  God, 
a;nl  better  this  than  spending  *his  guilty 

:•,  in  thoughtlessness  and  unconcern, 
about  the  great  Lawgiver; — but  where,  in 
th  midst  of  all  this,  shall  we  find  obedience 
to  the  very  first  and  greatest  commandment 
of  the  law  ?  Has  this  obedience  been  yet 
so  much  as  entered  on?  Has  love  to  God 
so  much  as  reached  the  infancy  of  its  ex- 
istence in  that  heart  which  is  now  begin- 
ning to  be  agitated  by  its  terrors'?  Amid 
all  the  bitterness  of  remorse,  and  all  the 
fearful  looking  for  of  judgment,  and  all  the 
restless  anxieties  of  conscious  guilt,  and 
anticipated  vengeance,  tell  us,  if  a  single 
particle  of  tenderness  towards  God  has  any 
place  in  this  restless  and  despairing  bosom  ? 
Tell  us.  if  it  act  as  an  element  at  all,  in  this 
wild  war  of  turbulence  and  disorder?  Or, 
13 


has  it  yet  begun  to  dawn  upon  the  mind. 
and  spread  its  salutary  and  composing 
charm  over  that  dark  scene  of  conflict,  un- 
der which  many  a  sinner  has  to  sustain  the 
burden  of  the  wearisome  nights  that  art 
appointed  to  him  ?  You  may  seek  for  love 
to  God  throughout  all  the  chambers  of  his 
heart,  and  seek  in  vain.  The  man  may  be 
acting  such  reformations  as  he  is  driven  to, 
and  may  be  clothing  himself  in  such  visible 
decencies,  as  he  feels  himself  compelled  to 
put  on,  and  may  be  labouring  away  at  the 
drudgery  of  such  observances  as  he  thinks 
will  give  him  relief  from  the  corrosions  of 
that  undying  worm,  which  never  ceases  to 
goad  him  with  its  reproaches ;  but  as  to  the 
love  of  God,  there  is  as  grim  and  deter- 
mined an  exclusion  of  this  principle  as 
ever, — that  avenue  to  his  heart  has  never 
been  unlocked,  through  which  it  might  be 
made  to  find  its  way, — every  former  argu- 
ment, so  far  from  having  dissolved  the  bar- 
rier, has  only  served  to  rivet  and  to  make 
it  more  unmoveable.  And  the  difficulty 
still  lies  upon  us, — how  are  we  to  deposit 
in  the  heart  of  man,  the  only  right  princi- 
ple of  obedience  to  God, — and  to  lead  him 
onward  in  the  single  way  of  a  pure,  and 
spiritual,  and  substantial  repentance  ? 

This,  then,  is  a  case  of  difficulty,  and,  in 
the  Bible,  God  is  said  to  have  lavished  all 
the  riches  of  his  unsearchable  wisdom  on 
the  business  of  managing  it.  No  wonder 
that  to  his  angels  it  appeared  a  mystery, 
and  that  they  desired  to  look  into  it.  It 
appears  a  matter  of  direct  and  obvious 
facility  to  intimidate  man, — and  to  bring 
his  body  into  a  forced  subordination  to  all 
the  requirements.  But  the  great  matter 
was,  how  to  attach  man, — how  to  work  in 
him  a  liking  to  God,  and  a  l'elish  for  his 
character: — or,  in  other  words,  how  to 
communicate  to  human  obedience,  that 
principle,  without  which  it  is  no  obedience 
at  all, — to  make  him  serve  God  because  he 
loved  him ;  and  to  run  in  the  way  of  all  his 
commandments,  because  this  was  the  thing 
in  which  he  greatly  delighted  himself.  To 
lay  upon  us  the  demand  of  satisfaction  for 
his  violated  law,  could  not  do  it.  To  press 
home  the  claims  of  justice  upon  any  sense 
of  authority  within  us,  could  not  do  it.  To 
bring  forward,  in  threatening  array,  the 
terrors  of  his  judgment,  and  of  his  power 
against  us,  could  not  do  it.  To  unveil  the 
glories  of  that  throne  where  he  sitteth  in 
equity,  and  manifest  to  his  guilty  creatures 
the  awful  inflexibilities  of  his  truth  and 
righteousness,  could  not  do  it.  To  look  out 
from  the  cloud  of  vengeance,  and  trouble 
our  darkened  souls  as  he  did  those  of  the 
Egyptians  of  old,  with  the  aspect  of  a  me- 
nacing Deity,  could  not  do  it.  To  spread  the 
field  of  an  undone  eternity  before  us,  and 
tell  us  of  those  dreary  abodes  where  each 
criminal  hath  his  bed  in  hell,  and  the  cen- 


98 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


turie,s  of  despair  which  pass  over  him  are 
not  counted,  because  there  no  seasons  roll, 
and  the  unhappy  victims  of  the  tribulation, 
and  the  wrath,  and  the  anguish,  know,  that 
for  the  mighty  burden  of  the  sufferings 
which  weigh  upon  them,  there  is  no  end, 
and  no  mitigation;  this  prospect,  appalling 
as  it  is,  and  coming  home  upon  the  belief 
with  all  the  characters  of  the  most  immuta- 
ble certainty,  could  not  do  it.  The  affections 
of  the  inner  man  remain  as  unmoved  as 
ever,  under  the  successive  and  repeated  in- 
fluence of  all  these  dreadful  applications. 
There  is  not  one  of  them,  which,  instead  of 
conciliating,  does  not  stir  up  a  principle  of 
resistance;  and,  subject  any  human  crea- 
ture to  the  treatment  of  them  all,  and  to 
nothing  else,  and  he  may  tremble  at  God, 
and  shrink  at  the  contemplation  of  God, 
and  feel  an  overpowering  awe  at  the  thought 
of  God,  when  that  thought  visits  him ; — 
but  we  maintain,  that  not  one  particle  of 
influence  has  been  sent  into  his  heart,  to 
make  him  love  God.  Under  such  applica- 
tions as  these,  we  can  conceive  the  crea- 
ture, gathering  a  new  energy  from  despair, 
and  mustering  up  a  stouter  defiance  than 
ever  to  the  God  who  threatens  him.  Strange 
contest  between  the  thing  formed  and  him 
who  formed  it; — but  we  see  it  exhibited 
among  the  determined  votaries  of  wicked- 
ness in  life;  and  it  is  the  very  contest  which 
gives  its  moral  aspect  to  hell  throughout  all 
eternity.  There  God  reigns  in  vindictive 
majesty,  and  there  every  heart  of  every 
outcast,  sheathed  in  impenetrable  hardness, 
mutters  its  blasphemies  against  him.  O 
hideous  and  revolting  spectacle !  and  how 
awful  to  think  that  the  unreclaimed  sons  of 
profligacy,  who  pour  along  our  streets,  and 
throng  our  markets,  and  form  the  fearful 
majority  in  almost  every  chamber  of  busi- 
ness, and  in  every  workshop  of  industry, 
are  thither  speeding  their  infatuated  way  ! 
What  a  wretched  field  of  contemplation  is 
around  us,  when  we  see  on  every  side  of  it 
the  mutual  encouragement, — the  everply- 
ing  allurements, — the  tacit,  though  effectual 
and  well  understood,  combination,  sustain- 
ing, over  the  whole  face  of  this  alienated 
world,  a  firm  and  systematic  rebellion 
against  God  !  We  are  not  offering  an  ex- 
aggerated picture  when  we  say,  that  within 
reach  of  the  walk  of  a  single  hour,  there 
are  thousands,  and  thousands  more,  who 
have  cast  away  from  them  the  authority  of 
God ;  and  who  have  been  nerved  by  all  his 
threatenings  into  a  more  determined  atti- 
tude of  wickedness ;  and  who  glory  in  their 
unprincipled  dissipations;  and  who,  with- 
out one  sigh  at  the  moving  spectacle  of 
ruined  innocence,  will,  in  the  hearing  of 
companions  younger  than  themselves,  scat- 
ter their  pestilential  levities  around  them, 
and  care  not  though  the  hope  of  parents, 
and  the  yet  unvitiated  delicacy  of  youth, 


shall  wither  and  expire  under  the  contagion 
of  their  ruffian  example;  and  will  patronize 
every  step  of  that  progress  which  leads 
from  one  depravity  to  another,  till  their  ill 
fated  proselyte,  made  as  much  the  child  of 
hell  as  themselves,  shall  share  in  that  com- 
mon ruin  which,  in  the  great  day  of  the  reve- 
lation of  the  righteous  judgment  of  God.  will 
come  forth  from  the  storehouse  of  his  wrath, 
in  one  mighty  torrent,  on  the  heads  of  all 
who  boast  of  their  iniquity.  We  have  now 
touched  on  the  limits  of  a  subject  of  which 
half  its  horrors  are  untold;  but  through 
which,  the  minister  of  the  counsels  of  hea- 
ven must  clear  his  intrepid  way,  in  spite  of 
all  its  painfulness.  We  will  not  pursue  it 
at  present,  but  neither  will  we  count  the 
digression  out  of  place,  should  a  single  pa- 
rent among  you  be  led,  from  what  we  have 
now  uttered,  to  be  jealous  over  his  children 
with  a  godly  jealousy,  and  not  to  suffer  those, 
for  whose  eternity  he  is  so  deeply  responsi- 
ble, to  take  their  random  direction  through 
society,  just  where  the  prospects  of  busi- 
ness, and  of  worldly  advantage,  may  chance 
to  carry  them ;  to  calculate  on  the  possi- 
bilities of  moral  corruption,  as  well  as  on 
the  possibilities  of  lucrative  employment ; 
to  look  weU  to  exposures  and  acquaintances, 
and  hours T>f  social  entertainment,  as  well 
as  to  the  common-place  object  of  a  situation 
in  the  world.  And  when  you  talk  of  a 
good  line  for  your  children,  just  think  a 
little  more  of  the  line  that  leadeth  to  eter- 
nity, and  have  a  care  lest  you  be  the  instru- 
ment of  putting  them  on  such  a  path  of 
danger,  that  it  shall  only  be  the  very  rarest 
miracle  of  grace  that  your  helpless  young 
can  be  kept  from  falling,  or  be  renewed 
again  into  repentance. 

But  the  difficulty  in  question  still  re- 
mains unresolved.  How  then  is  this  re- 
generation to  be  wrought,  if  no  threatenings 
can  work  it, — if  no  terrors  of  judgment 
can  soften  the  heart  into  that  love  of  God, 
which  forms  the  chief  feature  of  repent- 
ance,— if  all  the  direct  applications  of  law 
and  of  righteous  authority,  and  of  its  tre- 
mendous and  immutable  sanctions,  so  far 
from  attaching  man  in  tenderness  to  his 
God,  have  only  the  effect  of  impressing  a 
violent  recoil  upon  all  his  affections,  and, 
by  the  hardening  influence  of  despair,  of 
stirring  up  in  his  bosoin  a  more  violent  an- 
tipathy than  ever?  Will  the  high  and  so- 
lemn proclamations  of  a  menacing  Deity 
not  do  it  ?  This  is  not  the  way  in  which 
the  heart  of  man  can  be  carried.  He  is  so 
constituted,  that  the  law  of  love  can  never, 
never  be  established  within  him  by  the  en- 
gine of  terror ;  and  here  is  the  barrier  to 
this  regeneration  on  the  part  of  man.  But 
if  a  threat  of  justice  cannot  do  it,  will  an 
act  of  forgiveness  do  it  ?  This  again  is  not 
the  way  in  which  God  can  admit  the 
guilty  to  acceptance.    He  is  so  constituted, 


XIV.] 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


99 


that  his  truth  cannot  be  trampled  upon, 
and  his  government  cannot  be  despoiled 
of  its  authority,  and  its  sanctions  cannot, 
with  impunity,  be  defied,  and  every  solemn 
utterance  of  the  Deity  cannot  but  find  its 
accomplishment,  in  such  a  way  as  may 
vindicate  his  glory,  and  make  the  whole 
creation  he  has  formed  stand  in  awe  of 
its  Almighty  Sovereign.  And  here  is  an- 
other barrier  on  the  part  of  God ;  and  that 
economy  of  redemption,  in  which  a  dead 
and  undiscerning  world  see  no  skilfulness 
to  admire,  and  no  feature  of  graciousness 
to  allure,  was  so  planned,  in  the  upper 
counsels  of  heaven,  that  it  maketh  known, 
to  principal  hies  and  powers,  the  manifold 
wisdom  of  Him  who  devised  it.  The  men 
of  this  infidel  generation,  whose  every  fa- 
culty is  so  bedimmed  by  the  grossness  of 
sense,  that  they  cannot  lay  hold  of  the 
realities  of  faith,  and  cannot  appreciate 
them, — to  them  the  barriers  we  have  now 
insisted  on,  which  lie  in  the  way  of  man 
taking  God  into  his  love,  and  of  God  taking 
man  into  his  acceptance,  may  appear  to  be 
so  many  faint  and  shadowy  considerations, 
.  of  which  they  feel  not  the  significancy ; 
but,  to  the  pure  and  intellectual  eye  of  an- 
gels, they  are  substantial  obstacles,  and 
One  Mighty  to  save  had  to  travail  in  the 
greatness  of  his  strength,  in  order  to  move 
them  away.  The  Son  of  God  descended 
from  heaven,  and  he  took  upon  him  the 
nature  of  man,  and  he  suffered  in  his  stead, 
and  he  consented  that  the  whole  burden  of 
offended  justice  should  fall  upon  him,  and 
he  bore  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree,  the 
weight  of  all  those  accomplishments  by 
which  his  Father  behooved  to  be  glorified, 
and  after  having  magnified  the  law,  and 
made  it  honourable,  by  pouring  out  his 
soul  unto  the  death  for  us,  he  went  up  on 
high,  and  by  an  arm  of  everlasting 
strength,  levelled  that  wall  of  partition 
which  lay  across  the  path  of  acceptance; 
and  thus  it  is,  that  the  barrier  on  the  part 
of  God  is  done  away,  and  he,  with  untar- 
nished glory,  can  dispense  forgiveness 
over  the  whole  extent  of  a  guilty  creation, 
because  he  can  be  just,  while  he  is  the 
justifier  of  them  who  believe  in  Jesus. 

And  if  the  barrier,  on  the  part  of  God,  is 
thus  moved  aside,  why  not  the  barrier  on 
the  part  of  man  ?  Does  not  the  wisdom  of 
redemption  show  itself  here  also  ?  Does  it 
not  embrace  some  skilful  contrivance,  by 
which  it  penetrates  those  mounds  that  be- 
set the  human  heart,  and  ward  the  en- 
trance of  the  principle  of  love  away  from 
it,  and  which  all  the  direct  applications  of 
terror  and  authority,  have  only  the  effect 
of  fixing  more  immoveably  upon  their 
basis'?  Yes  it  does, — for  it  changes  the 
aspect  of  the  Deity  towards  man ;  and 
were  man  only  to  have  faith  in  the  an- 
nouncements of  the  gospel,  so  as  to  see 


God  with  the  eye  of  his  mind  under  this 
new  aspect, — love  to  God  would  spring  up 
in  his  heart,  as  the  unfailing  consequence. 
Let  man  see  God  as  he  sets  himself  forth 
in  this  wonderful  revelation,  and  let  him 
believe  the  reality  of  what  he  sees ;  and 
he  cannot  but  love  the  Being  he  is  employ- 
ed in  contemplating.  "Without  this  gospel, 
he  may  see  him  to  be  a  God  of  justice; 
but  he  cannot  do  this  without  seeing  the 
frown  of  severity  directed  against  himself, 
a  wretched  offender :  With  this  gospel,  he 
sees  the  full  burden  of  violated  justice 
borne  away  from  him  ;  and  God  stands  be- 
fore him  unrobed  of  all  his  severities,  and 
tenderly  inviting  him  to  draw  near  through 
that  blood  of  atonement  which  was  shed, 
the  just  for  the  unjust,  to  bring  the  sinner 
unto  God.  Without  this  gospel,  he  may 
see  the  truth  of  God ;  but  he  sees  it  pledged 
to  the  fulfilment  of  the  most  awful  threat- 
enings  against  him:  With  this  gospel, 
he  sees  the  full  weight  of  all  these  ac- 
complishments resting  on  the  head  of  the 
great  sacrifice;  and  God's  truth  is  now 
fully  embarked  on  the  most  cheering  as- 
surances of  pardon,  on  the  most  liberal  in- 
vitations of  good  will,  on  the  most  exceed- 
ing great  and  precious  promises.  Without 
this  gospel,  he  may  see  the  government  of 
God  leaning  on  the  pillars  of  that  immuta- 
bility which  upholds  it ;  but  this  very  im- 
mutability is  to  him  the  sentence  of  despair; 
and  how  can  he  love  that  face,  on  which 
are  stamped  the  characters  of  a  stern  and 
vindictive  majesty  ?  With  this  gospel,  the 
face  of  God  stands  legibly  revealed  to 
him  in  other  characters.  That  law  which, 
resting  on  the  solemn  authority  of  its  firm 
and  unalterable  requirements,  demanded  a 
fulfilment,  up  to  the  last  jot  and  tittle  of  it, 
has  been  magnified,  and  has  been  made 
honourable,  by  one  illustrious  sufferer,  who 
put  forth  the  greatness  of  his  strength,  in 
that  dark  hour  of  the  travail  of  his  soul, 
when  he  bore  the  burden  of  all  its  penal- 
ties. That  wrath  which  should  have  been 
discharged  on  the  guilty  millions  he  died 
for,  was  all  concentred  upon  him,  who 
took  upon  himself  the  chastisement  of  our 
peace,  and  on  that  day  of  mysterious  ago- 
ny, drank,  to  the  very  dregs,  the  cup  of 
our  expiation.  And  God,  who  planned  the 
whole  work  of  this  wonderful  redemption, 
— God,  who  in  love  to  a  guilty  world  sent 
his  Son  amongst  us  to  accomplish  it, — 
God,  who  rather  than  lose  his  alienated 
creatures,  as  he  could  not  strip  his  eternal 
throne  of  a  single  attribute  that  supported 
it,  awoke  the  sword  of  vengeance  against 
his  fellow,  that  on  him  the  truth  ami  the 
justice  of  the  Deity  might  receive  their 
most  illustrious  vindication, — God,  who,  out 
of  Christ,  sits  surrounded  with  all  the  dark- 
ness of  unapproachable  majesty,  is  now 
God  in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto 


100 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


himself,  and  not  imputing  unto  them  their 
trespasses ;  his  tender  mercy  is  now  free 
to  rejoice  amid  all  the  glory  of  his  other 
bright  and  untarnished  perfections,  and  he 
pours  the  expression  of  his  tenderness, 
with  an  unsparing  hand,  over  the  whole 
extent  of  his  sinful  creation — and  he  lets 
himself  down  to  the  language  of  a  beseech- 
ing supplicant,  praying  that  each  and  every 
one  of  us  might  be  reconciled  unto  him — 
and,  putting  on  a  winning  countenance  of 
invitation  to  the  guiltiest  of  us  all,  he  tells 
us,  that  if  we  only  come  to  him  through 
the  appointed  mediator,  he  will  blot  out,  as 
with  a  thick  cloud,  our  transgressions, — 
and  that,  as  if  carried  away  to  a  land  that 
was  not  inhabited,  he  will  make  no  more 
mention  of  them. 

And  thus  it  is,  that  the  goodness  of  God 
destroyeth  the  enmity  of  the  human  heart 
When  every  other  argument  fails,  this,  if 
perceived  by  the  eye  of  faith,  finds  its 
powerful  and  persuasive  way  through 
every  barrier  of  resistance.  Try  to  ap- 
proach the  heart  of  man  by  the  instru- 
ments of  terror  and  of  authority,  and  it 
will  disdainfully  repel  you.  There  is  not 
.  one  of  you  skilled  in  the  management  of 
human  nature,  who  does  not  perceive,  that, 
though  this  may  be  a  way  of  working  on 
the  other  principles  of  our  constitution, — 
of  working  on  the  fears  of  man,  or  on  his 
sense  of  interest, — this  is  not  the  way  of 
gaining  by  a  single  hair-breadth  on  the  at- 
tachments of  his  heart.  Such  a  way  may 
force,  or  it  may  terrify,  but  it  never,  never 
can  endear ;  and  after  all  the  threaten- 
ing array  of  such  an  influence  as  this,  is 
brought  to  bear  upon  man,  there  is  not  one 
particle  of  service  it  can  extort  from  him, 
but  what  is  all  rendered  in  the  spirit  of  a 
painful  and  reluctant  bondage.  Now,  thks 
is  not  the  service  which  prepares  for  hea- 
ven. This  is  not  the  service  which  assimi- 
lates men  to  angels.  This  is  not  the  obe- 
dience of  those  glorified  spirits,  whose  every 
affection  harmonizes  with  their  every  per- 
formance ;  and  the  very  essence  of  whose 
piety  consists  of  delight  in  God,  and  the 
love  they  bear  to  him.  To  bring  up  man 
to  such  an  obedience  as  this,  his  heart  be- 
hooved to  be  approached  in  a  peculiar 
way  ;  and  no  such  way  is  to  be  found,  but 
within  the  limits  of  the  Christian  revela- 
tion. There  alone  you  see  God,  without 
injury  to  his  other  attributes,  plying  the 
heart  of  man  with  the  irresistible  argument 
of  kindness.  There  alone  do  you  see  the 
great  Lord  of  heaven  and  of  earth,  setting 
himself  forth  to  the  most  worthless  and  the 
most  wandering  of  his  children, — putting 
forth  his  own  hand  to  the  work  of  healing 
the  breach  which  sin  had  made  between 
them, — telling  him  that  his  word  could  not 
be  set  aside,  and  his  threatenings  could  not 
be  mocked,  and  his  justice  could  not  be 


defied  and  trampled  on,  and  that  it  was  not 
possible  for  his  perfections  to  receive  the 
slightest  taint  in  the  eyes  of  the  creation 
he  had  thrown  around  him;  but  that  all 
this  was  provided  for,  and  not  a  single 
creature  within  the  compass  of  the  uni- 
verse he  had  formed,  could  now  say,  that 
forgiveness  to  man  was  degrading  to  the 
authority  of  God,  and  that  by  the  very  act 
of  atonement,  which  poured  a  glory  over 
all  the  high  attributes  of  his  character,  his 
mercy  might  now  burst  forth  without 
limit,  and  without  controul,  upon  a  guilty 
world,  and  the  broad  flag  of  invitation  be 
unfurled  in  the  sight  of  all  its  families. 

Let  the  sinner,  then,  look  to  God  through 
the  medium  of  such  a  revelation ;  and  the 
sight  which  meets  him  there,  may  well 
tame  the  obstinacy  of  that  heart  which  had 
wrapped  itself  up  in  impenetrable  hardness 
against  the  force  of  every  other  considera- 
tion.   Now  that  the  storm  of  the  Almighty's 
wrath  has  been  discharged  upon  him  who 
bore  the  burden  of  the  world's  atonement, 
he  has  turned  his  throne  of  glory  into  a 
throne  of  grace,  and  cleared  away  from  the 
pavilion  of  his  residence,  all  the  darkness 
which  encompassed  it.  The  God  who  dwell- 
eth  there,  is  God  in  Christ;  and  the  voice 
he  sends  from  it,  to  this  dark  and  rebellious 
province  of  his  mighty  empire,  is  a  voice 
of  the  most  beseeching  tenderness.     Good 
will  to  men  is  the  announcement  with  which 
his  messengers  come  fraught  to  a  guilty 
world ;  and,  since  the  moment  in  which  it 
burst  upon  mortal  ears  from  the  peaceful 
canopy  of  heaven,  may  the  ministers  of 
salvation  take  it  up,  and  go  round  with  it 
among  all  the  tribes  and  individuals  of  the 
species.    Such  is  the  real  aspect  of  God  to- 
wards you.    He  cannot  bear  that  his  alien- 
ated children  should  be  finally  and  ever- 
lastingly away  from  him.    He  feels  for  you 
all  the  longing  of  a  parent  bereaved' of  his 
offspring.    To  woo  you  back  again  unto 
himself,  he  scatters  among  you  the  largest 
and  the  most  liberal  assurances,  and  with  a 
tone  of  imploring  tenderness,  does  he  say 
to  one  and  all  of  you,  "  Turn  ye,  turn  ye, 
why  will  you  die?"     He  has  no  pleasure 
in  your  death.    He  does  not  wish  to  glorify 
himself  by  the  destruction  of  any  one  of 
you.    "  Look  to  me  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth, 
and  be  saved,"  is  the  wide  and  the  generous 
announcement,  by  which  he  would  recal, 
from  the  very  outermost  limits  of  his  sinful 
creation,  the  most  worthless  and  polluted 
of  those  who  have  wandered  away  from 
him.    Now  give  us  a  man  who  perceives, 
with  the  eye  of  his  mind,  the  reality  of  all 
this,  and  you  give  us  a  man  in  possession 
of  the  principle  of  faith.     Give  us  a  man 
in  possession  of  this  faith ;  and  his  heart, 
shielded,  as  it  were,  against  the  terrors  of  a 
menacing  Deity,  is  softened  and  subdued, 
and  resigns  its  everv  affection  at  the  mov- 


XV.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


101 


ing  spectacle  of  a  beseeching  Deity;  and 
thus  it  is  that  faith  manifests  the  attribute 
which  the  Bible  assigns  to  it,  of  working  by 
love.  Give  us  a  man  in  possession  of  this 
love;  and  animated  as  he  is,  with  the  living 
principle  of  that  obedience,  where  the  will- 
ing and  delighted  consent  of  the  inner  man 
goes  along  with  the  performance  of  the 
outer  man,  his  love  manifests  the  attribute 
which  the  Bible  assigns  to  it,  when  it  says, 
"  This  is  the  love  of  God,  that  ye  keep  his 
commandments."  And  thus  it  is,  amid  the 
fruitlessness  of  every  other  expedient,  when 
power  threatened  to  crush  the  heart  which 
it  could  not  soften, — when  authority  lifted 
its  voice,  and  laid  on  man  an  enactment  of 
love  which  it  could  not  carry, — when  terror 


shot  its  arrows,  and  they  dropped  ineffectual 
from  that  citadel  of  the  human' affections, 
which  stood  proof  against  the  impression 
of  every  one  of  them, — when  wrath  mus- 
tered up  its  appalling  severities  and  fdled 
that  bosom  with  despair  which  it  could  not 
rill  with  the  warmth  of  a  confiding  attach- 
ment,— then  the  kindness  of  an  inviting  God 
was  brought  to  bear  on  the  heart  of  man, 
and  got  an  opening  through  all  its  myste- 
rious avenues.  Goodness  did  what  the  na- 
kedness of  power  could  not  do.  It  found 
its  way  through  all  the  intricacies  of  the 
human  constitution,  and  there,  depositing  the 
right  principle  of  repentance,  did  it  establish 
the  alone  effectual  security  for  the  right  pur- 
poses, and  the  right  fruits  of  repentance. 


SERMON   XV. 


The  Evils  of  false  Security. 

"  They  have  healed  also  the  hurt  of  the  daughter  of  my  people  slightly,  saying  Peace,  Peace  ;  when  there 

is  no  peace." — Jeremiah  vi.  14. 


We  must  all  have  remarked,  on  what  a 
slight  and  passing  consideration  people  will 
dispose  of  a  question  which  relates  to  the 
interest  of  their  eternity;  and  how  strikingly 
this  stands  contrasted  with  the  very  deep, 
and  earnest,  and  long  sustained  attention, 
which  they  bestow  on  a  question  which  re- 
lates  to  their  interest,  or  their  fortune,  in 
this  world.  Ere  they  embark,  for  example, 
on  an  enterprise  of  trade,  they  will  look  at 
all  the  sides,  and  all  the  possibilities  of  the 
speculation;  and  every  power  of  thought 
within  them,  will  be  put  to  its  busiest  exer- 
cise, and  they  will  enter  upon  it  with  much 
fearfulness,  and  they  will  feel  an  anxious 
concern  in  every  step,  and  every  new  evo- 
lution of  such  an  undertaking.  Compare 
this  with  the  very  loose  and  summary  way 
in  which  they  make  up  their  minds  about 
the  chance  of  happiness  in  another  world. 
See  at  how  easy  a  rate  they  will  be  satisfied 
with  some  maxim  of  security,  the  utterance 
of  which  serves  as  a  bar  against  all  further 
prosecution  of  the  subject.  Behold  the  use 
they  make  of  some  hastily  assumed  prin- 
ciple in  religion, — not  for  the  purpose  of 
fastening  their  minds  upon  it,  but  for  the 
purpose,  in  fact,  of  hurrying  their  minds 
away  from  it.  For  it  must  be  observed  of 
the  people  to  whom  we  allude,  that,  in  spite 
of  all  their  thoughtlessness  about  the  affairs 
of  the  soul,  they  are  not  altogether  without 
some  opinion  on  the  matter;  and  in  which 
opinion  there  generally  is  comprised  all  the 
theology  of  which  they  are  possessed.  With- 
out some  such  opinion,  even  the  most  re- 
gardless of  men  might  feel  themselves  in  a 


state  of  restlessness ;  and  therefore  it  is, 
however  seldom  they  are  visited  with  any 
thought  about  eternity,  and  however  gently 
this  thought  touches  them,  and  however 
quickly  it  passes  away,  to  be  replaced  by 
some  of  the  more  urgent  vanities  and  inter- 
ests of  time,  yet,  with  most  men,  there  is 
something  like  an  actual  making  up  of  their 
minds,  on  this  awfully  important  subject. 
There  is  a  settlement  they  have  come  to 
about  it,  which,  generally  speaking,  serves 
them  to  the  end  of  their  days; — and  on  the 
strength  of  which,  there  are  many  who  can 
hush  within  them  every  alarm  of  conscience, 
and  repel  from  without  them,  the  whole 
force  of  a  preacher's  demonstration,  and  all 
that  power  of  disquietude  which  lies  in  his 
faithful  and  impressive  warnings. 

We  speak  in  reference  to  a  very  nume- 
rous set  of  individuals,  among  the  upper 
and  middling  classes  of  society.  There  is  a 
class  of  what  may  be  called  slender  and  sen- 
timental religionists,  who  do  profess  a  re- 
verence for  the  matter,  and  maintain  many 
of  its  outward  decencies,  and  are  visited 
with  occasional  thoughts,  and  occasional 
feelings  of  tenderness  about  death,  and  duty, 
and  eternity,  and  would  be  shocked  at  the 
utterance  of  an  infidel  opinion ;  and  with 
all  these  symptoms  of  a  religious  inclina- 
tion about  them,  have  their  minds  very  com- 
fortably made  up,  and  altogether  free  from 
any  apprehension,  either  of  present  wrath 
or  of  coming  vengeance.  Now,  on  examin- 
ing the  ground  of  their  tranquillity,  we  are 
at  a  loss  to  detect  a  single  ingredient  of  that 
peace  and  joy  in  believing,  which  we  read 


102 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


[sERM. 


of  among  the  Christians  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment. It  is  not  that  Christ  is  set  forth 
a  propitiation  for  their  sins, — it  is  not  that 
they  stagger  not  at  the  promise  of  God,  be- 
cause of  unbelief, — it  is  not  that  the  love  of 
him  is  shed  abroad  in  their  hearts,  by  the 
Holy  Ghost, — it  is  not  that  they  carry  along 
with  them  any  consciousness  whatever,  of 
a  growing  conformity  to  the  image  of  the 
Saviour, — it  is  not  that  their  calling  and 
their  election  are  made  sure  to  them,  by 
the  successful  diligence  with  which  they 
are  cultivating  the  various  accomplishments 
of  the  Christian  character; — there  is  not 
one  of  these  ingredients,  will  we  venture  to 
say,  which  enters  into  the  satisfaction  that 
many  feel  with  their  own  prospects,  and 
into  the  complacency  they  have  in  their 
own  attainments,  and  into  their  opinion, 
that  God  is  looking  to  them  with  indulgence 
and  friendship.  With  most  of  them,  there 
is  not  only  an  ignorance,  but  a  positive  dis- 
gust, about  these  things.  They  associate 
with  them  the  charges  of  methodism,  and 
mysticism,  and  fanaticism  :  and  meanwhile 
cherish  in  their  own  hearts  a  kind  of  im- 
pregnable confidence,  resting  entirely  on 
some  other  foundation. 

We  believe  the  real  cause  of  their  tran- 
quillity to  be,  just  that  eternity  is  not  seen 
nearly  enough,  or  urgently  enough,  to  dis- 
turb them.  It  stands  so  far  away  on  the 
back  ground  of  their  contemplation,  that 
they  are  almost  entirely  taken  up  with 
the  intervening  objects.  Any  glimpse  they 
have  of  the  futurity  which  lies  on  the  other 
side  of  time,  is  so  faint,  and  so  occasional, 
that  its  concerns  never  come  to  them  with 
the  urgency  of  a  matter  on  hand.  It  is  not 
so  much  because  they  think  in  a  particular 
way  on  this  topic,  that  they  feel  themselves 
to  be  at  peace.  It  is  rather  because  they 
think  so  little  of  it.  Still,  however,  they  do 
have  a  transient  and  occasional  thought, 
and  it  is  all  on  the  side  of  tranquillity;  and 
could  this  thought  be  exposed  as  a  minister 
of  deceitful  complacency  to  the  heart,  it 
may  have  the  effect  of  working  in  it  a  salu- 
tary alarm,  and  of  making  the  possessor  of 
it  see  the  nakedness  of  his  condition,  and 
of  undermining  every  other  trust  but  a  trust 
in  the  offered  salvation  of  the  gospel,  and 
of  unsettling  the  blind  and  easy  confidence 
of  his  former  days,  and  of  prompting  him 
with  the  question,  "  What,  shall  I  do  to  be 
saved?"  and  of  leading  him  to  try  this 
question  by  the  light  of  revelation,  and  to 
prosecute  it  to  a  scriptural  conclusion,  till 
he  came  to  the  answer  of,  "Believe  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved." 
What  is  the  way,  then,  in  which  they  do 
actually  make  up  their  minds  upon  this 
subject?  There  is,  in  the  first  place,  a 
pretty  general  admission,  that  Ave  are  sin- 
ners, though  along  with  this,  there  is  a  dis- 
position to  palliate  the  enormity  of  sin,  and 


to  gloss  it  over  with  the  gentle  epithet  of 
an  infirmity.     It  is  readily  allowed,  then, 
that  we  have  our  infirmities ;  and  then  to 
make  all  right,  and  secure,  and  comforta- 
able,  the  sentiment  with  which  they  bring 
the  matter  round  again,  is,  that  though  we 
have  our  infirmities,  God  is  a  merciful  God, 
and  he  will  overlook  them.     This  vague, 
and  general,  and  indistinct  apprehension  of 
the  attribute  of  mercy  is  the  anchor  of  their 
hope ;  not  a  very  sure  and  steadfast  one, 
certainly,  but  just  as  sure  and  as  steadfast, 
as,  in  their  peaceful  state  of  unconcern,  they 
have  any  demand  for.     A  vessel  in  smooth 
water  needs  not  be  very  sti'ong'y  fastened 
in  her  moorings ;  and  really  any  convictions 
of  sin  they  have,  agitate  them  so  gently, 
that  a  very  slender  principle  indeed,  uttered 
occasionally  by  the  mouth,  and  with  no 
distinct  or  perceptible  hold  upon  the  heart, 
is  enough  to  quiet  and  subdue  all  that  is 
troublesome  within  them.     A  slight  hurt 
needs  but  a  slight  remedy,  and  however 
virulent  the  disease  may  be,  yet  if  the  pa- 
tient be  but  gently  alarmed,  a  gentle  appli- 
cation is  enough  to  pacify  him  in  the  mean 
time.     Now,  a  tasteful  and  a  tender  senti- 
ment about  the  goodness  of  God,  is  just  such 
an  application.     He  will  not  be  severe  upon 
our  weaknesses ;  he  will  not  cast  a  glance 
of  stern  and  unrelenting  indignation  upon 
us.     It  is  true,  that  there  is  to  be  met  with, 
among  the  vilest  dregs  and  refuse  of  society, 
a  degree  of  profligacy  for  which  it  would 
really  be  too  much  to  expect  forgiveness. 
The  use  of  hell  is  for  the  punishment  of  such 
gross  and   enormous  wickedness  as  this 
But  the  people  who  are  so  very  depraved, 
and  so  very  shocking,  stand  far  beneath  the 
place  which  *we  occupy  in  the  scale  of 
character.     We,  with  our  many  amiable, 
and  good,  and  neighbourlike  points   and 
accomplishments,  are  fair  and  befitting  sub- 
jects for  the  kindness  of  God.     When  we 
err,  we  shall  betake  ourselves  to  a  trust  in 
that  indulgence,  which  gives  to  our  religion 
the  aspect  of  so  much  cheerfulness;  and 
we  will  school  down  all  that  is  disquieting, 
by  a  sentiment  of  confidence  in  that  mercy 
which  is  soothing  to  our  hearts,  and  which 
we  delight  to  hear  expatiated  upon  in  terms 
of  tastefulness,  by  the  orators  of  a  genteel 
and  cultivated  piety. 

Under  this  loose  system  of  confidence, 
then,  by  which  the  peace  of  so  man)*-  a  sin- 
ner is  upheld,  it  is  the  general  mercy  of 
God  on  which  he  rests.  I  shall,  therefore, 
in  the  first  place,  endeavour  to  prove  the 
vanity  of  such  a  confidence ;  and,  in  the 
second  place,  the  evils  of  it. 

I.  There  is  one  obvious  respect,  in  which 
this  mercy  that  is  so  slenderly  spoken  of, 
and  so  vaguely  trusted  in,  is  not  in  unison 
with  truth ;  and  that  is,  it  is  not  the  mercy 
which  has  been  made  the  subject  of  an 
actual  offer  from  God  to  man,  in  the  true 


XV.J 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


103 


message  that  he  has  been  pleased  to  de- 
liver to  the  world.  In  this  message,  God 
makes  a  free  offer  of  his  mercy,  no  doubt; 
but  he  offers  it  on  a  particular  footing,  and 
on  that  footing  only,  will  he  have  it  to  be 
received.     Along   with   the  revelation   he 

is  <<i'  his  attribute  of  mercy,  lie  bids  us 
look  to  the  particular  way  in  which  he 
chooses  that  attribute  to  be  put  forth.  The 
man  who  steps  forward  to  relieve  you  of 
your  debts,  by  an  act  of  gratuitous  kind- 
ness, may  surely  reserve  the  privilege  of 
doing  it  in  his  own  way ;  and  whether  it 
be  by  a  present  in  goods,  or  by  a  present 
in  money,  or  by  an  order  upon  a  third  per- 
son, or  by  the  appointment  of  one  whom  he 
makes  the  agent  of  his  beneficence,  and 
whom  he  asks  you  to  correspond  with  and 
to  draw  upon,  it  would  surely  be  most  pre- 
posterous in  you  to  quarrel  with  his  gene- 
rosity, because  it  would  have  been  more  to 
your  taste,  had  it  come  to  you  through  a 
different  channel  of  conveyance.  He  has  a 
fair  right  of  insisting  upon  his  own  way  of 
it;  and  if  you  will  not  acquiesce  in  this  way, 
and  he  leaves  you  under  your  burden,  you 
have  nothing  to  complain  of.  You  might 
have  liked  it  better  had  he  authorized  you 
to  draw  upon  himself,  rather  than  on  the 
agent  he  has  fixed  upon.  But  no;  he  has 
his  reasons,  and  he  persists  in  his  own  way 
of  it,  and  you  must  either  go  along  with 
this  way,  or  throw  yourself  out  of  the 
benefit  of  his  generosity  altogether.  It  is 
conceivable  that,  in  spite  of  all  this,  you 
may  be  so  very  perverse  as  to  draw  upon 
himself,  instead  of  drawing  upon  the  au- 
thorized ag  iht.  Well,  the  effect  is,  just  that 
your  draft  is  dishonoured,  and  your  debt 
still  lies  upon  you;  and,  by  your  wilful  re- 

tice  to  the  plan  of  relief  laid  down,  are 
left  to  remain  under  the  full  weight  of  your 
embarrassm 

And  so  of  God.  He  may,  and  he  actu- 
ally has  stepped  forward,  to  relieve  us  from 
that  debt  of  sin  under  which  we  lie.  But 
he  has  taken  his  own  way  of  it.  He  has 
not  left  us  to  dictate  the  matter  to  him, — 
but  he  himself  has  found  out  a  ransom.  He 
offers  us  eternal  life;  but  he  tells  us  where 
this  is  to  be  found,  even  in  his  Son,  and  he 
bids  us  look  unto  him,  and  be  saved;  and 
he  says,  thai  he  who  hath  the  Son  hath 
life,  and  that  he  who  believeth  not  the  Son, 
the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him.  To  re- 
strain, as  it  were,  our  immediate  approaches 
to  himself,  he  reveals  an  agent,  a  Mediator 
between  God  and  man, — and  he  lets  us 
know,  that  no  one  cometh  unto  the 
Father,  but  by  him.  He  makes  a  free  offer 
of  salvation, — but  it  is  in  and  through  Jesus 
Christ,  to  whom  the  whole  revealed  word 
of  Go  1  directs  our  eye,  as  the  prime  agent 
in  the  recovery  of  a  guilty  world.  To  say 
that  we  have  our  infirmities,  but  God  is 
merciful,  is  like  drawing  direct  upon  God 


himself.  But  God  tells  us  that  he  will  not 
be  so  drawn  upon.  He  chooses,  and  has  he 
not  the  right  of  choosing,  to  bestow  all  his 
favours  upon  a  guilty  world,  in  and  through 
his  Son  Christ  Jesus?  If  you  choose  to 
object  to  this  way,  you  must  just  abide 
by  the  consequences.  The  offer  is  made. 
God  sets  himself  forward  as  merciful.  But 
he  lets  you  know,  at  the  same  time,  the 
particular  way  in  which  he  chooses  to  be 
so.  This  way  may  be  an  offence  to  you. 
You  would,  perhaps,  have  liked  better,  had 
there  been  no  Christ,  no  preaching  of  his 
cross,  nothing  said  about  his  cleansing  and 
peace-speaking  blood, — in  a  word,  nothing 
of  all  that  which  forms  the  burden  of 
methodistical  sermons,  and  which,  if  met 
with  in  the  New  Testament  at  all,  is  only 
to  be  found  in  what  you  may  think  its  dark 
and  mystical  passages.  It  would  have  been 
more  congenial  to  your  taste,  perhaps,  had 
you  been  left  to  the  undisturbed  enjoyment 
of  your  own  soothing  and  elegant  concep- 
tions,— could  you  just  have  gone  direct  to 
God  himself,  whom  the  eye  of  your  ima- 
gination had  stripped  of  all  tremeutious  se- 
verity against  sin,  of  all  the  pure  and  holy 
jealousies  of  his  nature,  of  all  thai  is  ma- 
jestic in  the  high  attributes  of  truth  and 
righteousness.  A  God  singly  possessed  of 
tenderness,  in  virtue  of  which,  he  would 
smile  connivance  at  all  our  infirmities,  and 
bend  an  indulgent  eye  over  the  wayward- 
ness of  a  heart  devoted  with  all  its  af- 
fections to  the  vanities  and  pleasures  of 
time, — this  would  be  a  God  highly  suited 
to  the  taste  and  convenience  of  a  guilty 
world.  But,  alas !  there  is  no  such  God. 
To  trust  in  the  mercy  of  such  a  Being  as 
this,  is  to  lean  on  a  nonentity  of  your  own 
imagination.  It  is  to  be  led  astray,  by  a 
fancy  picture  of  your  own  forming.  There 
is  no  other  God  to  whom  you  can  repair 
for  mercy,  but  God  in  Christ,  reconciling 
the  world  unto  himself,  and  not  imputing 
unto  them  their  trespasses.  And  if  you 
resist  the  preaching  of  Christ  as  foolish- 
ness,— if  you  will  not  recognize  him,  but  per- 
sist in  your  hoping,  and  your  trusting,  on  the. 
general  ground  that  God  is  merciful,  you 
are  just  wrapping  yourselves  up  in  a  delu- 
sive confidence,  and  pleasing  yourselves 
with  your  own  imagination  ;  and  the  only 
real  offer  that  ever  was,  or  ever  will  be 
made  to  sinful  man,  you  are  putting  away 
from  you.  The  mercy  upon  which  you 
rest,  is  in  disunion  with  truth.  It  is  a  spark 
of  your  own  kindling,  and  if  you  continue 
to  walk  in  it,  it  will  lead  you  into  a  path  of 
darkness,  and  bewilder  you  to  your  final 
undoing. 

II.  The  evils  of  such  a  confidence  as  we 
have  been  attempting  to  expose,  are  mainly 
reducible  to  two,  which  we  shall  consider 
in  order. 

First,  this  delusive  confidence  casts  an 


104 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


aspersion  on  the  character  of  God.  It 
would  inflict  a  mutilation  upon  that  cha- 
racter. It  is  confidence  in  such  a  mercy  as 
would  dethrone  the  lawgiver,  and  establish 
the  anarchy  of  a  wild  misrule,  over  his 
fallen  and  dishonoured  attributes.  We  may 
lightly  take  up  with  the  conception  that 
God  is  all  tenderness,  and  nothing  else,  and 
thus  try  to  accommodate  the  character,  of 
the  Eternal,  to  the  standard  of  our  own 
convenience  and  our  own  wishes.  We, 
instead  of  looking  to  the  immutability  of  the 
Godhead,  and  taking  our  fixed  and  perma- 
nent lesson  from  such  a  contemplation,  may 
fancy  of  the  Godhead,  that  he  is  ever  as- 
suming a  new  shape,  and  a  new  character, 
according  to  the  frail  and  fluctuating  ca- 
prices of  human  opinion.  Instead  of  God 
making  man  according  to  his  pleasun  ,  man 
would  form  God  in  the  mould  of  his  own 
imagination.  He  forgets  that,  in  the  whole 
range  of  existence,  he  can  only  meet  with 
one  object  who  is  inflexibly  and  ever- 
lastingly the  same,  and  that  is  God, — that 
lie  may  sooner  think  of  causing  the  ever- 
lasting hills  to  recede  from  their  basis,  than 
of  causing  an  infringement  on  the  nature 
of  the  unalterable  Deity,  or  on  the  designs 
and  maxims  which  support  the  method  of 
his  administration, — that  to  assume  a  cha- 
racter for  him  in  our  own  mind,  instead  of 
learning  what  the  character  is  from  himself, 
is  in  fact  to  make  the  foolish  thought  of  the 
creature,  paramount  to  the  eternal  and  im- 
mutable constitution  of  the  Creator. 

Let  us  therefore  give  up  our  own  concep- 
tions, and  look  steadily  to  that  light  in  which 
God  hath  actually  put  himself  forth  to  us. 
He  has  dealt  out  a  variety  of  communications 
respecting  his  own  ever-during  character 
and  attributes,  to  the  children  of  men ;  and 
he  tells  us,  that  he  is  a  God  of  truth,  and 
that  he  is  jealous  of  his  honour,  and  that  he 
will  not  be  mocked,  and  that  heaven  and 
earth  shall  pass  away,  ere  any  of  his  words 
passaway.  Letusjust  attend  to  some  of  these 
words.  He  who  continues  not  in  the  whole 
book  of  this  law,  is  accursed.  The  whole 
world  is  guilty  before  God.  He  will  by  no 
means  clear  the  guilty.  Without  shedding 
of  blood,  there  is  no  remission.  These  are 
the  words  of  God.  He  has  put  them  into  a 
record.  Every  one  of  us  may  read  them, 
and  compare  the  sayings  of  God,  with  the 
doings  of  God,  and  if  they  do  not  correspond, 
the  one  with  the  other,  we  may  charge  him 
with  falsehood  in  the  face  of  his  insulting 
enemies,  and  lift  the  voice  of  mockery 
against  him,  and  feel  the  triumph  which 
rebels  feel,  when  they  witness  the  timidity 
of  a  feeble  monarch,  who  does  not,  or  dares 
not,  carry  his  threats  into  accomplishment. 
And  is  it  possible,  that  the  throne  of  the 
eternal  God  can  rest  on  a  basis  so  tottering, — 
or  that,  if  ever  he  shall  descend  to  the  mani- 
festation of  mercy,  he  will  not  give  the 


manifestation  of  his  truth  and  his  righteous- 
ness along  with  it  ? 

Now,  those  who,  without  any  reference 
to  Christ,  find  their  way  to  comfort  on  the 
strength  of  their  own  general  confidence 
in  God's  mercy,  make  no  account  whatever 
of  his  truth,  or  his  righteousness.    What  be- 
comes of  the  threatenings  of  God  ?    What 
becomes  of  the  immutability  of  his  pur- 
poses?   What  becomes  of  the  unfailing  truth 
of  all  his  communications?    What  becomes 
of  the  solemnity  of  his  warnings  ?  and  how  is 
it  possible  to  be  at  all  impressed  by  them, — 
if  they  are  ever  and  anon  done  away  by  a 
weak  and  capricious  system  of  connivance? 
What  becomes  of  the  wide  and  everlasting 
distinctions,  between   obedience   and   sin  ? 
What  becomes  of  the  holiness  of  the  Deity  ? 
What  becomes  of  reverence  for  his  name, 
among  the  wide  circle  of  angels,  and  arch- 
angels, and  seraphim,  and  cherubim,  who 
have  all    heard   his  awful    proclamations, 
against  the  children  of  iniquity, — if  they 
see  that  any  one  of  them  may,  by  a  mere 
act  of  confidence  in  his  mercy,  turn  all  that 
has  been  uttered  against  them  into  an  un- 
meaning parade?    Where,  in  a  word,  are 
all  those  sanctions  and  securities  which  can 
alone  make  the  government  of  the  Deity 
to  be  a  government  at  all?    These  are  all 
questions  which  the  people  to  whom  we 
allude,  never  think  of  entertaining;  nor  do 
they  feel  the  slightest  concern  about  them  • 
and  they  count  it  quite  enough,  if  they  can 
just  work  themselves  up  into  such  a  tolera- 
ble feeling  of  security,  as  that  they  shall 
not  be  disturbed  in  the  quiet  enjoyment  of 
the  good  things  of  this  life,  which  form  all 
in  fact  that  their  hearts  long  after,  and  which 
if  only  permitted  to  retain  in  peace,  they 
positively  care  not  for  the  glory  of  God,  or 
how  shall  it  be  kept  inviolate.    This  is  not 
their  affair.    The  engrossing  desire  of  their 
bosoms,  is  just  a  selfish  desire  after  their 
own  ease:  and  the  strange  preparation  lor 
that  heaven,  the  unceasing  song  of  which 
is,  Holy  and  righteous  are  thy  judgments, 
O  thou  king  of  Saints,  is  such  a  habit  of 
confidence,  as  lays  prostrate  all  the  majesty 
of  these  high  and  unchangeable  perfections. 
And   yet  if  you  examine  these  people 
closely,  you  will  obtain  their  consent  to  the 
position,  that  there  is  a  law,  and  that  the  hu- 
man race  are  bound  to  obedience,  and  that  the 
authority  of  the  law  is  supported  by  sanc- 
tions, and  that  the  truth,  and  justice,  and 
dignity  of  the  Supreme  Being,  are  involved 
in  these  sanctions  being  enforced  and  exe- 
cuted. They  do  not  refuse  the  tenet  that  man 
is  an  accountable  subject,  and  that  God  is  a 
judge  and  a  lawgiver.    All  that  we  ask  of 
them,    then,   is,   to   examine   the  account 
which  this  subject  has  to  render,  and  they 
will  find,  in  characters  too  glaring  to  be  re- 
sisted, that,  with  the  purest  and  most  per- 
fect individual  amongst  us,  it  is  a  wretched 


XV.] 


DEPRAVITY   OF    HUMAN    NATURE. 


105 


account  of  guilt  and  of  deficiency.  That 
Law,  which  is  held  to  be  in  full  authority 
and  operation  over  us,  has  been  most  un- 
questionably violated.  Now,  what  is  to  be 
made  of  this  ?  Is  the  subject  to  rebel,  and 
disobey  every  hour,  and  the  king,  by  a  per- 
petual act  of  indulgence,  to  efface  every 
character  of  truth  and  dignity  from  his 
nnent?  Do  this  and  you  depose  the 
legislator  from  his  throne.  You  reduce 
•  inction  of  his  law  to  a  name  and  a 
mockery.  You  bring  down  the  high  eco- 
nomy of  heaven,  to  the  standard  of  human 
convenience.  You  pull  the  fabric  of  God's 
moral  government  to  pieces;  and  unsub- 
stantiate  all  the  solemnity  of  his  proclaimed 
sayings.— all  the  lofty  annunciations  of  the 
.  .ill  of  the  prophets, — all  that  is  told 
of  the  mighty  apparatus  of  the  day  of  judg- 
ment, all  that  revelation  points  to,  or  con- 
science can  suggest,  of  a  living  and  a  reign- 
ing Cod,  who  will  not  let  himself  down  to 
be  affronted,  or  trampled  upon,  by  the  crea- 
tures whom  he  has  formed. 

They  who,  in  profession,  admit  the  truth 
of  God,  and  yet  take  comfort  from  his  mercy, 
without  looking  to  him  who  bare  in  his 
own  person,  the  accomplishment  of  all  the 
threatenings,  do  in  fact  turn  that  truth  into 
a  lie.  They,  who,  in  profession,  admit  the 
justice  of  God,  and  yet  trust  in  the  remis- 
sion of  their  sins,  without  any  distinct  ac- 
knowledgement of  him  on  whom  God  has 
laid  the  burden  of  their  condemnation,  do 
in  fact  prove,  that  in  their  mouths  justice  is 
nothing  but  an  .unmeaning  articulation. 
They  who,  in  profession,  admit  the  autho- 
rity of  those  great  and  unchanging  princi- 
ples, which  preside  over  the  whole  of  God's 
moral  administration,  and  yet  assign  to  him 
such  aloose  and  easy  connivance  at  iniquity, 
as  by  a  mere  act  of  tenderness,  to  recal  the 
every  denunciation  that  he  had  uttered 
against  it,  do  in  fact  put  forth  a  sacrile- 
gious hand,  to  the  pillars  of  that  immuta- 
bility, by  which  the  government  of  creation 
is  upheld  and  perpetuated.  Let  them  rest 
assured,  that  there  is  no  way  of  reconci- 
liation,hut  such  a  way  as  shields  all  the  holy, 
and  pure,  and  inflexible  attributes  of  the 
Divinity,  from  degradation  and  contempt. 

Out  of  that  hiding-place  which  is  made 
known  in  the  gospel,  all  that  is  just,  and 
severe,  and  inflexible  in  the  perfections  of 
God,  stands  in  threatening  array  against 
every  son  and  daughter  of  the  species.  And 
if  they  wilt  not  look  to  God  as  he  sets  him- 
self forth  to  us  in  the  New  Testament, — if 
they  refuse  to  look  unto  him  as  God  in 
Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself, 
and  not  imputing  unto  them  their  tres- 
passes,— if  they  set  aside  all  that  is  said 
about  the  blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant, 
and  the  new  and  living  way  of  access,  and 
the  manner  in  which  the  mediatorship  of 
Christ  hath  repaired  all  the  indignities  of 
14 


sin,  and  shed  a  glory  over  the  truth  and 
justice  of  the  lawgiver, — if  they  will  still 
persist  in  looking  to  him  through  another 
channel  than  that  of  his  own  revelation;  he 
will  persist  in  looking  to  them  with  the 
aspect  of  a  stern  and  unappeased  enemy. 
He  will  not  let  down  the  honours  of  his 
inflexible  character,  for  the  sake  of  those 
who  refuse  his  way  of  salvation.  He  will 
not  fall  in  with  the  delusions  of  those  who 
profess  to  revere  this  character,  and  then 
shake  the  whole  burden  of  conscious  guilt 
and  infirmity  away  from  them,  by  the  pre- 
sumption, that  in  some  way  or  other,  the 
mercy  of  God  will  interpose  to  defend  them 
from  the  vengeance  of  his  more  severe  and 
unrelenting  perfections.  The  one  and  the 
only  way,  in  which  he  dispenses  mercy,  is 
through  the  atonement  of  Christ,— and  if 
your  confidence  be  laid  in  any  other  quarter, 
he  will  put  that  confidence  to  shame.  He 
will  not  accept  the  prayers  of  those,  who 
can  thus  make  free  with  the  unchangeable 
attributes  which  belong  to  him.  He  will 
not  descend  with  such  to  any  intercourse 
of  affection  whatever.  He  will  not  own  the 
approaches,  nor  will  he  deal  out  any  boon 
from  the  storehouse  of  his  grace,  to  those 
who  profess  a  general  confidence  in  his 
mercy — when,  instead  of  a  mercy  which 
guards,  and  dignifies,  and  keeps  entire  the 
whole  glory  and  character  of  God,  it  is  a 
mercy  which  belies  his  word,  which  invades 
his  other  perfections,  which  spoils  the  divine 
image  of  its  grandeur,  which  breaks  up  the 
whole  fabric  of  his  moral  government,  and 
would  make  the  throne  of  heaven  the  seat 
of  an  unmeaning  pageant,  the  throne  of  an 
insulted  and  degraded  sovereign. 

The  religion  of  nature, — or  the  religion 
of  unaided  demonstration, — or  the  religion 
of  our  most  fashionable  and  philosophical 
schools,  leaves  this  question  totally  undis- 
posed of; — and  at  the  same  time,  till  the 
question  be  resolved,  all  the  hopes  of  the 
human  soul  are  in  a  state  of  the  most  fearful 
uncertainty.  This  religion  makes  God  the 
subject  of  its  demonstrations,  and  it  draws 
out  a  list  of  attributes,  and  it  makes  the 
justice  of  God  to  be  one  of  these  attributes, 
and  the  placability  of  God  to  be  another  of 
them,  and  it  admits  that  it  is  in  virtue  of  the 
former  perfection  of  his  nature,  that  he 
makes  condemnation  and  punishment  to 
rest  on  the  head  of  those  who  violate  his 
law,  and  that  it  is  in  virtue  of  the  latter 
perfection  that  he  looks  connivance,  and 
extends  pardon  to  such  violations. 

Now,  the  question  which  the  disciples  of 
this  religion  have  never  settled,  is,  how  to 
strike  the  compromise  between  these  attri- 
butes. They  cannot  dissipate  the  cloud  of 
mystery,  which  hangs  over  the  line  of  de- 
marcation that  is  between  them.  They 
cannot  tell  in  how  far  the  justice  of  God 
will  insist  on  its  exactions  and  its  claims,  or 


106 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


[SERM. 


what  the  extent  of  that  disobedience  is, 
over  which  the  placability  of  God  will 
spread  the  shelter  of  a  generous  forgive- 
ness. There  is  a  dilemma  here,  out  of 
which  they  cannot  unwarp  themselves, — a 
question  to  which  they  can  give  no  other 
answer,  than  the  expressive  answer  of  their 
silence, — and  it  is  such  a  silence,  as  -leaves 
our  every  apprehension  unquelled,  and  the 
whole  burden  of  our  unappeased.  doubts 
and  difficulties  as  insupportable  as  before. 
What  we  demand  is,  that  they  shall  lay 
down  the  steady  and  unalterable  position 
of  that  limit,  at  which  the  justice  of  God, 
and  the  placability  of  God,  cease  their 
respective  encroachments  on  each  other. 
If  they  cannot  tell  this,  they  can  tell  nothing 
that  is  of  any  consequence,  either  to  the 
purpose  of  comfort,  or  of  direction.  The 
sinner  wishes  to  know  on  which  side  of 
this  unknown  and  undetermined  limit,  his 
degree  of  sinfulness  is  placed.  He  wishes 
to  know  whether  his  offences  are  such  as 
come  under  the  operation  of  justice,  or  of 
mercy, — whether  the  one  attribute  will 
exact  from  him  the  penalty,  or  the  other 
will  smile  on  him  connivance.  It  is  in  vain 
to  say,  that  if  he  repent  and  turn  from  them, 
mercy  will  claim  him  as  her  own,  and  re- 
cover him  from  the  dominion  of  justice, 
and  spread  over  all  his  sins  the  mantle  of 
an  everlasting  oblivion.  This  may  still  be 
saying  nothing, — for  the  work  of  repent- 
ance is  a  work,  which,  though  he  should  be 
always  trying,  he  always  fails  in;  and  in 
spite  of  his  every  exertion,  there  is  a  sin 
and  a  shortness  in  all  his  services.  And 
when  he  casts  his  eye  along  the  scale  of 
character,  he  sees  the  better  and  the  worse 
on  each  side  of  him ;  and  the  difficulty  still 
recurs,  how  far  down  in  the  scale  does 
mercy  extend,  or  how  far  up  on  this  scale 
does  justice  carry  its  fiery  sentence  of  con- 
demnation. And  thus  it  is,  that  he  feels  no 
fixed  security,  which  he  can  lay  hold  of, — 
no  solid  ground  on  which  he  can  lay  the 
trust  of  his  acceptance  with  God.  And 
this  religion,  which  has  left  the  whole 
problem  of  the  attributes  undetermined, 
which  can  furnish  the  sinner  with  no  light, 
by  which  he  may  be  made  to  perceive  how 
justice  can  be  displayed,  but  at  the  expense 
of  mercy,  or  how  mercy  can  be  displayed, 
but  by  breaking  in  upon  the  entireness  of 
justice  ;  this  hollow,  baseless,  unsupported 
system,  which,  by  mangling  and  deforming 
the  whole  aspect  of  the  Deity,  has  virtually 
left  man  without  God, — has  also,  by  the 
faint  and  twilight  obscurity,  or  rather  by 
the  midnight  darkness  in  which  it  has  in- 
volved the  question  about  the  point  of  sin- 
fulness, at  which  the  one  attribute  begins 
the  exercise  of  its  rigour,  and  the  other 
jeases  its  indulgence,  not  only  left  man 
without  God,  but  also  left  him  without  any 
solid  hope  in  the  world. 


But,  Secondly,  the  confidence  we  have 
been  attempting  to  expose,  is  hostile  to 
the  cause  of  practical  righteousness  in  the 
world. 

For  what  is  the  real  and  experimental 
effect  of  the  obscurity  in  question  on  the 
practice  of  mankind  ?  The  question  about 
our  interest  with  God,  is  felt  to  be  unre- 
solvable ;  and,  under  this  feeling,  no  genuine 
attempt  is  made  to  resolve  it.  Man  eases 
himself  of  the  difficulty  by  putting  it  away 
from  him;  and,  as  he  cannot  find  the  point 
of  gradation  in  the  scale  of  character,  on 
the  one  side  of  which,  there  lies  acceptance 
with  God,  and  on  the  other  side  of  it,  con- 
demnation,— he  just  upholds  himself  in 
tranquillity  at  any  one  point,  throughout 
every  one  variety  of  this  gradation. 

Let  the  question  only  be  put,  How  far 
down,  in  the  scale  of  character,  may  this 
loose  system  of  confidence  be  carried  ?  and 
where  is  the  limit  between  those  sins,  to 
which  forgiveness  may  be  looked  for,  and 
those  sins  from  which  it  is  withheld  ?  and 
you  will  seldom  find  the  man  who  gives 
an  answer  against  himself.  The  world,  in 
fact,  is  so  much  the  home  and  the  resting- 
place  of  every  natural  man,  that  you  will 
not  get  him  so  to  press,  and  so  to  prosecute 
the  question,  as  to  come  to  any  conclusion, 
that  is  at  all  likely  to  alarm  him.  He  will 
not  barter  his  present  peace,  for  a  concern 
that  looks  so  distant  to  him  as  that  of  his 
eternity.  The  question  touches  but  lightly 
on  his  feelings,  and  an  answer  conceived 
lightly,  and  given  lightly,  will  be  enough  to 
pacify  him.  Go  to  the  man,  whose  decent 
and  unexceptionable  proprieties  make  him 
the  admiration  of  all  his  acquaintances,  and 
even  he  will  allow  that  he  has  his  infirmities ; 
but  he  can  smother  all  his  aj  prehensions, 
and  regale  his  fancy  with  the  smile  of  an 
indulgent  God.  Take,  now,  a  descending 
step  in  the  scale  of  character;  and  do  you 
think  there  is  not  to  be  met  with  there,  the 
very  same  process  of  conscious  infirmity 
on  the  one  hand,  and  of  vague,  general,  and 
bewildering  confidence  on  the  other?  Will 
the  people  of  the  lower  station  not  do  the 
very  same  thing  with  the  people  above 
them? — Compare  themselves  with  them- 
selves, and  find  equals  to  keep  them  in 
countenance,  and  share  in  the  average 
respect  that  circulates  around  them,  and 
take  comfort  in  the  review  of  their  very 
fair  and  neighbourlike  accomplishments, 
and  with  the  allowance  of  being  just  such 
sinners  as  they  are  in  the  daily  habit  of 
associating  with,  get  all  their  remorse,  and 
all  their  gloomy  anticipations  disposed  of, 
by  throwing  the  whole  burden  of  them,  in 
a  loose  and  general  way,  on  the  indulgence 
of  God? 

And  where,  in  the  name  of  truth  and  of 
righteousness,  will  this  stop  ?  We  can  an- 
swer that  question.    It  will  not  stop  at  all. 


XVI.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE- 


107 


It  will  describe  the  whole  range  of  human 
character ;  and  we  challenge  you  to  put 
your  finger  on  that  point  where  it  is  to  ter- 
minate, or  to  find  out  the  place  where  a 
barrier  is  to  be  raised  against  the  pro- 
gress of  this  mischievous  security.  It  will 
go  downwards  and  downwards,  till  it  come 
to  the  very  verge  of  the  malefactor's  dungeon. 
Nay,  it  will  enter  there ;  and  we  doubt  not, 
that  an  enlightened  discerner  may  witness, 
even  in  this  receptacle  of  outcasts,  the  ope- 
ration of  the  very  sentiment  which  gives 
such  peace  and  such  buoyancy  to  him  whose 
moral  accomplishments  throw  around  him 
the  lustre  of  a  superior  estimation.  But 
this  lustre  will  not  impose  on  the  eye  of 
God.  The  Discerner  of  the  heart  sees  that 
one  and  all  of  us  are  alienated  from  him, 
and  strangers  to  the  obligation  of  his  high 
and  spiritual  acquirements.  He  declares 
the  name  of  Christ  to  be  the  only  one  given 
under  heaven,  whereby  men  can  be  saved ; 
and  after  this,  every  act  of  confidence,  dis- 
owning his  name,  is  an  expression  of  the 
most  insulting  impiety.  On  the  system  of 
general  confidence,  every  man  is  left  to  sin 
just  as  much  as  he  likes,  and  to  take  com- 
fort just  as  much  as  his  powers  of  delu- 
sion can  administer  to  him.  At  this  rate, 
the  government  of  God  is  unhinged, — the 
whole  earth  is  broken  loose  from  the  sys- 
tem of  his  administration, — he  is  deposed 
from  his  supremacy  altogether, — peace, 
when  there  is  no  peace,  spreads  its  deadly 
poison  over  the  face  of  society, — and  one 
sentiment,  of  deep  and  fatal  tranquillity 
about  the  things  of"  God,  takes  up  its  firm 
residence  in  a  world,  which,  from  one  end 
to  the  other  of  it,  sends  up  the  cry  of  re- 
bellion against  him. 

This  is  a  sore  evil.  The  want  of  a  fixed 
and  clearly  perceptible  line  between  the 
justice  and  placability  of  the  divine  nature, 
not  only  buries  in  utter  darkness  the  ques- 
tion of  our  acceptance  with  God ;  but,  by 
throwing  every  thing  loose  and  undeter- 
mined,  it  opens  up  the  range  of  a  most 
lawless  and  uncontrolled  impunity  for  the 
disobedience  of  man,  up  from  its  gentler 
deviations,  and  down  to  its  most  profligate! 


and  daring  excesses.  If  there  be  no  intel- 
ligible line  to  separate  the  exercise  of  the 
justice  of  Cod  from  the  exercise  of  his 
placability,  every  individual  will  fix  this 
line  for  himself;  and  he  will  make  these 
two  attributes  to  be  yea  and  nay,  or  fast 
and  loose  with  each  other;  and  he  will 
stretch  out  the  placability,  and  he  will  press 
upon  the  justice,  just  as  much  as  to  ac- 
commodate the  standard  of  his  religious 
principles  to  the  slate  of  his  religious  prac- 
tice; and  he  will  make  every  thing  to 
square  with  his  own  existing  taste,  and 
wishes,  and  convenience ;  and  his  mind 
will  soon  work  its  own  way  to  a  system 
of  religious  opinions  which  gives  him  no 
disturbance;  and  the  spirit  of  a  deep  slum- 
ber will  lay  hold  of  his  deluded  conscience ; 
and  thus,  from  the  want  of  a  settled  line, — 
from  the  vague,  ambiguous,  and  indefinite 
way  in  which  this  matter  is  taken  up,  and 
brought  to  a  very  loose  and  general  con- 
clusion,— or,  in  other  words,  from  that  very 
way  in  which  natural  religion,  whether 
among  deists,  or  our  more  slender  profes- 
sors of  Christianity,  leaves  the  whole  ques- 
tion, about  the  limit  of  the  attributes,  unen- 
tered upon, — will  every  man  take  comfort 
in  the  imagined  tenderness  of  God,  just  as 
much  as  he  stands  in  need  of  it,  and  expe- 
riment on  the  patience  of  God  just  as  far  as 
his  natural  desires  may  carry  him, — so  that 
when  we  look  to  the  men  of  the  world,  as 
they  pass  smoothly  onward,  from  the  cra- 
dle to  the  grave,  do  we  see  each  of  them  in 
a  state  of  profound  security  as  to  his  inter- 
est with  God  ;  each  of  them  solacing  him- 
self with  his  own  conception  about  the 
slenderness  of  his  guilt,  and  the  kindness 
of  an  indulgent  Deity ;  each  of  them  in  a 
state  of  false  and  fancied  peace  with  Hea- 
ven, while  every  affection  of  the  inner  man, 
and  many  of  the  doings  of  the  outer  man, 
bear  upon  them  the  stamp  of  rebellion 
against  Heaven's  law ;  each  of  them  walk- 
ing without  uneasiness,  and  without  terror, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  each  and  all  of 
them  do  in  fact  walk  in  the  counsel  of  their 
own  hearts,  and  after  the  sight  of  their  own 
eyes. 


SERMON  XVI. 

The  Union  of  Truth  and  Mercy  in  the  Gospel. 
1  Mercy  and  truth  are  met  together :  righteousness  and  peace  have  kissed  each  other." — Psalm  lxxxv.  10. 


It  was  not  by  a  simple  deed  of  amnesty, 
that  man  was  invited  to  return  and  be  at 
peace  with  God.  It  was  by  a  deed  of  ex- 
piation. It  was  not  by  nullifying  the  sanc- 
tions of  the  law,  that  man  was  offered  a 


free  and  a  full  discharge  from  the  penalties 
he  had  incurred  by  breaking  it.  It  was  by 
executing  these  sanctions  on  another,  who 
voluntarily  took  them  upon  himself,  and 
who,  in  so  doing,  magnified  the  law,  and 


108 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


made  it  honourable.  To  redeem  us.  from 
the  curse  of  the  law,  Christ  became  a  curse 
for  us.  It  was  not  by  God  lifting  off  our 
iniquities  from  our  persons,  and  scattering 
them  away  into  a  region  of  forgetfulness, 
without  one  demonstration  of  his  abhor- 
rence, and  without  the  fulfilment  of  his 
threatenings  against  them ;  but  lifting  them 
off  from  us,  he  laid  them  on  another,  who 
bare,  in  his  own  person,  the  punishment 
that  we  should  have  borne.  God  laid  upon 
his  own  Son  the  iniquities  of  us  all.  The 
guilt  of  our  sins  is  not  done  away  by  a 
mere  act  of  forgiveness.  It  is  washed  away 
by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  God  set  him 
forth  a  propitiation.  He  was  smitten  for 
our  transgressions.  He  gave  himself  for 
Us  an  offering  and  a  sacrifice  to  God.  The 
system  of  the  gospel  no  more  expunges 
the  attribute  of  mercy  from  the  character 
of  the  Godhead,  than  it  expunges  the  attri- 
butes of  truth  and  righteousness.  But  all 
the  mercy  which  it  offers  and  proclaims  to 
a  guilty  world,  is  the  mercy  which  flows 
upon  it  thrpugh  the  channel  of  that  Media- 
torship,  by  which  his  truth  and  his  justice 
have  been  asserted  and  vindicated ;  and, 
while  it  reveals  to  us  the  openness  of  this 
channel,  it  also  reveals  to  us  that  every 
other  which  the  heart  of  man  may  con- 
ceive, is  shut,  and  intercepted,  and  utterly 
impassable.  There  is  none  other  name 
given  under  heaven,  whereby  man  can  be 
saved,  but  the  name  of  him  who  poured 
out  his  soul  unto  the  death  for  us.  With- 
out the  shedding  of  his  blood,  there  could 
have  been  no  remission.  And  he  who  hath 
not  the  Son,  hath  the  wrath  of  God  abiding 
on  him. 

It  is  due  to  our  want  of  moral  sensibility, 
that  sin  looks  so  light  and  so  trivial  in  our 
estimation.  We  have  no  adequate  feeling 
"of  its  malignity,  of  its  exceeding  sinfulness. 
A.nd,  liable  as  we  are  to  think  of  God,  that 
he  is  altogether  like  unto  ourselves,  do  we 
think  that  he  may  cancel  our  guilt  as  easily 
from  the  book  of  his  condemnation,  by  an 
act  of  forgiveness,  as  we  cancel  it  from  our 
own  memory,  by  an  act  of  forgetfulness. 
But  God  takes  his  own  way,  and  most 
steadfastly  asserts,  throughout  the  whole 
process  of  our  recovery,  the  prerogatives  of 
his  own  truth,  and  his  own  righteousness. 
He  so  loved  the  world,  as  to  send  his  Son 
to  it,  not  to  condemn,  but  to  save.  But  he 
will  not  save  us  in  such  a  way  as  to  con- 
firm our  light  estimation  of  sin,  or  to  let 
down  the  worth  and  dignity  of  his  own 
character.  The  method  of  our  salvation  is 
not  left  to  the  random  caprices  of  human 
thought,  and  human  fancy.  It  is  a  method 
devised  for  us  by  unsearchable  wisdom, 
and  made  known  to  us  by  fixed  and  unal- 
terable truth,  and  prescribed  to  us  by  a  su- 
preme authority,  which  has  debarred  every 
other  method ;  and  though  we  may  behold 


no  one  feature,  either  of  greatness  or  ot 
beauty  to  admire  in  it — yet  do  angels  ad- 
mire it;  and  to  accomplish  it,  did  the  Son 
of  God  move  from  the  residence  of  his  glory , 
and  all  heaven  appears  to  have  laboured 
with  the  magnitude  and  the  mystery  of  the 
great  undertaking:  and  along  the  whole 
tract  of  revelation,  from  the  first  age  of  the 
world,  do  we  behold  the  notices  of  the 
coming  atonement ;  and  while  man  sits  at 
his  ease,  and  can  see  nothing  to  move  him 
either  to  gratitude  .or  to  wonder,  in  the 
evolution  of  that  mighty  scheme,  by  which 
mercy  and  truth  have  been  made  to  meet 
together,  and  righteousness  and  peace  to 
kiss  each  other, — it  is  striking  to  mark  the 
place  and  the  prominency  which  are  given 
to  it,  in  the  councils  of  the  Eternal.  And 
it  might  serve  to  put  us  right,  and  to  re- 
buke the  levities  which  are  so  currently 
afloat  in  this  dead  and  darkened  world,  did 
we  only  look  at  the  stress  that  is  laid  on 
this  great  work,  throughout  the  whole  of 
its  preparation  and  its  performance, — and 
how,  to  bring  it  to  its  accomplishment,  the 
Father  had  to  send  the  Son  into  the  world, 
and  to  throw  a  veil  over  his  glory, — and  to 
put  the  cup  of  our  chastisement  into  his 
hand, — and  to  bid  the  sword  of  righteous 
vengeance  awake  against  his  fellow, — and, 
that  he  might  clear  a  way  of  access  to  a 
guilty  world,  had  to  do  it  through  the 
blood  of  an  everlasting  covenant, — and  to 
lay  the  full  burden  of  our  atonement,  on  the 
head  of  the  innocent  sufferer,— ard  to  en- 
dure the  spectacle  of  his  bitterness,  and  his 
agonies,  and  his  tears,  till  he  cried  out  that 
it  was  finished,  and  so  bowed  himself  and 
gave  up  the  ghost. 

Man  is  blind  to  the  necessity,  but  God 
sees  it.  The  prayer  of  Christ  in  his  agony 
was,  that  the  cup,  if  possible,  might  be  re- 
moved from  him.  But  it  was  not  possible. 
He  could  have  called  twelve  legions  of  an- 
gels, and  they  would  have  eagerly  flown  to 
rescue  their  beloved  Lord  from  the  hands 
of  his  persecutors.  But  he  knew  that  the 
Scripture  must  be  fulfilled,  and  they  look- 
ed on  in  silent  forbearance.  It  behooved 
him  to  undergo  all  this.  And  there  was  a 
need,  and  a  propriety,  why  he  should  suf- 
fer all  these  things,  ere  he  entered  into  his 
glory. 

We  shall  offer  three  distinct  remarks  on 
this  method  of  our  redemption,  in  order  to 
prove  that  it  fulfils  the  whole  assertion  of 
our  text,  that  it  has  made  mercy  and  truth 
to  meet  together,  and  righteousness  and 
peace  to  kiss  each  other. 

First,  it  maintains  the  entireness  and 
glory  of  all  the  attributes  of  the  Godhead. 
Secondly,  it  provides  a  solid  foundation  for 
the  peace  of  every  sinner  who  concurs  in 
it.  And,  thirdly,  it  strengthens  all  the  se- 
curities for  the  cause  of  practical  righteous- 
ness among  men. 


XVI.] 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


100 


I.  In  darkness,  as  we  are,  about  the  glory 
and  character  of  the  Supreme  Being,  it 
would  offer  a  violence  even  to  our  habitual 
conceptions  of  him,  to  admit  of  any  limit, 
or  any  deduction  from  the  excellencies  of 
Ins  nature.  We  should  even  think,  it  a  lessen- 
ing of  the  Deity,  were  the  extent  of  his 
perfections  such,  as  that  we  should  be  able 
to  grasp  them  within  the  comprehension 
of  our  understandings.  The  property  of 
chiefest  admiration  to  his  creatures  is,  that 
they  know  but  a  part,  and  are  not  aware 
how  small  a  part  that  is,  to  what  is  un- 
known ;  ami  never  is  their  obeisance  more 
lowly,  than  when,  under  the  sense  of  a 
greatness  that  is  undefined  and  unsearch- 
able, they  feel  themselves  baffled  by  the  in- 
finitude of  the  Creator.  It  is  not  his  power, 
as  attested  by  all  that  exists  within  the 
limits  of  actual  discovery ;  but  his  power, 
as  conceived  to  form  and  uphold  a  uni- 
verse, whose  outskirts  are  unknown. — It  is 
not  his  wisdom,  as  exhibited  in  what  has 
been  seen  by  human  eye;  but  his  wisdom, 
as  pervading  the  unnumbered  secresies  of 
mechanism,  which  no  eye  can  penetrate. 
It  is  not  his  knowledge,  as  displayed  in  the 
greater  and  prophetic  outlines  of  the  his- 
tory of  this  world ;  but"  his  knowledge,  as 
embracing  all  the  mazes  of  creation,  and 
all  the  mighty  periods  of  eternity. — It  is 
not  his  antiquity,  as  prior  to  all  that  is  visi- 
ble, and  as  reaching  far  above  and  beyond 
the  remote  infancy  of  nature ;  but  his  an- 
tiquity, as  retiring  upwards  from  the  lof- 
tiest ascent  of  our  imaginations,  and  lost  in 
the  viewless  depth  of  an  existence,  that 
was  from  everlasting. — These  are  what 
serve  to  throne  the  Deity  in  grandeur  inac- 
cessible. It  is  the  thought  of  what  eye  hath 
not  seen,  and  ear  hath  not  heard,  neither 
hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to 
conceive,  that  places  him  on  such  a  height 
of  mystery  before  us.  And  should  we  ever 
be  able  to  overtake,  in  thought,  the  dimen- 
sions of  any  attribute  that  belongs  to  him, 
— and  far  more  should  we  ever  be  able  to 
outstrip,  in  fancy,  a  single  feature  of  that 
character  which  is  realised  by  the  living 
and  reigning  God, — should  defect  or  im- 
potency  attach  to  him  who  dwelleth  in  the 
light  which  no  man  can  approach  unto, 
would  we  feel  as  if  all  our  most  rooted  and 
accustomed  conceptions  of  the  Godhead 
had  sustained  an  overthrow,  would  we  feel 
as  if  the  sanctuary  of  him  who  is  the  King 
eternal  and  invisible  had  suffered  violence. 
And  this  is  just  as  true  of  the  moral  as 
of  the  natural  attributes  of  the  Godhead. 
When  we  think  of  his  truth,  it  is  a  truth 
which,  if  heaven  and  earth  stand  committed 
to  the  fulfilment  of  its  minutest  article, 
heaven  and  earth  must,  for  its  vindication, 
pass  away.  When  we  think  of  his  holiness, 
it  is  such  that,  if  sin  offer  to  draw  nigh,  a 
devouring  fire  goeth  forth  to  burn  up  and  to 


destroy  it.  When  we  think  of  his  law,  it  is 
a  law  which  must  be  made  honourable 
even  though,  by  the  enforcement  of  its 
sanctions,  it  shall  sweep  into  an  abyss  of 
misery  all  the  generations  of  the  rebellious. 
And  yet  this  God,  just,  and  righteous,  and 
true,  is  a  God  of  love,  and  of  compassion, 
infinite.  He  is  slow  to  anger,  and  of  great 
mercy.  He  does  not  afflict  willingly  ;  and 
as  a  father  rejoices  over  his  children,  does 
he  long  to  rejoice  in  tenderness  over  us  all ; 
and  out  of  the  store-house  of  a  grace  that  is 
inexhaustible,  does  he  deal  out  the  offers 
of  pardon  and  reconciliation  to  every  one 
of  us.  Even  in  some  way  or  other  does  the 
love  of  God  for  his  creatures  find  its  way 
through  the  barrier  of  their  sinfulness ;  and 
he  who  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold 
iniquity, — he  who  hath  spoken  the  word, 
and  shall  he  not  perform  it, — he  of  whose 
law  it  has  been  said,  that  not  one  jot  or  one 
tittle  of  it,  shall  pass  away,  till  all  be  ful- 
filled,— he  holds  out  the  overtures  of  friend- 
ship to  the  children  of  disobedience,  and 
invites  the  guiltiest  among  them  to  the 
light  of  his  countenance,  in  time,  and  to  the 
enjoyment  of  his  glory  and  presence,  in 
eternity. 

There  is  no  one  device  separate  from  the 
gospel,  by  which  the  glory  of  any  one  of 
these  attributes  can  be  exalted,  but  by  the 
surrender  or  the  limitation  of  another  attri- 
bute. It  is  in  the  gospel  alone  that  we  per- 
ceive how  each  of  them  may  be  heightened 
to  infinity,  and  yet  each  of  them  reflect  a 
lustre  on  the  rest.  When  Christ  died,  jus- 
tice was  magnified.  When  he  bore  the 
burden  of  our  torment,  the  truth  of  God  re- 
ceived its  vindication.  When  the  sins  of 
the  world  brought  him  to  the  cross,  the 
lesson  taught  by  this  impressive  spectacle 
was,  holiness  unto  the  Lord.  All  the  se- 
verer perfections  of  the  Godhead,  were,  in 
fact,  more  powerfully  illustrated  by  the 
deep  and  solemn  propitiation  that  was  made 
for  sin,  than  they  could  have  been  by  the 
direct  punishment  of  sin  itself. — Yet  all  re- 
dounding to  the  triumph  of  his  mercy. — 
For  mercy,  in  the  exercise  of  a  simple  and 
spontaneous  tenderness,  does  not  make  so 
high  an  exhibition,  as  mercy  forcing  its 
way  through  restraints  and  difficulties, — as 
mercy  accomplishing  its  purposes  by  a 
plan  of  unsearchable  wisdom, — as  mercy 
surrendering  what  was  most  dear  for  the 
attainment  of  its  object,— as  the  mercy  of 
God,  not  simply  loving  the  world,  but  so 
loving  it  as  to  send  his  only  beloved  Son, 
and  to  lay  upon  him  the  iniquities  of  us 
all, — as  mercy,  thus  surmounting  a  barrier 
which,  to  created  eye,  appeared  immove- 
able, and  which  both  pours  a  glory  on  the 
other  excellencies  of  the  Godhead,  and  re- 
joices over  them. 

It  is  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  which  has 
poured  the  light  of  day  into  all  the  intri 


110 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[sERM. 


cacies  of  this  contemplation.  We  there  see 
no  compromise,  and  no  surrender,  of  the 
attributes  to  each  other.  We  see  no  mutual 
encroachment  on  their  respective  provinces, 
— no  letting  down  of  that  entire  and  abso- 
lute perfection  which  belongs  to  every  part 
in  the  character  of  the  Godhead.  The  jus- 
tice of  God  has  not  been  invaded ;  for  by 
him,  who  poured  out  his  soul  unto  the 
death  for  us,  has  the  whole  weight  of  this 
aggrieved  and  offended  attribute  been  borne ; 
and  from  that  cross  of  agony,  where  he 
cried  out  that  it  was  finished,  does  the  di- 
vine Justice  send  forth  a  brighter  and  a 
nobler  radiance  of  vindicated  majesty,  than 
if  the  minister  of  vengeance  had  gone  forth 
and  wreaked  the  whole  sentence  of  con- 
demnation on  every  son  and  daughter  of 
the  species.  And  as  the  justice  of  God  has 
suffered  no  encroachment,  so,  such  is  the 
admirable  skilfulness  of  this  expedient,  that 
the  mercy  of  God  is  restrained  by  no  limi- 
tation. It  is  arrested  in  its  offers  by  no 
questions  about  the  shades,  and  the  degrees, 
and  the  varieties  of  sinfulness.  It  stops  at 
no  point  in  the  descending  scale  of  human 
depravity.  The  blood  of  Christ  cleansing 
from  all  sin,  has  spread  such  a  field  for  its 
invitations,  that  in  the  full  confidence  of  a 
wairanted  and  universal  commission,  may 
the  messengers  of  grace  walk  over  the  face 
of  the  world,  and  lay  the  free  gift  of  ac- 
ceptance at  the  door  of  every  individual, 
and  of  every  family.  Such  is  the  height, 
and  depth,  and  breadth,  and  length,  of  the 
mercy  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus ;  and  yet  it  is 
a  mercy  so  exercised,  as  to  keep  the  whole 
council  and  character  of  God  unbroken, — 
and  a  mercy,  from  the  display  of  which, 
there  beams  a  brighter  radiance  than  ever 
from  each  lineament  in  the  image  of  the 
Godhead. 

Now  if  the  glory  of  God  be  so  involved 
in  this  way  of  redemption,  what  shall  we 
think  of  the  disparagement,  that  is  rendered 
to  him,  and  to  all  his  attributes,  by  the  man 
who,  without  respect  to  the  work  and  the 
righteousness  of  Christ,  seeks  to  be  justified 
by  his  own  righteousness?  It  is  quite  possi- 
ble for  man  to  toil  and  to  waste  his  strength 
on  the  object  of  his  salvation,  and  yet,  by  all 
he  can  make  out,  may  be  only  widening 
his  laborious  deviation  from  the  path  which 
leads  to  it.  Do  his  uttermost  to  establish  a 
righteousness  of  his  own,  and  what  is  the 
whole  fruit  of  his  exertion  ? — the  mere 
semblance  of  righteousness,  without  the  in- 
fusion of  its  essential  quality, — labour  with- 
out love,— the  drudgery  of  the  hand,  without 
the  desire  and  devotedness  of  the  heart,  as 
its  inspiring  principle.  If  the  man  be  dis- 
satisfied, as  he  certainly  ought  to  be,  then  a 
sense  of  unexpiated  guilt  will  ever  and  anon 
intrude  itself  upon  his  fears;  and  a  resist- 
less conviction  of  the  insufficiency  of  all  his 
performances  will  never  cease  to  haunt  and 


to  paralyze  him.  In  these  circumstances, 
there  may  be  the  conformity  of  the  letter 
extorted  from  him,  in  the  spirit  of  bondage ; 
but  the  animating  soul  is  not  there,  which 
turns  obedience  into  a  service  of  delight  and 
a  service  of  affection.  In  Heaven's  account, 
such  obedience  as  this  is  but  the  mockery 
of  a  lifeless  skeleton ;  and,  even  as  a  skele- 
ton, it  is  both  wanting  in  its  parts,  and 
unshapely  in  its  proportions.  It  is  an  obe- 
dience defective,  even  in  the  tale  and  mea- 
sure of  its  external  duties.  But  what  per- 
vades the  whole  of  it  by  the  element  of 
worthlessness  is,  that,  destitute  of  love  to 
God,  it  is  utterly  destitute  of  a  celestial  cha- 
racter, and  can  never  prepare  an  inhabitant 
of  this  world  for  the  joys  or  the  services  of 
the  great  celestial  family. 

And,  on  the  other  hand,  if  the  man  be 
satisfied,  this  very  circumstance  gives  to  the 
righteousness  that  he  would  establish  for 
himself,  the  character  of  an  insult  upon 
God,  instead  of  a  reverential  offering.  It  is 
a  righteousness  accompanied  with  a  certain 
measure  of  confident  feeling,  that  it  is  good 
enough  for  the  acceptance  of  the  Lawgiver. 
There  is  in  it  the  audacity  of  a  claim  and 
a  challenge  upon  his  approbation.  Short 
as  it  is,  in  respect  of  outward  performance, 
and  tainted  within  by  the  very  spirit  of 
earthliness,  it  is  brought  like  a  lame  and  dis- 
eased victim  in  sacrifice,  and  laid  upon  the 
altar  before  him.  It  is  an  evil  and  a  bitter 
thing  to  sin  against  God ;  but  it  is  a  still 
more  direct  outrage  upon  his  attributes,  to 
expect  that  he  will  look  on  sinfulness  with 
complacency.  It  is  an  open  defiance  to  the 
law,  to  trample  upon  its  requirements  ;  but 
it  were  a  still  deadlier  overthrow  of  its  au- 
thority, to  reverse  its  sanctions,  and  make 
it  turn  its  threatenings  into  rewards.  The 
sinner  who  disobeys  and  trembles,  renders 
at  least  the  homage  of  his  fears  to  the  truth 
and  power  of  the  Eternal.  But  the  sinner 
who  makes  a  righteousness  of  his  infirmi- 
ties; and  puts  a  gloss  upon  his  disobedience, 
and  brings  the  accursed  thing  to  the  gate  of 
the  sanctuary,  and  bids  the  piercing  eye  of 
Omniscience  look  upon  it,  and  be  satisfied, 
— tell  us  whether  the  fire  which  cometh 
forth  will  burn  up  the  offering,  that  it  may 
rise  in  sweetly  smelling  savour  to  him  who 
sitteth  on  the  throne  ;  or  will  it  seize  on  the 
presumptuous  offerer,  who  could  thus  dare 
the  inspection,  and  thrust  his  unprepared 
footstep  within  the  precincts  of  unspotted 
holiness  1 

And  how  must  it  go  to  aggravate  the  of- 
fence of  such  an  approach,  when  it  is  made 
in  the  face  of  another  righteousness  which 
God  himself  hath  provided,  and  in  which 
aione  he  hath  proclaimed  that  it  is  safe  for 
a  sinner  to  draw  nigh.  When  the  alterna- 
tive is  fairly  proposed,  to  come  on  the  merit 
of  your  own  obedience  and  tried  by  it,  or 
to  come  on  the  merit  of  the  obedience  of 


XVI. J 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


Ill 


Christ,  and  receive  in  your  own  person  the 
reward  which  lie  hath  purchased  for  you, — 
only  think  of  the  aspect  it  must  bear  in  the 
eye  of  Heaven,  when  the  offer  of  the  perfect 
righteousness  is  contemptuously  set  aside, 
and  the  sinner  chooses  to  appear  in  his  own 
character  before  the  prepence  of  the  Eternal. 
When  the  imputation  of  vanity  and  useless- 
ness  is  thus  fastened  on  all  that  the  Son  hath 
done,  and  on  all  that  the  Father  hath  devised 
for  the  redemption  of  the  guilty, — when 
that  righteousness,  to  accomplish  which, 
Christ  had  to  travail  in  the  greatness  of  his 
strength,  is  thus  held  to  be  nothing,  by  crea- 
tures whose  every  thought,  and  every  per- 
formance, have  the  stain  of  corruption  in 
them — when  that  doctrine  of  his  death,  on 
which,  in  the  book  of  God's  counsel,  is  made 
to  turn  the  deliverance  of  our  world,  is 
counted  to  be  foolishness, — when  the  sinner 
thus  persists  in  obtruding  his  own  virtue  on 
the  notice  of  the  Lawgiver,  and  refuses  to 
put  on,  as  a  covering  of  defence,  the  virtue 
of  his  Saviour, — we  have  only  to  contrast 
the  lean,  shrivelled,  paltry  dimensions  of  the 
one,  with  the  faultless,  and  sustained,  and 
Godlike  perfection  of  the  other,  to  perceive 
how  desperate  is  the  folly,  and  how  un- 
escapable  is  the  doom  of  him  who  hath 
neglected  the  great  salvation. 

It  is  thus  that  the  refusal  of  Christ,  as  our 
righteousness,  stamps  a  deeper  and  a  more 
atrocious  character  of  rebellion  on  the  guilty 
than  before, — and  it  is  thus  that  the  word 
of  his  mouth,  like  a  two-edged  sword,  per- 
forms one  function  on  him  who  accepts, 
and  an  opposite  function  on  him  who  de- 
spises it.  If  the  gospel  be  not  the  savour  of 
life  unto  life,  it  will  be  the  savour  of  death 
unto  death.  If  it  be  not  a  rock  of  confi- 
dence, it  will  be  a  rock  of  offence,  and  it  will 
fall  upon  him  who  resists  it,  and  grind  him 
into  powder.  If  we  kiss  not  the  Son,  in  the 
day  of  our  peace,  the  day  of  his  wrath  is 
coming,  and  who  shall  be  able  to  stand  when 
his  anger  is  kindled  but  a  little?  We  have 
already  offended  God  by  the  sinfulness  of 
our  practice, — we  may  yet  offend  him  still 
more  by  the  Imughtiness  of  our  pretensions. 
The  evil  of  our  best  works  constitutes  them 
an  abomination  in  his  sight;  but  nothing 
remains  to  avert  the  hostility  of  his  truth 
and  his  holiness  against  us,  if  by  those  works 
we  seek  to  be  justified.  It  will  indeed  be 
the  sealing  up  of  our  iniquity,  if  our  obe- 
dience, impregnated  as  it  is  with  the  very 
spirit  of  that  iniquity,  shall  be  set  up  in  rival- 
ship  to  the  obedience  of  his  only  and  well 
beloved  Son, — if.  by  viewing  the  defect  of 
our  righteousness,  as  a  thing  of  indifference, 
and  the  fulness  of  his,  as  a  thing  of  no  value, 
we  shall  heap  insult  upon  transgression, — 
and  if,  after  the  provocation  of  a  broken  law, 
we  shall  maintain  the  boastful  attitude  of 
him  who  hath  won  the  merit  and  there- 
ward  of  victory,  and  in  this  attitude  add  the 


farther  provocation  of  a  slighted  and  re- 
jected gospel. 

II.  We  shall  conclude,  for  the  present, 
these  brief  and  imperfect  remarks,  by  ad- 
verting to  the  solidity  of  that  foundation  of 
peace,  which  the  gospel  scheme  of  mercy 
provides  for  every  sinner  who  concurs  in 
it.  It  is  altogether  worthy  of  observation, 
how,  under  this  exquisite  contrivance,  the 
very  elements  of  disquietude  in  a  sinner's 
bosom,  are  turned  into  the  elements  of  com- 
fort and  confidence  in  the  mind  of  a  be- 
liever. It  is  the  unswerving  truth  of  God, 
which  haunts  the  former  by  the  thought  of 
the  certainty  of  his  coming  vengeance.  But 
this  very  truth,  committed  to  the  fulfilment 
of  all  those  promises,  which  are  yea  and 
amen  in  Christ  Jesus,  sustains  the  latter  by 
the  thought  of  the  certainty  of  his  coming 
salvation.  It  is  justice,  unbending  justice, 
which  sets  such  a  seal  on  the  condemnation 
of  the  disobedient,  that  every  sinner  who  is 
out  of  Christ,  feels  it  to  be  irrevocable.  In 
Christ,  this  attribute,  instead  of  a  terror,  be- 
comes a  security ;  for  it  is  just  in  God  to 
justify  him  who  believes  in  Jesus.  It  is  the 
sense  of  God's  violated  authority  which  fills 
the  heart  of  an  awakened  sinner  with  the 
fear  that  he  is  undone.  But  this  authority 
under  the  gospel  proclamation,  is  leagued 
on  the  side  of  comfort,  and  not  of  fear ;  for 
this  is  the  commandment  of  God,  that  we 
believe  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
as  he  has  given  us  commandment.  It  is  not 
by  an  act  of  mercy,  triumphing  over  the 
other  attributes,  that  pardon  is  extended  to 
the  sinful ;  for,  under  the  economy  of  the 
gospel,  these  attributes  are  all  engaged  on 
the  side  of  mercy;  and  God  is  not  only 
merciful,  but  he  is  faithful  and  just  in  for- 
giving the  sins  of  those  who  accept  of  Christ, 
as  he  is  offered  to  them  in  the  gospel.  Those 
very  perfections,  then,  which  fix  and  neces- 
sitate the  doom  of  the  rebellious,  form  into 
a  canopy  of  defence  around  the  head  of  the 
believer.  The  guarantees  of  a  sinner's  pun- 
ishment now  become  the  guarantees  of 
promise;  and  while,  like  the  flaming  sword 
at  the  gate  of  paradise,  they  turn  every 
way,  and  shut  him  out  of  every  access  to 
the  Deity  but  one, — let  him  take  to  that 
one,  and  they  instantly  become  to  him  the 
sureties  and  the  safe-guard  of  that  hiding- 
place  into  which  he  has  entered. 

The  foundation,  then, of  abeliever's  peace, 
is,  in  every  way,  as  sure  and  as  solid  as  is 
the  foundation  of  a  sinner's  fears.  The  very 
truth  which  makes  the  one  tremble,  because 
staked  to  the  execution  of  an  unfulfilled 
threat,  ministers  to  the  other  the  strongest 
consolation.  It  is  impossible  for  God  to  lie, 
says  an  awakened  sinner,  and  this  thought 
pursues  him  with  the  agony  of  an  arrow 
sticking  fast.  It  is  impossible  for  God  to 
lie,  says  a  believer ;  and  as  he  hath  not  only 
said  but  sworn,  there  are  two  immutable 


112 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


tilings  by  which  to  anchor  the  confidence 
of  him  who  hath  fled  for  refuge  to  the  hope 
set  before  him.  He  staggers  not  at  the 
promises  of  God,  because  of  unbelief.  He 
holds  himself  steadfast,  by  simply  counting 
him  to  be  faithful  who  hath  promised.  It 
is  through  that  very  faith,  by  being  strong 
in  which    he  gives  glory  to  God,  that  he 


gains  peace  to  his  own  heart ;  and  the  jus- 
tice which  beams  a  terror  on  all  who  stand 
without,  utterly  passes  by  the  shielded  head 
of  him  who  hath  turned  to  the  strong  hold, 
and  taken  a  place  under  the  shadow  of  his 
wings,  who  hath  satisfied  the  justice  of  God, 
and  taken  upon  hiuisdf  the  burden  of  its 
fullest  vindication. 


SERMON  XVII. 


The  purifying  Influence  of  the  Christian  Faith- 


"  Sanctified  by  faith." — Acts  xxvi.  18. 


III.  It  is  a  matter  of  direct  and  obvious 
understanding,  how  the  law,  by  its  promises 
and  its  threatenings,  should  exert  an  influ- 
ence over  human  conduct.  We  seem  to 
walk  in  a  plain  path,  when  we  pass  onwards 
from  the  enforcements  of  the  law,  to  the 
effect  of  them  on  the  fears,  and  the  hopes, 
and  the  purposes  of  man.  Do  this,  and  you 
shall  live  ;  and  do  the  opposite  of  this,  and 
you  shall  forfeit  life,  form  two  clear  and 
distinct  processes,  in  the  conceiving  of 
which,  there  is  no  difficulty  whatever.  The 
motive  and  the  movement  both  stand  intel- 
ligibly out  to  the  discernment  of  common 
sense ;  nor  in  the  application  of  such  argu- 
ment as  this,  to  the  design  of  operating  on 
the  character  or  life  of  a  human  being,  is 
there  any  mystery  to  embarrass,  any  hidden 
step,  which,  by  baffling  our  every  attempt 
to  seize  upon  it,  leaves  us  in  a  state  of  help- 
less perplexity. 

The  same  is  not  true  of  the  gospel,  or  of 
the  manner  in  which  it  operates  on  the 
springs  of  human  action.  It  is  not  so  rea- 
dily seen  how  its  privileges  can  be  appro- 
priated by  faith,  and  at  the  same  time  its 
precepts  can  retain  their  practical  authority 
over  the  conduct  of  a  believer.  There  is  an 
alarm,  and  an  honest  alarm,  on  the  part  of 
many,  lest  a  proclamation  of  free  grace  unto 
the  world,  should  undermine  all  our  securi- 
ties for  the  cause  of  righteousness  in  the 
world.  They  look  with  jealousy  upon  the 
freeness.  They  fear  lest  a  deed  so  ample 
and  unconditional,  of  forgiveness  for  the 
past,  should  give  rise,  in  the  heart  of  a  sin- 
ner, to  a  secure  opinion  of  its  impunity  for 
the  future.  What  they  dread  is,  that  to  pro- 
claim such  a  freeness  of  pardon  on  the  part 
of  God,  would  be  to  proclaim  a  correspond- 
ing freeness  of  practice  on  the  part  of  man. 
They  are  able  to  comprehend  how  the  law, 
by  its  direct  enforcements,  should  operate 
in  keeping  men  from  sin ;  but  they  are  not 
able  to  comprehend  how,  when  not  under 
the  law,  but  under  grace,  theie  should  con- 


tinue the  same  motives  to  abstain  from  sin, 
as  those  intelligible  ones  which  the  law 
furnishes,  or  even  other  motives  of  more 
powerful  operation.  We  are  quite  sure  that 
there  is  something  here  which  needs  to  be 
made  plain  to  the  understandings  of  a  very 
numerous  class  of  inquirers, — a  knot  of  dif- 
ficulty which  needs  to  be  untied, — a  hidden 
step  in  the  process  of  explanation,  on  which 
they  may  firmly  pass  from  what  is  known 
to  what  is  unknown.  There  are  not  two 
terms  in  the  whole  compass  of  human  lan- 
guage, which  stand  more  frequently  and 
more  familiarly  contrasted  with  each  other, 
than  those  of  faith  and  good  works;  and 
this,  not  merely  on  the  question  of  our  ac- 
ceptance before  God,  but  also  on  the  ques- 
tion of  the  personal  character  and  acquire- 
ments of  a  true  disciple  of  Christ.  It  is 
positively  not  seen,  how  the  possession  of 
the  one  should  at  all  stimulate  to  the  per- 
formance of  the  other, — how  the  peace  of 
the  gospel  should  reside  in  the  same  heart, 
from  which  there  emanates,  on  the  life  of  a 
believer,  the  practice  of  the  gospel, — how  a 
righteousness  that  is  without  the  deeds  of 
the  law,  should  stand  connected,  in  the  ac- 
tual history  of  him  who  obtains  it,  with  a 
zealous,  and  diligent,  and  every-day  doing 
of  these  deeds. 

There  is  much  in  all  this  to  puzzle  the 
man  who  is  experimentally  a  stranger  to 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  Nor  does  it  at 
all  serve  to  extricate  or  to  enlighten  him, 
when  he  is  made  to  perceive,  that,  in  point 
of  fact,  those  men  who  most  cordially  assent 
to  the  doctrine  of  salvation  being  all  of  grace 
and  not  of  works,  are  most  assiduous  in  so 
walking,  and  in  so  working,  and  in  so  pains- 
taking, as  if  salvation  were  all  of  works, 
and  not  of  grace.  The  fact  is  quite  obvious 
and  unquestionable.  But  the  principle  on 
which  it  rests,  remains  a  mystery  to  the 
general  eye  of  the  world.  They  marvel,  but 
they  go  no  farther.  They  see  that  thus  it 
is,  but  they  see  not  how  it  is ;  and  they  put 


XVII.] 


DEPRAVITY    OF    HUMAN   NATURE. 


113 


it  down  among  those  inexplicable  oddities 
which  do  at  times  occur,  both  in  the  moral 
and  natural  kingdom  of  the  creation. 

But  in  all  our  attempts  to  dissipate  this 
Obscurity,  it  is  well  to  advert  to  the  total 
difference  between  him  who  has  the  faith, 
and  him  who  has  it  not.  The  one  has  the 
materials  of  the  argument  under  his  eye, 
and  within  the  grasp  of  his  handling.  The 
other  may  be  able  to  recognize  in  the  argu- 
ment, a  Logical  and  consistent  process;  but 
he  is  at  a  loss  about  the  simple  conceptions, 
which  form  the  materials  of  the  argument. 
He  is  like  a  man  who  can  perform  all  the 
manipulations  of  an  algebraical  process, 
while  he  feels  not  the  force  or  the  signifi- 
cancy  of  the  symbols.  His  habits  of  ratio- 
cination enable  him  to  perceive,  that  there 
is  a  connexion  between  the  ideas  in  the  ar- 
gument. But  the  ideas  themselves  are  not 
manifest  to  him.  It  is  not  in  the  power  of 
reasoning  to  supply  this  want.  Reasoning 
cannot  create  the  primary  materials  of  the 
argument.  It  only  cements  them  together. 
And  here  it  is,  that  you  are  met  by  the  im- 
potency  of  human  demonstration, — and  are 
reduced  to  the  attitude  of  knocking  at  a 
door  which  you  cannot  open, — and  feel 
your  need  of  an  enlightening  spirit, — and 
are  made  to  perceive,  that  it  is  only  on  the 
threshold  of  Christianity,  where  you  can 
hold  the  intercourse  of  a  common  sympa- 
thy and  understanding  with  the  world, — 
and  that  to  be  admitted  to  the  mysteries  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  you  must  pass  into 
a  region  of  manifestation,  where  the  world 
cannot  follow,  but  where  it  will  cast  the 
imputation  of  madness  and  of  mysticism 
after  you. 

Without  attempting  to  define  faith,  as  to 
the  nature  of  it,  which  could  not  be  done 
but  with  other  words  more  simple  than 
itself,  let  us  look  to  the  objects  of  faith,  and 
see  whether  there  do  not  emanate  from  them, 
a  sanctifying  influence  on  the  heart  of  every 
real  believer. 

First,  then,  the  whole  object  of  faith,  is 
the  matter  of  the  testimony  of  God  in 
Scripture.  So  that  though  faith  be  a  single 
principle,  and  is  designated  in  language  by 
a  single  term, — yet  this  by  no  means  pre- 
cludes  it  from  being  such  a  principle,  as 
comes  into  contact,  and  is  conversant,  with  a 
very  great  variety  of  objects.  In  this  re- 
spect it  may  bear  a  resemblance  to  sight, 
or  hearing,  or  any  other  of  the  senses,  by 
which  man  holds  communication  with  the 
external  things  that  are  near  him,  and 
around  him.  The  same  eye  which,  when 
open,  looks  to  a  friend,  and  can,  from  that 
very  look,  afford  entrance  into  the  heart  for 
an  emotion  of  tenderness,  will  also  behold 
other  visible  things,  and  take  in  an  appro- 
priate influence!  from  each  of  them, — will 
behold  the  prospect  of  beauty  that  is  before 
it,  and  thence  obtain  gratification  to  the 
15 


taste, — or  will  behold  the  sportive  felicity  of 
animals,  and  thence  obtain  gratification  to  the 
benevolence, — or  will  behold  the  precipice 

beneath,  and  thence  obtain  a  warning  of 
danger,  or  a  direction  of  safety, — or  may 
behold  a  thousand  different  objects,  and 
obtain  a  thousand  different  feelings  and 
different  intimations. 

Now  the  same  of  faith.  It  has  been  called 
the  eye  of  the  mind.  But  whether  this  be 
a  well  conceived  image  or  not,  it  certainly 
affords  an  inlet  to  the  mind  for  a  great 
variety  of  communications.  The  Apostle 
calls  faith  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen, — 
not  of  one  such  thing,  but  of  very  many 
such  things.  The  man  who  possesses  faith, 
can  be  no  more  intellectually  blind  to  one  of 
these  things,  and  at  the  same  time  knowing 
and  believing  as  to  another  of  them,  than 
the  man  who  possesses  sight  can,  with  his 
eye  open,  perceive  one  external  object,  and 
have  no  perception  of  another,  which  stands 
as  nearly  and  as  conspicuously  before  him. 
The  man  who  is  destitute  of  sight,  will 
never  know  what  it  is  to  feel  the  charm  of 
visible  scenery.  But  grant  him  sight ;  and 
he  will  not  only  be  made  alive  to  this 
charm,  but  to  a  multitude  of  other  influ- 
ences, all  emanating  from  the  various^  ob- 
jects of  visible  nature,  through  the  eye  upon 
the  mind,  and  against  which  his  blindness 
had  before  opposed  a  hopeless  and  invinci- 
ble barrier.  And  the  man  who  is  destitute 
of  faith,  will  never  know  what  it  is  to  feel 
the  charm  of  the  peace-speaking  blood  of 
Christ.  But  grant  him  faith  ;  and  he  will 
not  only  be  made  alive  to  this  charm,  but 
to  a  multitude  of  other  influences,  all  ema- 
nating from  the  various  truths  of  revela- 
tion, through  this  intellectual  organ,  on  the 
heart  of  him  who  was  at  one  time  blind, 
but  has  now  been  made  to  see.  This  will 
help,  in  some  measure,  to  clear  up  the  per- 
plexity to  which  we  have  just  now  adverted. 
They  who  are  under  its  darkening  influ- 
ence, conceive  of  the  faith  which  worketh 
peace,  that  it  has  only  to  do  with  one  doc- 
trine, and  that  that  one  doctrine  relates  to 
Christ,  as  a  peace-offering  for  sin.  Now,  it 
is  very  true,  that  it  has  to  do  with  this  one 
doctrine ;  but  it  has  also  to  do  with  other 
doctrines,  all  equally  presented  before  it  in 
the  very  same  record,  and  the  view  of  all 
which  is  equally  to  be  had,  from  the  very 
same  quarter  of  contemplation.  In  other 
words,  the  very  same  opening  of  the  men- 
tal eye,  through  which  the  peace  of  the 
gospel  finds  entrance  into  the  bosom  of  a 
faithful  man,  affords  an  entrance  for  the 
righteousness  of  the  gospel  along  with  it. 
The  truth  that  Christ  died  for  the  sins  of 
the  world,  will  cast  upon  his  mind  its  ap- 
propriate influence.  But  so  also  will  the 
truth  that  Christ  is  to  judge  the  world,  and 
the  truth  that  unless  ye  repent  ye  shall 
perish,  and  the  truth  that  they  who  have  a 


114 


DEPRAVITY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE. 


[SEF.M. 


right  to  the  tree  of  life,  are  they  who  keep 
the  commandments,  and  the  truth  that  an 
unrighteous  man  shall  not  inherit  the  king- 
dom of  God.  If  a  man  see  not  every  one 
object  that  is  placed  within  the  sphere  of 
his  natural  vision,  he  sees  none  of  them, 
and  his  whole  body  is  full  of  darkness.  If 
a  man  believe  the  Bible  to  be  the  word  of 
God,  he  will  read  it ;  but  if  he  read  it,  and 
believe  not  every  one  truth  that  lies  within 
the  grasp  of  his  understanding,  he  believes 
none  of  them,  and  is  in  darkness,  and 
knoweth  not  whither  he  is  going. 

If  I  open  the  door  of  my  mind  to  the 
word  of  God,  I  as  effectually  make  it  the 
repository  of  various  truths,  as,  if  I  open 
the  door  of  my  chamber,  and  take  in  the 
Bible,  I  make  this  chamber  the  repository 
of  the  book,  and  of  every  chapter,  and  of 
every  verse,  that  is  contained  in  it.  I  thus 
bring  my  mind  into  contact  with  every  one 
influence,  that  every  one  truth  is  fitted  to 
exercise  over  it.  If  there  be  nothing  in 
these  truths  contradictory  to  each  other, 
(and  if  there  be,  let  this  set  aside,  as  it 
ought,  the  authority  of  the  whole  commu- 
nication,) then  the  mind  acts  a  right  and 
consistent  part  in  believing  each  of  them, 
and  in  submitting  itself  to  the  influence  of 
each  of  them.  And  thus  it  is,  that  believing 
the  propitiation  which  is  through  the  blood 
of  Christ,  for  the  remission  of  sins  that  are 
past,  I  may  feel  through  him  the  peace  of 
reconciliation  with  the  Father;  and  be- 
lieving that  he  who  cometh  unto  Christ  for 
forgiveness  must  forsake  all,  I  may  also 
feel  the  necessity  which  lies  upon  me  of 
departing  from  all  iniquity ;  and  believing 
that  in  myself  there  is  no  strength  for  the 
accomplishment  of  such  a  task,  I  may  look 
around  for  other  expedients,  than  such  as 
can  be  devised  by  my  own  natural  wisdom, 
or  carried  into  effect  by  my  own  natural 
energies;  and  believing  that,  in  the  hand 
of  Christ  there  are  gifts  for  the  rebellious, 
and  that  one  of  these  gifts  is  the  Holy  Spirit 
to  strengthen  his  disciples,  I  may  look  to 
him  for  my  sanctification,  even  as  I  look 
unto  him  for  my  redemption :  and  believing 
that  the  gift  is  truly  promised  as  an  answer 
to  prayer,  I  may  mingle  a  habit  of  prayer, 
with  a  habit  of  watchfulness  and  of  en- 
deavour. And  thus  may  I  go  abroad  over 
the  whole  territory  of  divine  truth,  and  turn 
to  its  legitimate  account  every  separate  por- 
tion of  it,  and  be  in  all  a  trusting,  and  a 
working,  and  a  praying,  'and  a  rejoicing, 
and  a  trembling  disciple, — and  that,  not  be- 
cause I  have  given  myself  up  to  the  guidance 
of  clashing  and  contradictory  principles,; — 
but  because,  with  a  faith  commensurate  to 
the  testimony  of  God,  I  give  myself  over 
in  my  whole  mind,  and  whole  person,  to 
the  authority  of  a  whole  Bible. 

But  secondly,  let  us  take  what  some  may 
think  a  more  restricted  view  of  the  object 


of  faith,  and  suppose  it  to  be  Jesus  Chrisi 
in  his  person  and  in  his  character.  It  is  a 
summary,  but  at  the  same  time  a  most  true 
and  substantial  affirmation,  that  we  are 
saved  by  faith  in  Christ.  And  yet  this  very 
affirmation,  true  as  it  is,  may  have  been  so 
misunderstood  as  to  darken  the  minds  of 
many,  into  the  very  misconception  that  we 
are  attempting  to  expose.  I  could  not  be 
said  to  have  faith  in  an  acquaintance,  if  I 
believed, not  all  that  he  told  me.  Nor  have 
I  faith  in  Christ,  if  I  believe  not  every  item 
of  that  communication  of  which  he  is  the 
author,  either  by  himself  or  by  his  mes- 
sengers. So  that  faith  in  Christ,  so  far  from 
excluding  any  of  the  truths  of  the  Bible, 
comprehends  our  assent  to  them  all.  But 
we  are  willing  to  admit,  that  the  phrase  is 
calculated  to  fasten  our  attention  more  par- 
ticularly on  such  truth  as  relates,  in  a  more 
immediate  manner,  to  the  person  and  the 
doings  of  the  Saviour.  Take  it  in  this 
sense,  and  you  will  find,  that  though  emi- 
nently and  directly  fitted  to  work  peace  in 
the  heart  of  a  believer,  it  is  just  as  directly 
and  powerfully  on  the  side  of  his  practical 
righteousness.  When  I  think  of  Christ,  and 
think  of  him  as  one  who  has  poured  out  his 
soul  unto  the  death  for  me,  I  feel  a  confi- 
dence in  drawing  near  unto  God.  When 
employed  in  this  contemplation,  I  look  to 
him  as  a  crucified  Saviour.  But  without 
keeping  mine  eye  for  a  single  moment  from 
off  his  person, — without  another  exercise 
of  mind,  than  that  by  which  I  look  unto 
Jesus,  simply  and  entirely,  as  he  is  set  forth 
unto  me, — I  also  behold  him  at  one  time  as 
an  exalted  Saviour,  and  at  another  time  as 
a  commanding  Saviour,  and  at  another  time 
as  a  strengthening  Saviour.  In  other  words, 
by  the  mere  work  of  faith  in  Christ,  1  bring 
my  heart  into  contact  with  all  those  motives, 
and  all  those  elements  of  influence,  which 
give  rise  to  the  new  obedience  of  the  gos- 
pel. When  the  veil  betwixt  me  and  the 
Saviour  is  withdrawn, — when  God  shines 
in  my  heart  with  the  light  of  the  know- 
ledge of  his  own  glory  in  the  face  of  his 
Son, — when  the  Spirit  taketh  of  the  things 
of  Christ,  and  showeth  them  unto  me,  and 
I  am  asked  which  of  the  things  it  is  that  is 
most  fitted  to  arrest  a  convicted  sinner,  in 
the  midst  of  his  cries  and  prayers  for  de- 
liverance,— I  would  say,  that  it  was  Christ 
lifted  up  on  the  cross  of  his  offences,  and 
pouring  out  the  blood  of  that  mighty  ex- 
piation, by  which  the  guilt  of  them  all  is 
washed  away.  This  is  the  rock  on  which 
he  will  build  all  his  hopes  of  acceptance 
before  God.  He  will  look  unto  Christ  and 
be  at  peace.  But  this  is  not  the  only  atti- 
tude in  which  Christ  is  revealed  to  him. 
He  will  look  to  Christ  as  an  example.  He 
will  look  to  him  as  a  teacher.  He  will  look 
to  him  in  all  the  capacities  which  are  at- 
tached to  the  person,  or  identified  with  the 


XVII.] 


DEPRAVITY    OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


115 


doings  of  the  Saviour.     He  will  look  to  him, 
asserting  his  right  of  authority  and  disposal 
over  those  whom  he  has  purchased  unto 
himself.     He  will,  by  the  eye  of  faith,  see 
that  rebuking  glance  which  our  Saviour  cast 
over  the  misconduct  of  his  disciples, — and 
which,  when  Peter  saw,  by  the  eye  of  sight, 
he  was  so  moved  by  the  spectacle,  that  he 
went  out  and  wept  bitterly.     That  meek- 
ness and  gentleness  of  Christ,  in  the  name 
of  which,  Paul  besought  his  disciples  to 
walk  no  more  after  the  flesh,  will  be  pre- 
sent in  its  influence  on  those  who,  though 
they  see  him  not,  yet  believe  him,  and  have 
their  conceptions  filled  and  satisfied  with 
his  likeness.     They  will  behold  him  to  be 
an  exalted  Prince,  as  well  as  an  exalted  Sa- 
viour, and  they  will  count  it  a  faithful  say- 
ing, that  he  came  to  sanctify  as  well  as  re- 
deem,— and  they  will  look  upwards  to  his 
present  might  as  a  commander,  as  well  as 
forwards  to  his  future  majesty  as  a  judge, — 
and  they  will  be  thoroughly  persuaded,  that 
to  persevere  in  sin,  is  altogether  to  thwart 
the  great  aim  of  the  enterprize  of  our  re- 
demption,— and  they  will   understand    as 
Paul  did,  who  affirmed,  with  expostulations 
and  tears,  that  the  enemies  of  righteousness 
are  also  the  enemies  of  the  cross ; — and 
thus,  from  Christ,  in  all  his  various  attitudes, 
will  a  moralizing  power  descend  on   the 
hearts  of  those  who  really  believe  in  him, — 
and  as  surely  as  any  man  possesses  the 
faith  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  so  surely  will 
he  be  sanctified  b)f  that  faith. 

And,  thirdly,  let  us  confine  our  attention 
still  farther,  to  one  particular  article  of  our 
faith.  Paul  was  determined  to  know  no- 
thing, save  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified. 
Now,  conceive  faith  to  attach  itself  to  the 
latter  clause  of  this  verse,  and  that  Christ 
crucified,  for  the  time  being,  is  the  single 
object  of  its  contemplation.  There  is  still 
no  such  thing  as  a  true  faith,  attaching 
itself  to  this  one  object  exclusively ;  and 
though  at  one  time  it  may  be  the  sole  con- 
templation which  engrosses  it,  at  other 
times  it  may  have  other  contemplations.  If, 
in  fact,  it  shut  out  those  other  contempla- 
tions, which  an:  furnished  by  the  subject- 
matter  of  the  testimony  of  God,  it  may  be 
proved  now,  and  it  will  be  proved  in  the 
day  of  reckoning,  to  be  no  faith  at  all.  But 
just  as  it  has  been  said,  that  the  mind  can 
only  think  of  one  thing  at  a  time,  so  faith 
may  be  employed,  for  a  time,  in  looking 
only  towards  one  object ;  and  as  we  said  be- 
fore, let  Christ  crucified  be  conceived  to  be 
that  one  object.  From  what  has  been  said 
already,  it  will  be  seen,  that  this  one  exer- 
cise of  faith  will  not  counteract  the  legiti- 
mate effect  of  the  other  exercises.  But  we 
should  like  to  compute  the  influence  of  this 
one  exercise  on  the  heart  and  life  of  a  be- 
liever. In  the  case  of  an  Antinomian,  the 
doctrine  of  the  atonement  may  furnish  a 


pretext  and  a  pacification  to  his  conscience, 
under  a  wilful  habit  of  perseverance  in 
iniquity.  But,  if  this  partial  faith  of  his  be 
not  a  real  faith,  then  we  are  not  responsible 
for  his  conduct,  nor  ought  he  to  be  at  all 
quoted  as  an  exception  against  that  alliance, 
for  which  we  are  contending,  between  the 
faith  of  the  gospel  and  the  cause  of  practical 
righteousness.  Only  grant  the  faith  to  be 
real,  and  as  there  is  no  one  doctrine  of  the 
Bible,  out  of  which  it  may  not  gather  a  pu- 
rifying influence  to  the  heart,  so  out  of  this 
doctrine  of  the  atonement,  will  such  a  puri- 
fying influence  descend  most  abundantly  on 
the  heart  of  every  genuine  believer. 

For,  it  first  takes  away  a  wall  of  partition, 
which,  in  the  case  of  every  man  who  has 
not  received  this  doctrine,  lies  across  the 
path   of  his  obedience  at  the  very  com- 
mencement.    So  long  as  I  think  that  it  is 
quite  impossible  for  me  so  to  run  as  to  ob- 
tain, I  will  not  move  a  single  footstep.    Un- 
der the  burden  of  a  hopeless  controversy 
between  me  and   God,  I   feel  as  it  were 
weighed  down  to  the  inactivity  of  despair. 
I  live  without  hope  ;  and  so  long  as  I  do  so, 
I  live  without  God  in  the  world.     And  be- 
sides, he,  while  the  object  of  my  terror,  is 
also  the  object  of  my  aversion.     The  help- 
less necessity  under  which  I  labour,  so  long 
as  the  question  of  my  guilt  remains  unset- 
tled is  to  dread  the  Being  whom  I  am  com- 
manded to  love.     I  may  occasionally  cast  a 
feeble  regard  towards  that  distant  and  inac- 
cessible Lawgiver :  But  so  long  as  I  view 
him  shrouded  in  the  darkness  of  frowning 
majesty,  I  can  place  in  him  no  trust,  and  I 
can  bear  towards  him  no  filial  tenderness. 
I  may   occasionally   consult    the  require- 
ments of  his  law:  But  when  I  look  to  the 
uncancelled  sentence  that  is  against  me,  I 
can  never  tread,  with  hopeful  or  assured 
footsteps,  on  the  career  of  obedience.     But 
let  me  look  unto  Christ  lifted  up  for  our 
offences,  and  see  the  hand-writing  of  ordi- 
nances that  was  against  us,  and  which  was 
contrary  unto  us,  nailed  to  his  cross,  and 
there  blotted  out  and  taken  out  of  the  way  ; 
and  then  I  see  the  barrier  in  question  level- 
led with  the  ground.  I  now  behold  the  way 
of  repentance  cleared  of  the  obstructions, 
by  which  it  was  aforetime  rendered  utterly 
impassable.    This  is  the  will  of  God  — even 
your  sanctification,  may  be  sounded  a  thou- 
sand times  in  the  ear  of  an  unbeliever,  and 
leave  him  as  immoveable  as  it  found  him; 
because,  while  under  a  sense  of  unexpiated 
guilt,  he  sees  a  mighty  parapet  before  him, 
which  he  cannot  scale.     But  if  the  same 
words  be  sounded  in  the  ears  of  a  believer, 
they  will  put  him  into  motion.    For  to  him 
the  parapet  is  opened  up,  and  the  rough 
way  is  made  smooth,  and  the  mountain  and 
the  hill  are  brought  low,  and  the  valley  of 
separation  is  filled,  and  he  is  made  to  see 
the  salvation  of  God.  The  path  of  obedience 


116 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


[SERM. 


is  made  level  before  him,  and  he  enters  it 
with  the  inspiration  of  a  new  and  invigora- 
ting principle;  and  that  love  to  God,  which 
the  consciousness  of  guilt  will  ever  keep  at 
a  distance  from  the  heart,  now  takes  up  the 
room  of  this  terrifying,  and  paralysing,  and 
alienating  sentiment;  and  the  reception  of 
this  doctrine  of  atonement  is  just  as  much 
the  turning  point  of  a  new  character,  as  it 
is  the  turning  point  of  a  new  hope ;  and  it 
is  the  very  point,  in  the  history  of  every 
human  soul,  at  which  the  alacrity  of  gospel 
obedience  takes  its  commencement,  as  well 
as  the  cheerfulness  of  gospel  anticipations. 
Till  this  doctrine  be  believed,  there  is  no 
attempt  at  obedience  at  all ;  or  else,  it  is 
such  an  obedience  as  is  totally  unanimated 
by  the  life  and  the  love  of  real  godliness. 
And  it  is  not  till  this  doctrine  has  taken 
possession  of  the  mind,  that  any  man  can 
take  up  the  language  of  the  Psalmist,  and 
say,  "  Lord,  I  am  thy  servant,  I  am  thy  ser- 
vant, thou  hast  loosed  my  bonds." 

Conceive,  then,  a  believer  with  the  career 
of  obedience  thus  opened  up  and  made 
hopeful  to  him, — conceive  him  with  the  ne- 
cessity of  obedience  made  just  as  authen- 
tically known  to  him  as  are  the  tidings  of 
his  deliverance  from  guilt, — conceive  a  man 
who,  by  the  act  of  rendering  homage  to  the 
truth  of  God,  rests  a  confidence  in  the  death 
of  Christ  for  pardon,  and  who  also,  by  the 
very  same  act,  subscribes  to  the  sayings  of 
Christ  about  repentance,  and  the  new  walk 
of  the  new  creature, — and  then  let  me  ask 
you  to  think  of  the  securities  which  encom- 
pass his  mind,  and  protect  it  from  the  delu- 
sion that  we  have  already  alluded  to.  We 
have  said  that  the  peace  which  is  felt  in  a 
vague  apprehension  of  God's  mercy,  and 
which  makes  no  account  of  his  truth,  or  of 
his  justice,  has  the  effect  of  making  him 
who  entertains  it  altogether  stationary,  in 
point  of  acquirement.  With  the  semblance 
of  good  that  he  has  about  him,  he  will  meet 
the  sterner  attributes  of  the  Deity.  For  his 
defect  of  real  good,  he  will  draw  on  the  in- 
dulgent attributes  of  the  Deity.  He  will 
make  the  character  of  God,  suit  itself  to  his 
own  character,  so  that  any  stimulus  to  ad- 
vance or  to  perfect  it,  shall  be  practically 
done  away.  And  thus  it  is,  that  along  the 
whole  range  of  human  accomplishment, 
you  may  observe  an  unvaried  state  of  re- 
pose,— the  repose,  in  fact,  of  death, — for  the 
repose  of  man  who  brought  to  the  estimate 
of  a  spiritual  law,  will  be  found,  to  use  the 
significant  language  of  the  Bible,  dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins, — sinning  at  one  time 
without  remorse,  trusting  at  another  time 
without  foundation. 

Now  the  gospel  scheme  of  mercy  is  clear 
of  this  abuse  altogether.  It  comes  forth 
upon  the  sinner  with  an  antidote  against 
this  security,  just  as  strong  and  as  promi- 
nent as  is  its  antidote  against  despair.     In- 


somuch that  the  state  of  the  believer,  in  re- 
spect of  motive  and  of  practical  influence, 
is  the  very  reverse  of  what  we  have  now 
adverted  to.  In  the  act  of  becoming  a  be- 
liever, he  awakens  from  the  deep  and  uni- 
versal lethargy  of  nature.  With  his  new- 
hope  commences  his  new  life.  He  ceases 
to  be  stationary, — and  what  is  more,  he 
never  ceases  to  be  progressive.  He  does 
not  satisfy  himself  with  barely  moving  on- 
wards to  a  higher  point  in  the  scale  of  hu- 
man attainment,  and  then  sitting  down 
with  the  sentiment  that  it  is  enough.  He 
never  counts  it  enough.  The  practical  atti- 
tude of  the  believer  is  that  of  one  who  is 
ever  looking  forwards.  The  practical  move- 
ment of  the  believer  is  that  of  one  who  is 
ever  pressing  forwards.  He  could  not,  with- 
out a  surrender  of  those  essential  principles 
which  make  him  what  he  is,  tarry  at  any 
one  point  in  the  gradation  of  moral  excel- 
lence. It  is  not  more  inseparable  from  him 
to  be  ever  doing  well,  than  it  is  inseparable 
from  him  to  be  ever  aspiring  to  do  better. 
So  that  the  paltry  question  about  the  de- 
grees and  the  comparisons  of  virtue,  he  en- 
tertains not  for  a  moment ;  and,  with  all  the 
aids  and  expedients  of  the  gospel  for  help- 
ing his  advancement,  does  he  strenuously 
prosecute  the  work  of  conforming  to  the 
precept  of  the  gospel, — to  be  growing  in 
grace,  to  be  perfecting  himself  in  holiness. 

It  has  been  a  much  controverted  ques- 
tion, how  far  this  process  of  continual  ad- 
vancement will  carry  a  believer  in  this 
world.  Some  affirm  it  will  carry  him  to 
the  point  of  absolute  perfection.  Others 
more  cautiously  satisfy  themselves  by  the 
remark,  that  whether  perfection  be  ever 
our  attainment  or  not,  it  ought  always  to 
be  our  aim.  And  one  thing  seems  to  be 
certain, — that  there  is  no  such  perfection 
in  this  world,  as  might  bring  along  with  it 
the  repose  of  victory. 

Paul  counted  all  that  wras  behind  as  no- 
thing, and  he  pressed  onwards.  And  it  is 
the  experience  of  every  Christian,  who 
makes  a  real  business  of  his  sanctification, 
that  there  is  a  struggle  between  nature  and 
grace,  even  unto  the  end.  There  is  no  dis- 
charge from  this  warfare,  while  we  are  in 
the  body.  To  the  last  hour  of  life  there 
will  be  the  presence  of  a  carnal  nature  to 
humble  him,  and  to  make  him  vigilant ; 
and,  with  every  true  Christian,  there  will 
be  the  ascendency  of  grace,  so  as  that  this 
nature  shall  not  have  the  dominion  over 
him.  The  corruption  of  the  old  man  will 
be  effectually  resisted ;  but  not,  we  fear,  till 
the  materialism  of  our  actual  frames  be  re- 
solved into  dust,  will  this  corruption  be 
destroyed.  The  flesh  lusting  against  the 
spirit,  and  the  spirit  against  the  flesh,  is  the 
short  but  compendious  description  of  the 
state  of  every  believer  in  the  world  ; — and 
could  the  evil  and  adverse  principle  be 


XVII.] 


DEPRAVITY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 


117 


eradicated,  as  well  as  overborne, — could  a 
living  man  bid  the  sinful  propensity,  with 
all  its  workings  and  all  its  inclinations, 
conclusively  away  from  him, — could  the 
authority  of  the  new  creature  obtain  such 
unrivalled  sway  over  the  whole  machinery 
of  the  affections  and  the  doings,  that  re- 
sistance was  no  longer  felt,  and  the  battle  was 
brought  to  its  termination, — if  it  were  pos- 
sible, we  say,  for  a  disciple,  on  this  side  of 
the  grave,  to  attain  the  eminency  of  a  con- 
dition so  glorious,  then  we  know  not  of 
what  use  to  him  would  be  either  a  death 
or  a  resurrection,  or  why  he  might  not 
bear  his  earthly  tabernacle  to  heaven,  and 
set  him  down  by  direct  translation  amongst 
the  company  of  the  celestial.  But  no ! 
There  hangs  about  the  person  of  the  most 
pure  and  perfect  Christian  upon  earth, 
some  mysterious  necessity  of  dying.  That 
body,  styled  with  such  emphasis  a  vile 
body,  by  the  Apostle,  must  be  pulverized 
and  made  over  again.  And  not  till  that 
which  is  sown  in  corruption  shall  be  raised 
in  incorruption, — not  till  that  which  is 
sown  in  weakness  shall  be  raised  in  power, 
— not  till  that  which  is  sown  a  natural 
body  shall  be  raised  a  spiritual  body, — not 
till  the  soul  of  man  occupy  another  tene- 
ment, and  the  body  which  now  holds  him 
be  made  to  undergo  some  unknown  but 
glorious  transformation,  will  he  know  what 
it  is  to  walk  at  perfect  liberty,  and,  with 
the  full  play  of  his  then  emancipated 
powers,  to  expatiate  without  frailty,  and 
without  a  flaw,  in  the  service  of  his  God. 

We  know  that  the  impression  which 
many  have  of  the  disciples  of  the  gospel  is, 
hat  their  great  and  perpetual  aim  is,  that 
they  may  be  justified, — that  the  change  of 
state  which  they  are  ever  aspiring  after,  is 
■  \  change  in  their  forensic  slate,  and  not  in 
their  personal, — that  if  they  can  only  at- 
tain delivery  from  wrath,  they  will  be  sa- 
tisfied,— and  that  the  only  use  they  make 


of  Christ,  is,  through  his  means,  to  obtain 
an  erasure  of  the  sentence  of  their  con- 
demnation. Now,  though  this,  undoubt- 
edly, be  one  great  design  of  the  gospel,  it 
is  not  the  design  in  which  it  terminates. 
It  may,  in  fact,  be  only  considered  as  a 
preparation  for  an  ulterior  accomplish- 
ment altogether.  Christ. came  to  redeem 
us  from  all  iniquity,  and  to  purify  us  unto 
himself  a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of  good 
works.  It  were  selfishness  under  the  guise 
of  sacredness,  to  sit  down,  in  placid  con- 
tentment, with  the  single  privilege  of  jus- 
tification. It  is  only  the  introduction  to 
higher  privileges. 

But  not  till  we  submit  to  the  righteous- 
ness of  Christ,  as  the  alone  meritorious 
plea  of  our  acceptance,  shall  we  become 
personally  righteous  ourselves, — not  till  we 
see  the  blended  love  and  holiness  of  the 
Godhead,  in  our  propitiation,  shall  we 
know  how  to  combine  a  confidence  in  his 
mercy,  with  a  reverence  for  his  character, 
— not  till  we  look  to  that  great  transac- 
tion, by  which  the  purity  of  the  divine  na- 
ture is  vindicated,  and  yet  the  sinner  is 
delivered  from  the  coming  vengeance,  shall 
we  be  freed  from  the  dominion  of  sin,  or 
be  led  to  admire  and  to  imitate  the  great 
Pattern  of  excellence.  The  renewing  Spirit, 
indeed,  is  withheld  from  all  those  who 
withhold  their  consent  from  the  doctrine 
of  Christ,  and  of  him  crucified.  Paul  was 
determined  to  know  nothing  else ;  and  it  is 
in  this  knowledge,  and  in  this  alone,  that 
we  are  renewed  after  the  image  of  him 
who  created  us. 

Now  the  God  of  peace,  that  brought 
again  from  the  dead  our  Lord  Jesus,  that 
great  Shepherd  of  the  sheep,  through  the 
blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant,  make 
you  perfect  in  every  good  work  to  do  his 
will,  working  in  you  that  which  is  well- 
pleasing  in  his  sight,  through  Jesus  Christ, 
to  whom  be  glory  for  ever  and  ever.  Amen. 


DISCOURSES 


APPLICATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


TO  THE 


COMMERCIAL  AND  ORDINARY  AFFAIRS  OF  LIFE. 


PREFACE. 


The  following  Discourses  can  be  regarded  in  no  other  light,  than  as  the  frag- 
ment of  a  subject  far  too  extensive  to  be  overtaken  within  a  compass  so  narrow. 
There  has  only  a  partial  survey  been  taken  of  the  morality  of  the  actions  that 
are  current  among  people  engaged  in  merchandise  :  and  with  regard  to  the 
morality  of  the  affections  which  stir  in  their  hearts,  and  give  a  feverish  and 
diseased  activity  to  the  pursuits  of  worldly  ambition,  this  has  scarcely  been 
touched  upon,  save  in  a  very  general  way  in  the  concluding  discourse. 

And  yet,  in  the  estimation  of  every  cultivated  Christian,  this  second  branch  of 
the  subject  should  be  by  far  the  most  interesting, — as  it  relates  to  that  spiritual 
discipline  by  which  the  love  of  the  world  is  overcome ;  and  by  which  all  that 
oppressive  anxiety  is  kept  in  check,  which  the  reverses  and  uncertainties  of 
business  are  so  apt  to  inject  into  the  bosom  ;  and  by  which  the  appetite  that  urges 
him  who  hasteth  to  be  rich  is  effectually  restrained — so  as  to  make  it  possible 
for  a  man  to  give  his  hand  to  the  duties  of  his  secular  occupation,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  to  maintain  that  sacredness  of  heart  which  becomes  every  fleeting  traveller 
through  a  scene,  all  whose  pleasures  and  whose  prospects  are  so  soon  to  pass  away. 

Should  this  part  of  the  subject  be  resumed  at  some  future  opportunity,  there 
are  two  questions  of  casuistry  connected  with  it,  which  will  demand  no  small 
degree  of  consideration.  The  first  relates  to  the  degree  in  which  an  affection  for 
present  things,  and  present  interests  ought  to  be  indulged.  And  the  second  is, 
whether,  on  the  supposition  that  a  desire  after  the  good  things  of  the  present  life 
were  reduced  down  to  the  standard  of  the  gospel,  there  would  remain  a  sufficient 
impulse  in  the  world  for  upholding  its  commerce,  at  the  rate  which  would  secure 
the  greatest  amount  of  comfort  and  subsistence  to  its  families. 

Without  offering  any  demonstration,  at  present,  upon  this  matter,  we  simply 
state  it  as  our  opinion,  that,  though  the  whole  business  of  the  world  were  in  the 
hands  of  men  thoroughly  Christianised,  and  who,  rating  wealth  according  to  its 
real  dimensions  on  the  high  scale  of  eternity,  were  chastened  out  of  all  their 
idolatrous  regards  to  it — yet  would  trade,  in  these  circumstances,  be  carried  to  the 
extreme  limit  of  its  being  really  productive  or  desirable.  An  affection  for  riches, 
beyond  what  Christianity  prescribes,  is  not  essential  to  any  extension  of  com- 
merce that  is  at  all  valuable  or  legitimate ;  and  in  opposition  to  the  maxim,  that 
the  spirit  of  enterprise  is  the  soul  of  commercial  prosperity,  do  we  hold,  that  it 
is  the  excess  of  this  spirit  beyond  the  moderation  of  the  New  Testament,  which, 
pressing  on  the  natural  boundaries  of  trade,  is  sure,  at  length,  to  visit  every 
country  where  it  operates,  with  the  recoil  of  all  those  calamities,  which  in  the 
shape  of  beggared  capitalists,  and  unemployed  operatives,  and  dreary  intervals 
of  bankruptcy  and  alarm,  are  observed  to  follow  a  season  of  overdone  speculation 


DISCOURSE  I. 


On  the  mercantile  Virtues  which  may  exist  without  the  Influence  of  Christianity. 

'  Final!}',  brethren,  whatsoever  things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honest,  whatsoever  things  are  just, 
whatsoever  things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report ;  if  there 
be  any  virtue,  if  there  be  any  praise,  think  on  these  things." — Philippians  iv.  8. 


Tn  E  Apostle,  in  these  verses,  makes  use  of 
certain  terms,  without  ever  once  proposing 
to  advance  any  definition  of  their  meaning. 
lie  presumes  on  a  common  understanding 
of  this,  between  himself  and  the  people 
whom  he  is  addressing.  He  presumes  that 
they  know  what  is  signified  by  Truth,  and 
Justice,  and  Loveliness,  and  the  other  mo- 
ral qualities  which  are  included  in  the  enu- 
meration of  our  text  They,  in  fact,  had 
words  to  express  them,  for  many  ages  an- 
tecedent to  the  coming  of  Christianity  into 
the  world.  Now,  the  very  existence  of  the 
words  proves,  that,  before  the  gospel  was 
taught,  the  realities  which  they  express 
must  have  existed  also.  These  good  and 
respectable  attributes  of  character  must 
have  been  occasionally  exemplified  by 
men,  prior  to  the  religion  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament. The  virtuous  and  the  praisewor- 
thy must,  ere  the  commencement  of  the  new 
dispensation,  have  been  met  with  in  society 
— for  the  Apostle  does  not  take  them  up  in 
this  passage,  as  if  they  were  unknown  and 
ini  eard  of  novelties — but  such  objects  of 
gen  nil  recognition,  as  could  be  under- 
stood on  the  bare  mention  of  them,  with- 
out warning  and  without  explanation. 

But  more  than  this.  These  virtues  must 
not  only  have  been  exemplified  by  men, 
previous  to  the  entrance  of  the  gospel 
amongst  them — seeing  that  the  terms,  ex- 
fthe  virtues,  were  perfectly  un- 
derstood—bu1  men  must  have  known  how 
to  love  and  to  admire  them.  How  is  it  that 
we  apply  the  epithet  lovely  to  any  moral 
qualification,  but  only  in  as  far  as  that 
qualification  does  in  fac!  draw  towards  it  a 
lentoflove?  How  is  it  that  another 
qualification  is  said  to  be  of  good  report, 
but  in  as  far  as  it  has  received  from  men 
an  applauding  or  an  honourable  testimony? 
The  Apostle  does  not  bid  his  readers  have 
respect  to  such  things  as  are  lovely,  and 
then,  for  the  purpose  of  saving  them  from 
error,  enumerate  what  the  things  are  which 
he  conceives  to  possess  this  qualification. 
He  commits  the  matter,  with  perfect  con- 
fidence, to  their  own  sense  and  their  own 
apprehension.  He  bids  them  bear  a  re- 
spect to  whatsoever  things  are  lovely — 
nor  does  he  seem  at  all  suspicious  that,  by 
so  doing,  he  leaves  them  in  any  darkness 
or  unci  rtainty  about  the  precise  import  of 
tlie  advice  which  he  is  delivering.  He 
therefore   recognizes  the  competency   of 


men  to  estimate  the  lovely  and  the  honour- 
able of  character.  He  appeals  to  a  tribunal 
in  their  own  breasts,  and  evidently  sup- 
poses, that,  antecedently  to  the  light  of  the 
Christian  revelation,  there  lay  scattered 
among  the  species  certain  principles  of  feel- 
ing and  of  action,  hi  virtue  of  which,  they 
both  occasionally  exhibited  what  was  just 
and  true,  and  of  good  report,  and  also 
could  render  to  such  an  exhibition,  the  ho- 
mage of  their  regard  and  of  their  reverence. 
At  present  we  shall  postpone  the  direct  en- 
forcement of  these  virtues  upon  the  ob- 
servation of  Christians,  and  shall  confine 
our  thoughts  of  them  to  the  object  of  esti- 
mating their  precise  importance  and  cha- 
racter, when  they  are  realised  by  those  who 
are  not  Christians. 

While  we  assert  with  zeal  every  doctrine 
of  Christianity,  let  us  not  forget  that  there 
is  a  zeal  without  discrimination  ;  and  that, 
to  bring  such  a  spirit  to  the  defe  nee  of  our 
faith,  or  of  any  one  of  its  peculiarities,  is 
not  to  vindicate  the  cause,  but  to  discredit 
it.  Now,  there  is  a  way  of  maintaining  the 
utter  depravity  of  our  nature,  and  of  doing 
it  in  such  a  style  of  sweeping  and  of  ve- 
hement asseveration,  as  to  render  it  not 
merely  obnoxious  to  the  taste,  but  obnoxious 
to  the  understanding.  On  this  subject  there 
is  often  a  roundness  and  a  temerity  of  an- 
nouncement, which  any  intelligent  man, 
looking  at  the  phenomena  of  human  cha- 
racter with  his  own  eyes,  cannot  go  along 
with;  and  thus  it  is,  that  there  are  injudi 
cious  defenders  of  orthodoxy,  who  have 
mustered  against  it  not  merely  a  positive 
dislike,  but  a  positive  strength  of  observa- 
tion and  argument.  Let  the  nature  of  man 
be  a  ruin,  as  it  certainly  is,  it  is  obvious  to 
the  most  common  discernment,  that  it  does 
not  offer  one  unvaried  and  unalleviated 
mass  of  deformity.  There  are  certain 
phases,  and  certain  exhibitions  of  this  na- 
ture, which  are  more  lovely  than  others — 
certain  traits  of  character,  not  due  to  the 
operation  of  Christianity  at  all.  and  yet 
calling  forth  our  admiration  and  our  ten- 
derness— certain  varieties  of  moral  com- 
plexion, far  more  fair  and  more  engaging 
than  certain  other  varieties ;  and  to  prove 
that  the  gospel  may  have  had  no  share  in 
the  formation  of  them,  they  in  fact  stood 
out  to  the  notice  and  respect  of  the  world 
before  the  gospel  was  ever  heard  of.  The 
classic  page  of  antiquity  sparkles  with  re 


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[disc. 


peated  exemplifications  of  what  is  bright 
and  beautiful  in  the  character  of  man  ;  nor 
do  all  its  descriptions  of  external  nature 
waken  up"  such  an  enthusiasm  of  pleasure, 
as  when  it  bears  testimony  to  some  grace- 
ful or  elevated  doing  out  of  the  history  of 
the  species.  And  whether  it  be  the  kindli- 
ness of  maternal  affection,  or  the  unwearied- 
ness  of  filial  piety,  or  the  constancy  of  tried 
and  unalterable  friendship,  or  the  earnest- 
ness of  devoted  patriotism,  or  the  rigour  of 
unbending  fidelity,  or  any  other  of  the  re- 
corded virtues  which  shed  a  glory  over  the 
remembrance  of  Greece  and  of  Rome — we 
fully  concede  it  to  the  admiring  scholar, 
that  they  one  and  all  of  them  were  some- 
times exemplified  in  those  days  of  Heathen- 
ism ;  and  that,  out  of  the  materials  of  a  pe- 
riod, crowded  as  it  was  with  moral  abomi- 
nations, there  may  also  be  gathered  things 
which  are  pure,  and  lovely,  and  true,  and 
just,  and  honest,  and  of  good  report. 

What  do  we  mean,  then,  it  may  be  ask- 
ed, by  the  universal  depravity  of  man? 
How  shall  we  reconcile  the  admission  now 
made,  with  the  unqualified  and  authorita- 
tive language  of  the  Bible,  when  it  tells  us 
of  the  totality  and  the  magnitude  of  human 
corruption?  Wherein  lies  that  desperate 
wickedness,  which  is  every  where  ascribed 
to  all  the  men  of  all  the  families  that  be  on 
the  face  of  the  earth  ?  And  how  can  such 
a  tribute  of  acknowledgment  be  awarded 
to  the  sages  and  the  patriots  of  antiquity, 
who  yet,  as  the  partakers  of  our  fallen  na- 
ture, must  be  outcasts  from  the  favour  of 
God,  and  have  the  character  of  evil  stamp- 
ed upon  the  imaginations  of  the  thoughts 
of  their  hearts  continually  ? 

In  reply  to  these  questions,  let  us  speak 
to  your  own  experimental  recollections  on  a 
subject  in  which  you  are  aided,  both  by 
the  consciousness  of  what  passes  within 
you,  and  by  your  observation  of  the  cha- 
racters of  others.  Might  not  a  sense  of 
honour  elevate  that  heart  which  is  totally 
unfurnished  with  a  sense  of  God  ?  Might 
not  an  impulse  of  compassionate  feeling  be 
sent  into  that  bosom  which  is  never  once 
visited  by  a  movement  of  duteous  loyalty 
towards  the  Lawgiver  in  heaven?  Might 
not  occasions  of  intercourse  with  the  be- 
ings around  us,  develope  whatever  there  is 
in  our  nature  of  generosity,  and  friendship, 
and  integrity,  and  patriotism ;  and  yet  the 
unseen  Being,  who  placed  us  in  this  thea- 
tre, be  neither  loved,  nor  obeyed,  nor  listen- 
ed to?  Amid  the  manifold  varieties  of 
human  character,  and  the  number  of  con- 
stitutional principles  which  enter  into  its 
composition,  might  there  not  be  an  indi- 
vidual in  whom  the  constitutional  virtues 
so  blaze  forth  and  have  the  ascendency,  as 
to  give  a  general  effect  of  gracefulness  to 
the  whole  of  this  moral  exhibition ;  and  yet, 
may  not  that  individual  be  as  unmindful  of 


his  God,  as  if  the  principles  of  his  consti- 
tution had  been  mixed  up  in  such  a  differ- 
ent proportion,  as  to  make  him  an  odious 
and   a    revolting   spectacle?     In    a   word, 
might  not  Sensibility  shed  forth  its  tears, 
and  Friendship  perform  its  services,  and 
Liberality  impart  of  its  treasure,  and  Pa- 
triotism earn  the  gratitude  of  its  country, 
and  Honour  maintain  itself  entire  and  un- 
tainted, and  all  the  softenings  of  what  is 
amiable,    and    all   the  glories   of  what   is 
chivalrous   and    manly    gather    into    one 
bright  effulgency  of  moral  accomplishment 
on  the  person  of  him  who  never,  for  a  sin- 
gle day  of  his  life,  subordinates  one  habit, 
or   one  affection,  to  the  will   of   the  Al- 
mighty ;  who  is  just  as  careless  and  as  un- 
concerned about  God.  as  if  the  native  ten- 
dencies of  his  constitution  had  compounded 
him  into  a  monster  of  deformity ;  and  who 
just  as  effectually  realizes  this  attribute  of 
rebellion  against  his  Maker,  as  the    most 
loathsome    and   profligate  of  the  species, 
that  he  walks  in  the  counsel  of  his  own 
heart,  and  after  the  sight  of  his  own  eyes? 
The  same  constitutional  variety  may  be 
seen  on  the  lower  fields  of  creation.     You 
there  witness  the  gentleness  of  one  animal, 
the  affectionate  fidelity  of  another,  the  cruel 
and  ui. relenting  ferocity  of  a  third  ;  and 
you  n<  ver  question  the  propriety  of  the 
language,  when  some  of  these  instinctive 
tendencies   are    better   reported    of   than 
others ;  or  when  it  is  said  of  the  former  of 
them,  that  they  are  the  more  fine,  and  amia- 
ble, and  endearing.     But  it  does  not  once 
occur  to  you,  that,  even  in  the  very  best  of 
these  exhibitions,  there  is  any  sense  of  God, 
or  that  the  great  master-principle  of  his  au- 
thority is  at  all  concerned  in  it.     Transfer 
this  contemplation  back  again  to  our  spe- 
cies ;  and  under  the  same  complexional  dif- 
ference of  the  more  and  the  less  lovely,  or 
the  more  and  the  less  hateful,  you  will  per- 
ceive the  same  utter  insensibility  to   the 
consideration  of  a  God,  or  the  same  utter 
inefficiency  on  the  part  of  his  law  to  sub- 
due human  habits  and  human  inclinations. 
It  is  true,  that  there  is  one  distinction  be- 
tween the  two  cases ;  but  it  all  goes  to  ag- 
gravate the  guilt  and  the  ingratitude  of 
man.     He  has  an  understanding  which  the 
inferior  animals  have  not — and  yet,  with 
this  understanding,  does  he  refuse  practi- 
cally to  acknowledge  God.     lie  has  a  con- 
science,  which   they  have   not — and  yet, 
though  it  whisper  in  the  ear  of  his  inner 
man  the  claims  of  an  unseen  legislator, 
does  lie  lull  away  his  time  in  the  slumbers 
of  indifference,  and  live  without  him  in  the 
world. 

Or  go  to  the  people  of  another  planet, 
over  whom  the  hold  of  allegiance  to  their 
maker  is  unbroken — in  whose  hearts  the 
Supreme  sits  enthroned,  and  throughout 
the  whole  of  whose  history  there  runs  the 


I.J 


ON  THE  MERCANTILE  VIRTUES  WITHOUT  CHRISTIANITY 


121 


perpetual  and  the  unfailing  habit  of  subor- 
dination to  his  law.  It  is  conceivable,  that 
with  them  too,  there  may  be  varieties  of 
temper  and  of  natural  inclination,  and  yet 
all  of  them  be  under  the  effective  control 
of  one  great  and  imperious  principle ;  that 
in  subjection  to  the  will  of  God,  every  kind 
and  every  honourable  disposition  is  che- 
■  I  to  the  uttermost ;  and  that  in  sub- 
n  to  the  same  will,  every  tendency  to 
anger,  and  malignity,  and  revenge,  is  re- 
la1  thefirsl  moment  of  its  threatened 
operation  ;  and  that  in  this  way,  there  will 
fostering  of  a  constant  encourage- 
ment given  to  the  one  set  of  instincts,  and 
struggling  of  a  constant  opposition 
ma  le  against  the  other.  Now,  only  con- 
ceive this  great  bond  of  allegiance  to  be 
dissolved;  the  mighty  and  subordinating 
principle,  which  wont  to  wield  an  ascend- 
over  every  movement  and  every  af- 
fection, to  be  loosened  and  done  away  ;  and 
then  would  this  loyal,  obedient  world,  be- 
come what  ours  is,  independent  of  Chris- 
tianity. Every  constitutional  desire  would 
run  out,  in  the  unchecked  spontaneity  of 
its  own  movements.  The  law  of  heaven 
would  furnish  no  counteraction  to  the  im- 
pulses and  tendencies  of  nature.  And  tell 
us,  in  these  circumstances,  when  the  re- 
straint of  religion  was  thus  lifted  off,  and  all 
the  passions  let  out  to  take  their  own  tu- 
multuous and  independent  career — tell  us, 
if,  though  amid  the  uproar  of  the  licentious 
and  vindictive  propensities,  there  did  gleam 
forth  at  times  some  of  the  finer  and  the 
lovelier  sympathies  of  nature — tell  us,  if 
this  would  at  all  affect  the  state  of  that 
world  as  a  state  of  enmity  against  God ; 
when;  his  will  was  reduced  to  an  element 
of  utter  insignificancy  ;  where  the  voice  of 
their  rightful  master  fell  powerless  on  the 
consciences  of  a  listless  and  alienated  fa- 
mily; where  humour,  and  interest,  and 
propensity — at  one  time  selfish,  and  at  an- 
other social — took  their  alternate  sway  over 
those  he  irts  from  which  there  was  excluded 
alleff  ctu  1 1  sense  of  an  overruling  God.  If  he 
be  unhe  led  and  disowned  by  the  creatures 
whom  he  has  formed,  can  it  be  said  to  alle- 
viate the  d  Tormiiv  of  their  rebellion,  that 
they,  at  times,  experience  the  impulse  of 
some  amiable  feeling  which  he  hath  im- 
planted, or  at  times  hold  out  some  beau- 
teousness  of  aspect  which  he  hath  shed  over 
them!1  Shall  the  value  of  the  multitude  of 
the  gifts  release  them  from  their  loyalty  to 
the  giver ;  and  when  nature  puts  herself 
into  the  attitude  of  indifference  or  hostility 
against  him,  now  is  it  that  the  graces  and 
the  accomplishments  of  nature  can  be  plead 
in  mitigation  of  her  antipathy  to  him,  who 
invested  nature  with  all  her  graces,  and  up- 
holds her  in  the  display  of  all  her  accom- 
plishments? 
The  way,  then,  to  assert  the  depravity  of 
16 


man,  is  to  fasten  on  the  radical  element  of 
depravity,  and  to  show  how  deeply  A  lies 
incorporated  with  his  moral  constitution. 
It  is  not  by  an  utterance  of  rash  and  sweep- 
ing totality  to  refuse  him  the  possession  of 
what  is  kind  in  sympathy,  or  of  what  is 
dignified  in  principle — for  this  were  in  the 
face  of  all  observation.  It  is  to  charge  him 
direct  with  his  utter  disloyalty  to  God.  It 
is  to  convict  him  of  treason  against  the  ma- 
jesty of  heaven.  It  is  to  press  home  upon 
him  the  impiety  of  not  caring  about  God. 
It  is  to  tell  him,  that  the  hourly  and  habit- 
ual language  of  his  heart  is.  I  will  not  have 
the  Being  who  made  me  ro  ride  over  me. 
It  is  to  go  to  the  man  of  honour,  and,  while 
we  frankly  award  it  to  him  that  his  pulse 
beats  high  in  the  pride  of  integrity — it  is  to 
tell  him,  that  he  who  keeps  it  in  living  play, 
and  who  sustains  the  loftiness  of  its  move- 
ments, and  who,  in  one  moment  of  time, 
could  arrest  it  for  ever,  is  not  in  all  his 
thoughts.  It  is  to  go  to  the  man  of  soft  and 
gentle  emotions,  and  while  we  gaze  in  ten- 
derness upon  him — it  is  to  read  to  him,  out 
of  his  own  character,  how  the  exquisite 
mechanism  of  feeling  may  be  in  full  ope- 
ration, while  he  who  framed  it  is  forgotten ; 
while  he  who  poured  into  his  constitution  the 
milk  of  human  kindness,  may  never  be  ad- 
verted to  with  one  single  sentiment  of  vene- 
ration, or  on  one  single  purpose  of  obe- 
dience ;  while  he  who  gave  him  his  gentler 
nature,  who  clothed  him  in  all  its  adorn- 
ments, and  in  virtue  of  whose  appointment 
it  is,  that,  instead  of  an  odious  and  a  revolt- 
ing monster,  he  is  the  much  loved  child  of 
sensibility,  may  be  utterly  disowned  by 
him.  In  a  word,  it  is  to  go  around  among 
all  that  Humanity  has  to  offer  in  the  shape 
of  fair  and  amiable,  and  engaging,  and  to 
prove  how  deeply  Humanity  has  revolted 
against  that  Being  who  has  done  so  much 
to  beautify  and  to  exalt  her.  It  is  to  prove 
that  the  carnal  mind,  under  all  its  varied 
complexions  of  harshness,  or  of  delicacy,  is 
enmity  against  God.  It  is  to  prove  that 
let  nature  be  as  rich  as  she  may  in  moral 
accomplishments,  and  let  the  most  favoured 
of  her  sons  realize  upon  his  own  person  the 
finest  and  the  fullest  assemblage  of  them — 
should  he,  at  the  moment  of  leaving  this 
theatre  of  display,  and  bursting  loose  from 
the  framework  of  mortality,  stand  in  the 
presence  of  his  judge,  and  have  the  ques- 
tion put  to  him,  What  hast  thou  done  unto 
me?  This  man  of  constitutional  virtue,  with 
all  the  salutations  he  got  upon  earth,  and  all 
the  reverence  that  he  has  left  behind  him, 
may,  naked  and  defenceless,  before  him 
who  sitteth  on  the  throne,  be  left  without  a 
plea  and  without  an  argument. 

God's  controversy  with  our  species,  is 
not,  that  the  glow  of  honour  or  of  human- 
ity is  never  felt  among  them.  It  is,  that 
none  of  them  understandcth,  and  none  of 


122 


ON  THE  MERCANTILE  VIRTUES  WITHOUT  CHRISTIANITY. 


[disc. 


them  seeketh  after  God.  It  is,  that  he  is 
deposed  from  his  rightful  ascendency.  It 
is  that  he,  who  in  fact  inserted  in  the  hu- 
man bosom  every  one  principle  that  can 
embellish  the  individual  possessor,  or  main- 
tain the  order  of  society,  is  banished  alto- 
gether from  the  circle  of  his  habitual  con- 
templations. It  is,  that  man  taketh  his  way 
in  life  as  much  at  random,  as  if  there  was 
no  presiding  Divinity  at  all;  and  that, 
whether  he  at  one  time  grovel  in  the  depths 
of  sensuality,  or  at  another  kindle  with 
some  generous  movement  of  sympathy  or 
of  patriotism,  he  is  at  both  times  alike  un- 
mindful of  him  fo  whom  he  owes  his  con- 
tinuance and  his  birth.  It  is,  that  he  moves 
his  every  footstep  at  his  own  will ;  and  has 
utterly  discarded,  from  its  supremacy  over 
him,  the  will  of  that  invisible  Master  who 
compasses  all  his  goings,  and  never  ceases 
to  pursue  him  by  the  claims  of  a  resistless 
and  legitimate  authority.  It  is  this  which 
is  the  essential  or  the  constituting  principle 
of  rebellion  against  God.  This  it  is  which 
has  exiled  the  planet  we  live  in  beyond  the 
limits  of  his  favoured  creation — and  whether 
it  be  shrouded  in  the  turpitude  of  licentious- 
ness or  cruelty,  or  occasionally  brightened 
with  the  gleam  of  the  kindly  and  the  honour- 
able virtues,  it  is  thus  that  it  is  seen  as  afar 
off,  by  Him  who  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and 
looketh  on  our  strayed  world,  as  athwart  a 
wide  and  dreary  gulf  of  separation. 

And  when,  prompted  by  love  towards  his 
alienated  children,  he  devised  a  way  of  re- 
calling them — when,  willing  to  pass  over 
all  the  ingratitude  he  had  gotten  from  their 
hands,  he  reared  a  pathway  of  return,  and 
proclaimed  a  pardon  and  a  welcome  to  all 
who  should  walk  upon  it — when  through 
the  offered  Mediator,  who  magnified  his 
broken  law,  and  upheld,  by  his  mysterious 
sacrifice,  the  dignity  of  that  government, 
which  the  children  of  Adam  had  disowned, 
he  invited  all  to  come  and  be  saved — 
should  this  message  be  brought  to  the  door 
of  the  most  honourable  man  upon  earth, 
and  he  turn  in  contempt  and  hostility  away 
from  it,  has  not  that  man  posted  himself 
more  firmly  than  ever  on  the  ground  of  re- 
bellion ?  Though  an  unsullied  integrity 
should  rest  upon  all  his  transactions,  and 
the  homage  of  confidence  and  respect  be 
awarded  to  him  from  every  quarter  of  so- 
ciety, has  not  this  man,  by  slighting  the 
overtures  of  reconciliation,  just  plunged 
himself  the  deeper  in  the  guilt  of  a  wilful 
and  determined  ungodliness  ?  Has  not  the 
creature  exalted  itself  above  the  Creator ; 
and  in  the  pride  of  those  accomplishments, 
which  never  would  have  invested  his  per- 
son had  not  they  come  to  him  from  above, 
has  he  not,  in  the  act  of  resisting  the  gospel, 
aggravated  the  provocation  of  his  whole 
previous  defiance  to  the  author  of  it  ? 

Thus  much  for  all  that  is  amiable,  and 


for  all  that  is  manly  in  the  accomplish- 
ments of  nature,  disjoined  from  the  faith  ol 
Christianity.  They  take  up  a  separate 
residence  in  the  human  character  from  the 
principle  of  godliness.  Anterior  to  this  re- 
ligion, they  go  not  to  alleviate  the  guilt  of 
our  departure  from  the  living  God ;  and 
subsequently  to  this  religion,  they  may 
blazon  the  character  of  him  who  stands  out 
against  it ;  but  on  the  principles  of  a  most 
clear  and  intelligent  equity,  they  never  can 
shield  him  from  the  condemnation  and  the 
curse  of  those  who  have  neglected  the  great 
salvation. 

The  doctrine  of  the  New  Testament  will 
bear  to  be  confronted  with  all  that  can  be 
met  or  noticed  on  the  face  of  human  society. 
•And  we  speak  most  confidently  to  the  ex- 
perience of  many  who  now  hear  us,  when 
jjwe  say,  that  often,  in  the  course  of  their 
knanifold  transactions,  have  they  met  the 
knan,  whom  the  bribery  of  no  advantage 
whatever  could  seduce  into  the  slightest 
^deviation  from  the  path  of  integrity — the 
(man,  who  felt  his  nature  within  him  put 
'into  a  state  of  the  most  painful  indignancy, 
at  every  thing  that  bore  upon  it  the  charac- 
ter of  a  sneaking  or  dishonourable  artifice — 
the  man,  who  positively  could  not  be  at 
rest  under  the  consciousness  that  he  had 
ever  betrayed,  even  to  his  own  heart,  the 
remotest  symptom  of  such  an  inclination— 
and  whom,  therefore,  the  unaided  law  of 
justice  and  of  truth  has  placed  on  a  high 
and  deserved  eminence  in  the  walks  of 
honourable  merchandize. 

Let  us  not  withhold  from  this  charactei 
the  tribute  of  its  most  rightful  admiration  - 
but  let  us  further  ask,  if,  with  all  that  he 
thus  possessed  of  native  feeling  and  consti- 
tutional integrity,  you  have  never  observed 
in  any  such  individual  an  utter  emptiness 
of  religion ;  and  that  God  is  not  in  all  his 
thoughts;  and    that,  when   he  does  what 
happens  to  be  at  one  with  the  will  of  the 
Lawgiver,  it  is  not  because  he  is  impelled 
to  it  by  a  sense  of  its  being  the  will  of  the 
Lawgiver,  but  because  he  is  impelled  to  it 
by  the  working  of  his  own  instinctive  sen- 
sibilities ;  and  that,  however  fortunate,  or 
however  estimable  these  sensibilities  are. 
they  still  consist  with  the  habit  of  a  mind 
that  is  in  a  state  of  total  indifference  about 
God  ?    Have  you  never  read  in  3'our  own 
character,  or  observed  in  the  character  of 
others,  that  the  claims  of  the  Divinity  may 
be  entirely  forgotten  by  the  very  man  to 
whom  society  around  him  yield,  and  rightly 
yield,   the   homage  of    an   unsullied    and 
honourable  reputation ;  that  this  man  may 
have  all  his  foundations  in  the  world ;  that 
every  security  on  which  he  rests,  and  every 
enjoyment  upon  which  his  heart  is  set,  lieth 
on  this  side  of  death ;  that  a  sense  of  the 
coming  day  on  which  God  is  to  enter  into 
judgment  with  him,  is  to  every  purpose  of 


ON  THE  MERCANTILE  VIRTUES  WITHOUT  CHRISTIANITY. 


123 


p/i.ctical  ascendency,  as  good  as  expunged 
altogether  from  his  bosom ;  that  he  is  far 
in  desire,  and  far  in  enjoyment,  and  far  in 
habitual  contemplation,  away  from  that 
God  who  is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us ; 
that  his  extending  credit  and  his  brighten- 
ing prosperity,  and  his  magnificent  retreat 
from  business,  with  all  the  splendour  of  its 
accommodations — that  these  are  the  futuri- 
ties at  which  he  terminates ;  and  that  he 
goes  not  in  thought  beyond  them  to  that 
eternity,  which  in  the  flight  of  a  few  little 
years,  will  absorb  all,  and  annihilate  all? 
In  a  word,  have  you  never  observed  the 
man,  who,  with  all  that  was  right  in  mer- 
cantile principle,  and  all  that  was  open  and 
unimpeachable  in  the  habit  of  his  mercan- 
tile transactions,  lived  in  a  state  of  utter 
estrangement  from  the  concerns  of  immor- 
tality? who,  in  reference  to  God,  persisted, 
from  one  year  to  another,  in  the  spirit  of  a 
deep  slumber?  who,  in  reference  to  the 
man  that  tries  to  awaken  him  out  of  his 
lethargy,  recoils,  with  the  most  sensitive 
dislike,  from  the  faithfulness  of  his  minis- 
trations? who,  in  reference  to  the  Book 
which  tells  him  of  his  nakedness  and  his 
guilt,  never  consults  it  with  one  practical 
aim,  and  never  tries  to  penetrate  beyond 
that  aspect  of  mysteriousness  which  it  holds 
out  to  an  undiscerning  world  ?  who  attends 
not  church,  or  attends  it  with  all  the  life- 
lessness  of  a  form  ?  who  reads  not  his  Bible, 
or  reads  it  in  the  discharge  of  a  self-pre- 
scribed  and  unfruitful  task?  who  prays  not, 
or  prays  with  the  mockery  of  an  unmean- 
ing observation?  and,  in  one  word,  who 
while  surrounded  by  all  those  testimonies 
which  give  to  man  a  place  of  moral  dis- 
tinction among  his  fellows,  is  living  in  utter 
carelessness  about  God,  and  about  all  the 
avenues  which  lead  to  him  ? 

Now,  attend  for  a  moment  to  what  that 
is  which  the  man  has,  and  to  what  that  is 
which  he  lias  not.  He  has  an  attribute  of 
character  which  is  in  itself  pure,  and  lovely, 
and  honourable,  and  of  good  report.  He 
has  a  natural  principle  of  integrity;  and 
under  its  impulse  he  may  be  carried  for- 
ward to  such  fine  exhibitions  of  himself,  as 
are  worthy  of  all  admiration.  It  is  very 
noble,  when  the  simple  utterance  of  his 
word  carries  as  much  security  along  with 
it  as  if  he  had  accompanied  that  utterance 
by  the  signatures,  and  the  securities,  and 
the  legal  obligations  which  are  required  of 
other  men.  It  might  tempt  one  to  be  proud 
of  his  species  when  he  looks  at  the  faith 
that  is  put  in  him  by  a  distant  correspon- 
dent, who,  without  one  other  hold  of  him 
than  his  honour,  consigns  to  him  the  wealth 
of  a  whole  flotilla,  and  sleeps  in  the  confi- 
dence that  it  is  safe.  It  is  indeed  an  animat- 
ing thought,  amid  the  gloom  of  this  world's 
depravity,  when  we  behold  the  credit  which 
one  man  puts  in  another,  though  separated 


by  oceans  and  by  continents ;  when  he  fixes 
the  anchor  of  a  sure  and  steady  dependence 
on  the  reported  honesty  of  one  whom  he 
never  saw  ;  when,  with  all  his  fears  for  the 
treachery  of  the  varied  elements,  through 
which  his  property  has  to  pass,  he  knows, 
that  should  it  only  arrive  at  the  door  of  its 
destined  agent,  all  his  fears  and  all  his  sus- 
picions may  be  at  an  end.  We  know  nothing 
finer  than  such  an  act  of  homage  from  one 
human  being  to  another,  when  perhaps  the 
diameter  of  the  globe  is  between  them;  nor 
do  we  think  that  either  the  renown  of  her 
victories,  or  the  wisdom  of  her  councils,  so 
signalizes  the  country  in  which  we  live,  as 
does  the  honourable  dealing  of  her  mer- 
chants ;  that  all  the  glories  of  British  policy, 
and  Biitish  valour,  are  far  eclipsed  by  the 
moral  splendour  which  British  faith  has 
thrown  over  the  name  and  the  character  of 
our  nation ;  nor  has  she  gathered  so  proud 
a  distinction  from  all  the  tributaries  of  her 
power,  as  she  has  done  from  the  awarded 
confidence  of  those  men  of  all  tribes,  and 
colours,  and  languages,  who  look  to  our 
agency  for  the  most  faithful  of  all  manage- 
ment, and  to  our  keeping  for  the  most  un- 
violable  of  all  custody. 

There  is  no  denying,  then,  the  very  ex- 
tended prevalence  of  a  principle  of  integrity 
in  the  commercial  world ;  and  he  who  has 
such  a  principle  within  him,  has  that  to 
which  all  the  epithets  of  our  text  may 
rightly  be  appropriated.  But  it  is  just  as 
impossible  to  deny,  that,  with  this  thing 
which  he  has,  there  may  be  another  thing 
which  he  has  not.  He  may  not  have  one 
duteous  feeling  of  reverence  which  points 
upward  to  God.  He  may  not  have  one 
wish,  or  one  anticipation,  which  points  for- 
ward to  eternity.  He  may  not  have  any 
sense  of  dependence  on  the  Being  who  sus- 
tains him ;  and  who  gave  him  his  very 
principle  of  honour,  as  part  of  that  interior 
furniture  which  he  has  put  into  his  bosom  ; 
and  who  surrounded  him  with  the  theatre 
on  which  he  has  come  forward  with  the 
finest  and  most  illustrious  displays  of  it; 
and  who  set  the  whole  machinery  of  his 
sentiment  and  action  agoing ;  and  can.  by 
a  single  word  of  his  power,  hid  it  cease 
from  the  variety,  and  cease  from  the  grace- 
fulness of  its  movements.  In  other  words, 
he  is  a  man  of  integrity,  and  yet  he  is  a 
man  of  ungodliness. 

He  is  a  man  born  for  the  confidence  and 
the  admiration  of  his  fellows,  and  yet  a  man 
whom  his  Maker  can  charge  with  utter  de- 
fection from  all  the  principles  of  a  spiritual 
obedience.  He  is  a  man  whose  virtues  have 
blazoned  his  own  character  in  time,  and 
have  upheld  the  interests  of  society,  and 
yet  a  man  who  has  not,  by  one  movement 
of  principle,  brought  himself  nearer  to  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  than  the  most  profli- 
gate of  the  species.  The  condemnation,  that 


124 


ON    THE    MERCANTILE    VIRTUES    WITHOUT    CHRISTIANITY. 


[disc. 


he  is  an  alien  from  God,  rests  upon  him  in 
All  the  weight  of  its  unmitigated  severity. 
The  threat,  that  they  who  forget  God  shall 
be  turned  into  hell,  will,  on  the  great  day 
of  its  fell  and  sweeping  operation,  involve 
him  among  the  wretched  outcasts  of  eter- 
nity. That  God  from  whom,  while  in  the 
world,  he  withheld  every  due  offering  of 
gratitude,  and  remembrance,  and  universal 
subordination  of  habit  and  of  desire,  will 
show  him  to  his  face,  how,  under  the  delu- 
sive garb  of  such  sympathies  as  drew  upon 
him  the  love  of  his  acquaintances,  and  of 
such  integrities  as  drew  upon  him  their  re- 
spect and  their  confidence,  he  was  in  fact  a 
determined  rebel  against  the  authority  of 
heaven ;  that  not  one  commandment  of  the 
law,  in  the  true  extent  of  its  interpretation, 
was  ever  fulfilled  by  him ;  that  the  pervad- 
ing principle  of  obedience  to  this  law,  which 
is  love  to  God,  never  had  its  ascendency 
over  him  ;  that  the  beseeching  voice  of  the 
Lawgiver,  so  offended  and  so  insulted — but 
who,  nevertheless,  devised  in  love  a  way  of 
reconciliation  for  the  guilty, — never  had  the 
effect  of  recalling  him ;  that,  in  fact,  he 
neither  had  a  wish  for  the  friendship  of 
God,  nor  cherished  the  hope  of  enjoying 
him,  and  that  therefore,  as  he  lived  without 
hope,  so  he  lived  without  God  in  the  world ; 
finding  all  his  desire,  and  all  his  sufficiency, 
to  be  somewhere  else,  than  in  that  favour 
which  is  better  than  life,  and  so,  in  addition 
to  the  curse  of  having  continued  not  in  all 
the  words  of  the  book  of  God's  law  to  do 
them,  entailing  upon  himself  the  mighty 
aggravation  of  having  neglected  all  the  of- 
fers of  his  gospel. 

We  say,  then,  of  this  natural  virtue,  what 
our  Saviour  said  of  the  virtue  of  the  Phari- 
sees, many  of  whom  were  not  extortioners, 
as  other  men — that,  verily,  it  hath  its  re- 
ward. When  disjoined  from  a  sense  of  God. 
it  is  of  no  religious  estimation  whatever; 
nor  will  it  lead  to  any  religious  blessing, 
either  in  time  or  in  eternity.  It  has,  however, 
its  enjoyments  annexed  to  it,  just  as  a  fine 
taste  has  its  enjoyments  annexed  to  it ;  and 
in  these  it  is  abundantly  rewarded.  It  is 
exempted  from  that  painfulness  of  inward 
feeling  which  nature  has  annexed  to  every 
act  of  departure  from  honesty.  It  is  sus- 
tained by  a  conscious  sense  of  rectitude  and 
elevation.  It  is  gratified  by  the  homage  of 
society ;  the  members  of  which  are  ever 
ready  to  award  the  tribute  of  acknowledg- 
ment to  those  virtues  that  support  the  in- 
terests of  society.     And  finally,  it  may  be 


said,  that  prosperity,  with  some  occasional 
variations,  is  the  general  accompaniment  ol 
that  credit,  which  every  man  of  undeviat- 
ing  justice  is  sure  to  draw  around  him.  But 
what  reward  will  you  tell  us  is  due  to  him 
on  the  great  day  of  the  manifestation  of 
God's  righteousness,  when,  in  fact,  he  has 
done  nothing  unto  God  1  What  recompence 
can  be  awarded  to  him  out  of  those  books 
which  are  then  to  be  opened,  and  in  which 
he  stands  recorded  as  a  man  overcharged 
with  the  guilt  of  spiritual  idolatry  ?  How 
shall  God  grant  unto  him  the  reward  of  a 
servant,  when  the  service  of  God  was  not  the 
principle  of  his  doings  in  the  world ;  and 
when  neither  the  justice  he  rendered  to 
others,  nor  the  sensibility  that  he  felt  for 
them,  bore  the  slightest  character  of  an  of- 
fering to  his  Maker? 

But  wherever  the  religious  principle  has 
taken  possession  of  the  mind,  it  animates 
these  virtues  with  a  new  spirit;  and  when 
so  animated,  all  such  things  as  are  pure, 
and  lovely,  and  just,  and  true,  and  honest, 
and  of  good  report,  have  a  religious  import- 
ance and  character  belonging  to  them.  The 
text  forms  part  of  an  epistle  addressed  to 
all  the  saints  in  Christ  Jesus,  which  were 
at  Philippi ;  and  the  lesson  of  the  text  is 
matter  of  direct  and  authoritative  enforce- 
ment on  all  who  are  saints  in  Christ  Jesus 
at  the  present  day.  Christianity,  with  the 
weight  of  its  positive  sanctions  on  the  side 
of  what  is  amiable  and  honourable  in  hu- 
man virtue,  causes  such  an  influence  to  rest 
on  the  character  of  its  genuine  disciples, 
that,  on  the  ground  both  of  inflexible  jus- 
tice and  ever-breathing  charity,  they  are 
ever  sure  to  leave  the  vast  majority  of  the 
world  behind  them.  Simplicity  and  godly 
sincerity  form  essential  ingredients  of  that 
peculiarity  by  which  they  stand  signalized 
in  the  midst  of  an  ungodly  generation.  The 
true  friends  of  the  gospel,  tremblingly  alive 
to  the  honour  of  their  master's  cause,  blush 
for  the  disgrace  that  has  been  brought  on  it 
by  men  who  keep  its  sabbaths,  and  yield  an 
ostentatious  homage  to  its  doctrines  and  its 
sacraments.  They  utterly  disclaim  all  fel- 
lowship with  that  vile  association  of  cant 
and  of  duplicity,  which  has  sometimes  been 
exemplified,  to  the  triumph  of  the  enemies 
of  religion ;  and  they  both  feel  the  solemn 
truth,  and  act  on  the  authority  of  the  say- 
ing, that  neither  thieves,  nor  liars,  nor  ex- 
tortioners, nor  unrighteous  persons,  have 
any  part  in  the  kingdom  of  Christ  and  of 
God. 


II.] 


INFLUENCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY,  &C. 


125 


DISCOURSE  II. 


The  Influence  of  Christianity  in  aiding  and  augmenting  the  mercantile  Virtues. 

'  For  he  that  in  these  things  serveth  Christ  is  acceptable  to  God,  and  approved  of  men." — Ramans  xiv.  18. 


We  have  already  asserted  the  natural  ex- 
istence of  such  principles  in  the  heart  of 
man,  as  lead  him  to  many  graceful  and  to 
many  honourable  exhibitions  of  character. 
We  have  further  asserted,  that  this  formed 
no  deduction  whatever  from  that  article  of 
orthodoxy  which  affirms  the  utter  depravity 
of  our  nature ;  that  the  essence  of  this  de- 
pravity lies  in  man  having  broken  loose 
from  the  authority  of  God,  and  delivered 
himself  wholly  up  to  the  guidance  of  his 
own  inclinations ;  that  though  some  of  these 
inclinations  are  in  themselves  amiable  fea- 
tures of  human  character,  and  point  in  their 
effects  to  what  is  most  useful  to  human 
society,  yet  devoid  as  they  all  are  of  any 
reference  to  the  will  and  to  the  rightful 
sovereignty  of  the  Supreme  Being,  they 
could  not  avert,  or  even  so  much  as  alle- 
viate that  charge  of  ungodliness,  which  may 
be  fully  carried  round  amongst  all  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  the  species ;  that  they  fur- 
nish not  the  materials  of  any  valid  or  satis- 
factory answer  to  the  question,  "  What  hast 
thou  done  unto  God  ?"  and  that  whether 
they  are  the  desires  of  a  native  rectitude,  or 
the  desires  of  an  instinctive  benevolence, 
they  go  not  to  purge  away  the  guilt  of  hav- 
ing no  love,  and  no  care  for  the  Being  who 
formed  and  who  sustains  them. 

But  what  is  more.  If  the  virtues  and  ac- 
complishments of  nature  are  at  all  to  be 
admitted  into  the  controversy  between  God 
and  man,  instead  of  forming  any  abatement 
upon  the  enormity  of  our  guilt,  they  stamp 
upon  it  the  reproach  of  a  still  deeper  and 
more  determined  ingratitude.  Let  us  con- 
ceive it  possible,  for  a  moment,  that  the 
beautiful  personifications  of  scripture  were 
all  realized ;  that  the  trees  of  the  forest  clap- 
ped their  hands  unto  God,  and  that  the  isles 
were  glad  at  his  presence;  that  the  little 
hills  shouted  on  every  side,  and  that  the 
vallies  covered  over  with  corn  sent  forth 
their  notes  of  rejoicing;  that  the  sun  and 
the  moon  praised  him,  and  the  stars  of  light 
joined  in  the  solemn  adoration ;  that  the 
voice  of  glory  to  God  was  heard  from  every 
mountain  and  from  every  water-fall ;  and 
that  all  nature,  animated  throughout  by  the 
consciousness  of  a  pervading  and  presiding 
Deity,  burst  into  one  loud  and  universal 
song  of  gratulation.  Would  not  a  strain  of 
greater  loftiness  be  heard  to  ascend  from 
those  regions  where  the  all-working  God 
had  left  the  traces  of  his  own  immensity, 
than    from    the    tamer   and  the  humbler 


scenery  of  an  ordinary  landscape?  Would 
not  you  look  for  a  gladder  acclamation 
from  the  fertile  field,  than  from  the  arid 
waste,  where  no  character  of  grandeur 
made  up  for  the  barrenness  that  was  around 
you'?  Would  not  the  goodly  tree,  com- 
passed about  with  the  glories  of  its  summer 
foliage,  lift  up  an  anthem  of  louder  grati- 
tude than  the  lowly  shrub  that  grew  be- 
neath it?  Would  not  the  flower,  from 
whose  leaves  every  hue  of  loveliness  was 
reflected,  send  forth  a  sweeter  rapture  than 
the  russet  weed,  which  never  drew  the  eye 
of  any  admiring  passenger?  And  in  a 
word,  wherever  you  saw  the  towering  emi- 
nences of  nature,  or  the  garniture  of  her 
more  rich  and  beauteous  adornments,  would 
it  not  be  there  that  you  looked  for  the  deep- 
est tones  of  devotion,  or  there  for  the  ten- 
derest  and  most  exquisite  of  its  melodies  ? 

There  is  both  the  .sublime  of  character, 
and  the  beauteous  of  character  exemplified 
upon  man.  We  have  the  one  in  that  high 
sense  of  honour  which  no  interest  and  no 
terror  can  seduce  from  any  of  its  obliga- 
tions. We  have  the  other  in  that  kindli- 
ness of  feeling,  which  one  look,  or  one  sigh 
of  imploring  distress  can  touch  into  liveliest 
sympathy.  Only  grant  that  we  have  no- 
thing either  in  the  constitution  of  our  spirits, 
or  in  the  structure  of  our  bodies,  which  we 
did  not  receive ;  and  that  mind,  with  all  its 
varieties,  is  as  much  the  product  of  a  creat- 
ing hand,  as  matter  in  all  its  modifications; 
and  then,  on  the  face  of  human  society,  do  we 
witness  all  the  gradations  of  a  moral  scenery, 
which  may  be  directly  referred  to  the  opera- 
tion of  him  who  worketh  all  in  all.  It  is  our 
belief,  that,  as  to  any  effectual  sense  of  God, 
there  is  as  deep  a  slumber  throughout  the 
whole  of  this  world's  living  and  rational 
generations,  as  there  is  throughout  all  the 
diversities  of  its  mute  and  unconscious  ma- 
terialism; and  that  to  make  our  alienated 
spirits  again  alive  unto  the  Father  of  them, 
calls  for  as  distinct  and  as  miraculous  an 
exertion  of  the  Divinity,  as  would  need  to 
be  put  forth  in  the  act  of  turning  stones  into 
the  children  of  Abraham.  Conceive  this  to 
be  done  then — and  that  a  quickening  and  a 
realizing  sense  of  the  Deity  pervaded  all  the 
men  of  our  species — and  that  each  knew 
how  to  refer  his  own  endowments,  with  an 
adequate  expression  of  gratitude  to  the  un- 
seen author  of  them — from  whom  we  ask  of 
all  these  various  individuals,  would  you  look 
for  the  halleluiahs  of  devoutest  ecstacv  ? 


126 


INFLUENCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY  IN 


[disc. 


Would  it  not  be  from  him  whom  God  had 
arrayed  in  the  splendour  of  nature's  bright- 
est accomplishments  1  Would  it  not  be  from 
him,  with  whose  constitutional  feelings  the 
movements  of  honour  and  benevolence  were 
in  fullest  harmony  ?  Would  it  not  be  from 
him  whom  his  Maker  had  cast  into  the  hap- 
piest mould,  and  attempered  into  sweetest 
unison  with  all  that  was  kind,  and  generous, 
and  lovely,  and  ennobled  by  the  loftiest  emo- 
tions, and  raised  above  his  fellows  into  the 
finest  spectacle  of  all  that  was  graceful  and 
all  that  was  manly  ?  Surely,  if  the  posses- 
sion of  these  moralities  be  just  another 
theme  of  acknowledgment  to  the  Lord  of 
the  spirits  of  all  flesh,  then,  if  the  acknow- 
ledgment be  withheld,  and  these  moralities 
have  taken  up  their  residence  in  the  bosom 
of  him  who  is  utterly  devoid  of  piety,  they 
go  to  aggravate  the  reproach  of  his  ingrati- 
tude ;  and  to  prove,  that  of  all  the  men  upon 
earth  who  are  far  from  God,  he  stands  at 
the  widest  distance,  he  remains  proof  against 
the  weightiest  claims,  and  he,  of  the  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins,  is  the  most  profoundly 
asleep  to  the  call  of  religion,  and  to  the  su- 
premacy of  its  righteous  obligations. 

It  is  by  argument  such  as  this,  that  we 
would  attempt  to  convince  of  sin,  those 
who  have  a  righteousness  that  is  without 
godliness  ;  and  to  prove,  that,  with  the  pos- 
session of  such  things  as  are  pure,  and 
lovely,  and  honest,  and  of  good  report,  they 
in  fact  can  only  be  admitted  to  reconcilia- 
tion with  God,  on  the  same  footing  with 
the  most  worthless  and  profligate  of  the 
species  ;  and  to  demonstrate,  that  they  are 
in  the  very  same  state  of  need  and  of  naked- 
ness, and  are  therefore  children  of  wrath, 
even  as  others ;  that  it  is  only  through  faith 
in  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  that  they  can  be  saved  ;  and 
that  unless  brought  down  from  the  delusive 
eminency  of  their  own  conscious  attain- 
ments, they  take  their  forgiveness  through 
the  blood  of  the  Redeemer,  and  their  sanc- 
tification  through  the  spirit  which  is  at  his 
giving,  they  shall  obtain  no  part  in  that  in- 
heritance which  is  incorruptible  and  unde- 
nted, and  which  fadeth  not  away. 

But  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  does  some- 
thing more  than  hold  out  a  refuge  to  the 
guilty.  It  takes  all  those  who  accept  of  its 
overtures  under  its  supreme  and  exclusive 
direction.  It  keeps  by  them  in  the  way  of 
counsel  and  exhortation,  and  constant  su- 
perintendence. The  grace  which  it  reveals, 
is  a  grace  which  not  merely  saves  all  men, 
but  which  teaches  all  men.  He  who  is  the 
proposed  Saviour,  also  claims  to  be  the 
alone  master  of  those  who  put  their  trust 
in  him.  His  cognizance  extends  itself  over 
the  whole  line  of  their  history ;  and  there  is 
not  an  affection  of  their  heart,  or  a  deed 
of  their  visible  conduct,  over  which  he  does 
not  assert  the  right  of  an  authority  that  is 


above  all  control,  and  that  refuses  all  rival 
ship. 

Now,  we  want  to  point  your  attention  to 
a  distinction  which  obtains  between  one  set 
and  another  set  of  his  requirements.  By 
the  former,  we  are  enjoined  to  practise  cer- 
tain virtues,  which  separately  from  his  in- 
junction altogether,  are  in  great  demand,  and 
in  great  reverence,  amongst  the  members  of 
society-such  as  compassion,  and  generosity, 
and  justice,  and  truth;  which,  independently 
of  the  religious  sanction  they  obtain  from 
the  law  of  the  Saviour,  are  in  themselves  so 
lovely,  and  so  honourable,  and  of  such  good 
report,  that  they  are  ever  sure  to  carry 
general  applause  along  with  them,  and  thus 
to  combine  both  the  characteristics  of  our 
text — that  he  who  in  these  things  serveth 
Christ,  is  both  acceptable  to  God,  and  ap- 
proved of  men. 

But  there  is  another  set  of  requirements, 
where  the  will  of  God,  instead  of  being 
seconded  by  the  applause  of  men,  is  utterly 
at  variance  with  it.  There  are  some  who 
can  admire  the  generous  sacrifices  that  are 
made  to  truth  or  to  friendship,  but  who, 
without  one  opposing  scruple,  abandon 
themselves  to  all  the  excesses  of  riot  and 
festivity,  and  are  therefore  the  last  to  admire 
the  puritanic  sobriety  of  him  whom  they 
cannot  tempt  to  put  his  chastity  or  his  tem- 
perance away  from  him ;  though  the  same 
God,  who  bids  us  lie  not  one  to  another, 
also  bids  us  keep  the  body  under  subjec- 
tion, and  to  abstain  from  fleshly  lusts  which 
war  against  the  soul.  Again,  there  are 
some  in  whose  eye  an  unvitiated  delicacy 
looks  a  beautiful  and  an  interesting  specta- 
cle, and  an  undeviating  self-control  looks  a 
manly  and  respectable  accomplishment ; 
but  who  have  no  taste  in  themselves,  and 
no  admiration  in  others,  for  the  more  direct 
exercises  of  religion;  and  who  positively 
hate  the  strict  and  unbending  preciseness 
of  those  who  join  in  every  ordinance,  and 
on  every  returning  night  celebrate  the 
praises  of  God  in  their  family ;  and  that, 
though  the  heavenly  Lawgiver,  who  tells 
us  to  live  righteously  and  soberly,  tells  us 
also  to  live  godly  in  the  present  evil  world. 
And  lastly,  there  are  some  who  have  not 
merely  a  toleration,  but  a  liking  for  all  the 
decencies  of  an  established  observation ; 
but  who,  with  the  homage  they  pay  to 
sabbaths  and  to  sacraments,  nauseate  the 
Christian  principle  in  the  supreme  and  re- 
generating vitality  of  its  influences;  who, 
under  a  general  religiousness  of  aspect,  are 
still  in  fact  the  children  of  the  world — and 
therefore  hate  the  children  of  light  in  all 
that  is  peculiar  and  essentially  characteris- 
tic of  that  high  designation ;  who  under- 
stand not  what  is  meant  by  having  our  con- 
versation in  heaven ;  and  utter  strangers  to 
the  separated  walk,  and  the  spiritual  exer- 
cises, and  the  humble  devotedness,  and  the 


n.J 


AUGMENTING  THE  MARCANTILE  VIRTUES. 


127 


consecrated  affections,  of  the  new  creature 
in  Jesus  Christ,  shrink  from  them  alto- 
gether as  from  the  extravagancies  of  a  fa- 
naticism in  which  they  have  no  share,  and 
with  which  they  can  have  no  sympathy — 
.md  all  this,  though  the  same  scripture 
which  prescribes  the  exercises  of  household 
und  of  public  religion,  lays  claim  to  an 
undivided  authority  over  all  the  desires  and 
affections  of  the  soul;  and  will  admit  of  no 
compromise  between  God  and  the  world  ; 
and  insist  upon  an  utter  deadness  to  the 
one,  and  a  most  vehement  sensibility  to  the 
other ;  and  elevates  the  standard  of  loyalty 
to  the  Father  of  our  Spirits,  to  the  lofty 
pitch  of  loving  him  with  all  our  strength, 
and  of  doing  all  things  to  his  glory. 

Let  these  examples  serve  to  impress  a 
real  and  experimental  distinction  which 
obtains  between  two  sets  of  virtues ;  be- 
tween those  which  possess  the  single  ingre- 
dient of  being  approved  by  God,  while  they 
want  the  ingredient  of  being  also  accepta- 
ble unto  men — and  those  which  possess 
both  these  ingredients,  and  to  the  observ- 
ance of  which,  therefore,  we  may  be  carried 
by  a  regard  to  the  will  of  God,  without  any 
reference  to  the  opinion  of  men — or  by  a 
regard  to  the  opinion  of  men,  without  any 
reference  to  the  will  of  God.  Among  the 
first  class  of  virtues  we  would  assign  a 
foremost  place  to  all  those  inward  and 
spiritual  graces  which  enter  into  the  obe- 
dience of  the  affections — highly  approved 
of  God,  but  not  at  all  acceptable  to  the  gene- 
ral taste,  or  carrying  along  with  them  the 
general  congeniality  of  the  world.  And 
then,  though  they  do  not  possess  the  ingre- 
dient of  God's  approbation  in  a  way  so 
separate  and  unmixed,  we  would  say  that 
abstinence  from  profane  language,  and  at- 
tendance upon  church,  and  a  strict  keeping 
of  the  sabbath,  and  the  exercises  of  family 
worship,  and  the  more  rigid  decrees  of  so- 
briety, and  a  fearful  avoidance  of  every  en- 
croachment on  temperance  or  chastity, 
rank  more  appropriately  with  the  first  than 
with  the  second  class  of  virtues  ;  for  though 
there  be  many  in  society  who  have  no  re- 
ligion, and  yet  to  whom  several  of  these 
virtues  are  acceptable,  yet  you  will  allow, 
that  they  do  not  convey  such  a  universal 
popularity  along  with  them,  as  certain  other 
virtues  which  belong  indisputably  to  the 
second  class.  These  are  the  virtues  which 
have  a  more  obvious  and  immediate  bearing 
on  the  interest  of  society — such  as  the  truth 
which  is  punctual  to  all  its  engagements, 
and  the  honour  which  never  disappoints  the 
confidence  it  has  inspired,  and  the  compas- 
sion which  cannot  look  unmoved  at  any  of 
the  symptoms  of  human  wretchedness,  and 
the  generosity  which  scatters  unsparingly 
around  it.  These  are  virtues  which  God 
has  enjoined,  and  in  behalf  of  which  man 
lifts  the  testimony  of  a  loud  and  ready  ad- 


miration— virtues  in  which  there  is  a  meet- 
ing and  a  combining  of  both  the  properties 
of  our  text;  so  that  he  who  in  these  things 
serveth  Christ,  is  both  approved  of  God, 
and  acceptable  unto  nun. 

Let  a  steady  hold  be  kept  of  this  distinc- 
tion, and  it  will  be  found  capable  of  being 
turned  to  very  useful  application,  both  to 
the  object  of  illustrating  principle,  and  to 
the  important  object  of  detecting  character. 
For  this  purpose,  let  us  carry  the  distinc- 
tion along  with  us,  and  make  it  subservient 
to  the  establishment  of  two  or  three  succes- 
sive observations. 

First.  A  man  may  possess,  to  a  consider- 
able extent,  the  second  class  of  virtues,  and 
not  possess  so  much  as  one  iota  of  the  reli- 
gious principle  ;  and  that  among  other  rea- 
sons, because  a  man  may  feel  a  value  for 
one  of  the  attributes  which  belongs  to  this 
class  of  virtues,  and  have  no  value  what- 
ever for  the  other  attribute.     If  justice  be 
both  approved  by  God,  and  acceptable  to 
men,  he  may  on  the  latter  property  alone, 
be  induced  to  the  strictest  maintenance  of 
this  virtue — and  that  without  suffering  its 
former  property  to  have   any  practical  in- 
fluence whatever  on  any  of  his  habits,  or 
any  of  his  determinations ,  and  the  same 
with  every  other  virtue  belonging  to  this 
second  class.    As  residing  in  his  character, 
there  may  not  be  the  ingredient  of  godli- 
ness in  any  one  of  them.     He  may  be  well 
reported  on  account  of  them  by  men  ;  but 
with  God  he  may  lie  under  as  fearful  a 
severity  of  reckoning,  as  if  lie  wanted  them 
altogether.     Surely,  it  does  not  go  to  alle- 
viate the  withdrawment  of  your  homage 
from  God,  that  you  have  such  an  homage 
to  the  opinion  of  men,  as  influences  you  to 
do  things,  to  the  doing  of  which  the  law  of 
God  is  not  able  to  influence  you.     It  cannot 
be  said  to  palliate  the  revolting  of  your  in- 
clinations from  the  Creator,  that  you  have 
transferred  them  all  to  the  creature;  and 
given  an  ascendency  to  the  voice  of  human 
reputation,  which  you  have  refused  to  the 
voice  and  authority  of  your  Lawgiver  in 
heaven.     Your   want  of  subordination  to 
him,  is  surely  not  made  up  by  the  respectful 
subordination  that  you  render  to  the  taste 
or  the  judgment  of  society.     And  in  addi- 
tion to  this,  we  would  have  you  to  remem- 
ber, that  though  other  constitutional  prin- 
ciples, besides  a  regard  to  the  opinion  of 
others,  helped  to  form  the  virtues  of  the 
second  class  upon  your  character ;  though 
compassion     and    generosity,,  and    truth, 
would  have  broken  out  into  full  and  flou- 
rishing display  upon  you,  and  that,  just  be- 
cause you  had  a  native  sensibility,  or  a  na- 
tive love  of   rectitude  ;   yet,   if   the  first 
ingredient  be  wanting,  if  a  regard  to  the 
approbation  of  God  have  no  share  in  the 
production  of  the  moral  accomplishment — 
then  all  the  morality  you  can  pretend  to,  is 


128 


INFLUENCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


[DISC. 


of  as  little  religious  estimation,  and  is  as 
utterly  disconnected  with  the  rewards  of 
religion,  as  all  the  elegance  of  taste  you  can 
pretend  to,  or  all  the  raptured  love  of  music 
you  can  pretend  to,  or  all  the  vigour  and 
dexterity  of  bodily  exercise  you  can  pre- 
tend to.  All  these,  in  reference  to  the  great 
question  of  immortality,  profit  but  little ; 
and  it  is  godliness  alone  that  is  profitable 
unto  all  tilings.  It  is  upon  this  considera- 
tion that  we  would  have  you  to  open  your 
eyes  to  the  nakedness  of  your  condition  in 
the  sight  of  God ;  to  look  to  the  full  weight 
of  the  charge  that  he  may  prefer  against 
you ;  to  estimate  the  fearful  extent  of  the 
deficiency  under  which  you  labour  ;  to  re- 
sist the  delusive  whispering  of  peace,  when 
there  is  no  peace ;  and  to  understand,  that 
the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  every  child  of 
nature,  however  rich  he  may  be  in  the  vir- 
tues and  accomplishments  of  nature. 

But  again.  This  view  of  the  distinction 
between  the  two  sets  of  virtues,  will  serve 
to  explain  how  it  is,  that,  in  the  act  of  turn- 
ing unto  God,  the  one  class  of  them  appears 
to  gather  more  copiously,  and  more  con- 
spicuously, upon  the  front  of  a  renewed 
character,  than  the  other  class;  how  it  is 
that  the  former  wear  a  more  unequivocal 
aspect  of  religiousness  than  the  latter  ;  how 
it  is,  that  an  air  of  gravity,  and  decency, 
and  seriousness,  looks  to  be  more  in  alliance 
with  sanctity,  than  the  air  either  of  open 
integrity,  or  of  smiling  benevolence  ;  how 
it  is,  that  the  most  ostensible  change  in  the 
habit  of  a  converted  profligate,  is  that 
change  in  virtue  of  which  he  withdraws 
himself  from  the  companions  of  his  licen- 
tiousness ;  and  that  to  renounce  the  dissi- 
pations of  his  former  life  stands  far  more 
frequently,  or,  at  least,  far  more  visibly,  as- 
sociated with  the  act  of  putting  on  Chris- 
tianity, than  to  renounce  the  dishonesties  of 
his  former  life.  It  is  true,  that,  by  the  law  of 
the  gospel  he  is  laid  as  strictly  under  the 
authority  of  the  commandment  to  live  righ- 
teously, as  of  the  commandment  to  live 
soberly.  But  there  is  a  compound  cha- 
racter in  those  virtues  which  are  merely 
social ;  and  the  presence  of  the  one  ingre- 
dient serves  to  throw  into  the  shade,  or  to 
disguise  altogether,  the  presence  of  the  other 
ingredient.  There  is  a  greater  number  of 
irreligious  men,  who  are  at  the  same  time 
just  in  their  dealings,  than  there  is  of  irre- 
ligious men,  who  are  at  the  same  time  pure 
and  temperate  in  their  habits;  and  there- 
fore it  is  that  justice,  even  the  most  scrupu- 
lous, is  not  so  specifical,  and  of  course  not 
so  satisfying  a  mark  of  religion,  as  is  a  so- 
briety that  is  rigid  and  unviolable.  And 
all  this  helps  to  explain  how  it  is,  that  when 
a  man  comes  under  the  power  of  religion, 
to  abandon  the  levities  of  his  past  conduct 
is  an  event  which  stands  far  more  notice- 
ably out  upon  him,  at  this  stage  of  his  his- 


tory, than  to  abandon  the  iniquities  of  his 
past  conduct ;  that  the  most  characteristic 
transformation  which  takes  place  at  such  a 
time,  is  a  transformation  from  thoughtless^ 
ness,  and  from  licentious  gaiety,  and  from 
the  festive  indigencies  of  those  with  whom 
he  is  wont  to  run  to  all  those  excesses  of 
riot,  of  which  the  Apostle  says,  that  they 
which  do  these  things  shall  not  inherit  the 
kingdom  of  God  ;  for  even  then,  and  in  the 
very  midst  of  all  his  impiety,  he  may  have 
been  kindhearted,  and  there  might  be  no 
room  upon  his  person  for  a  visible  trans- 
formation from  inhumanity  of  character , 
even  then,  he  may  have  been  honourable, 
and  there  might  be  as  little  room  for  a 
visible  transformation  from  fraudulency  of 
character. 

Thirdly.  Nothing  is  more  obvious  than 
the  antipathy  that  is  felt  by  a  certain  class 
of  religionists  against  the  preaching  of  good 
works ;  and  the  antipathy  is  assuredly  well 
and  warrantably  grounded,  when  it  is  such 
a  preaching  as  goes  to  reduce  the  import- 
ance, or  to  infringe  upon  the  simplicity,  of 
the  great  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith, 
but  along  with  this,  may  there  not  be  re- 
marked the  toleration  with  which  they  will 
listen  to  a  discourse  upon  one  set  of  good 
works,  and  the  evident  coldness  and  dis- 
like with  which  they  listen  to  a  discourse  on 
another  set  of  them ;  how  a  pointed  remon- 
strance against  Sabbath  breaking  sounds  in 
their  ears  as  if  more  in  character  from  the 
pulpit,  than  a  pointed  remonstrance  against 
the  commission  of  theft,  or  the  speaking  of 
evil ;  how  an  eulogium  on  the  observance 
of  family  worship,  feels,  in  their  taste,  to  be 
more  impregnated  with  the  spirit  of  sacred- 
ness,  than  an  eulogium  on  the  virtues  of 
the  shop,  or  of  the  market-place ;  and  that 
while  the  one  is  approved  of  as  having 
about  it  the  solemn  and  the  suitable  cha- 
racteristics of  godliness,  the  other  is  stig- 
matized as  a  piece  of  barren,  heartless,  hea- 
thenish, and  philosophic  morality?  Now, 
this  antipathy  to  the  preaching  of  the  latter 
species  of  good  works,  has  something  pe- 
culiar in  it.  It  is  not  enough  to  say,  that 
it  arises  from  a  sensitive  alarm  about  the 
stability  of  the  doctrine  of  justification  ;  for 
let  it  be  observed,  that  this  doctrine  stands 
opposed  to  the  merit  not  of  one  particular 
class  of  performances,  but  to  the  merit  of 
all  performances  whatsoever.  It  is  just  as 
unscriptural  a  detraction  from  the  great 
truth  of  salvation  by  faith,  to  rest  our  ac- 
ceptance with  God  on  the  duties  of  prayer, 
or  of  rigid  Sabbath  keeping,  or  of  strict  and 
untainted  sobriety,  as  to  rest  it  on  the  punc- 
tual fulfilment  of  all  your  bargains,  and  on 
the  extent  of  your  manifold  liberalities.  It 
is  not,  then,  a  mere  zeal  about  the  great 
article  of  justification  which  lies  at  the  bot- 
tom of  that  peculiar  aversion  that  is  felt 
towards  a  sermon  on  some  social  or  hu- 


II.1 


IN  AUGMENTING  THE  MERCANTILE  VIRTUES. 


129 


mane  accomplishment;  and  that  is  not  felt 
towards  a  sermon  on  sobermindedness,  or 
a  sermon  on  the  observation  of  the  sacra- 
ment, or  a  sermon  on  any  of  those  perform- 
ances which  bear  a  more  direct  and  exclu- 
sive reference  to  God.  We  shall  find  the 
explanation  of  this  phenomenon,  which 
often  presents  itself  in  the  religious  world, 
in  that  distinction  of  which  we  have  just 
required  that  it  should  be  kept  in  steady 
hold,  and  followed  into  its  various  applica- 
tions. The  aversion  in  question  is  often,  in 
fact,  a  well  founded  aversion,  to  a  topic, 
which,  though  religious  in  the  matter  of  it, 
may,  from  the  way  in  which  it  is  proposed, 
be  altogether  secular  in  the  principle  of  it. 
It  is  resistance  to  what  is  deemed,  and  justly 
deemed,  an  act  of  usurpation  on  the  part 
of  certain  virtues,  which,  when  unanimated 
by  a  sentiment  of  godliness,  are  entitled  to 
no  place  whatever  in  the  ministrations  of 
the  gospel  of  Christ.  It  proceeds  from  a 
most  enlightened  fear,  lest  that  should  be 
held  to  make  up  the  whole  of  religion, 
which  is  in  fact  utterly  devoid  of  the  spirit 
of  religion  ;  and  from  a  true  and  tender  ap- 
prehension, lest,  on  the  possession  of  cer- 
tain accomplishments,  which  secure  a  fleet- 
ing credit  throughout  the  little  hour  of  this 
world's  history,  deluded  man  should  look 
forward  to  his  eternity  with  hope,  and  up- 
ward to  his  God  with  complacency,  while 
he  carries  not  on  his  forehead  one  vestige 
of  the  character  of  heaven,  one  lineament 
of  the  aspect  of  godliness. 

And  lastly.  The  first  class  of  virtues 
bear  the  character  of  religiousness  more 
strongly^  just  because  they  bear  that  cha- 
racter more  singly.  The  people  who  are 
without,  might,  no  doubt,  see  in  every  real 
Christian  the  virtues  of  the  second  class 
also;  but  these  virtues  do  not  belong  to 
them  peculiarly  and  exclusively.  Forthough 
it  be  true,  that  every  religious  man  must  be 
honest,  the  converse  does  not  follow,  that 
every  honest  man  must  lie  religious.  And 
it  is  because  the  social  accomplishments  do 
not  form  the  specific,  that  neither  do  they 
form  the  most  prominent  and  distinguish- 
ing marks  of  Christianity.  They  may  also 
be  recognized  as  features  in  the  character 
of  men.  who  utterly  repudiate  the  whole 
style  and  doctrine  of  the  New  Testament; 
and  hence  a  very  prevalent  impression  in 
society,  that  the  faith  of  the  gospel  does  not 
bear  so  powerfully  and  so  directly  on  the 
relative  virtues  of  human  conduct.  A  few 
instances  of  hypocrisy  amongst  the  more  se- 
rious professors  of  our  faith,  serve  to  rivet 
the  impression,  and  to  give  it  perpetuity  in 
the  world.  One  single  example,  indeed,  of 
sanctimonious  duplicity  will  suffice,  in  the 
judgment  of  many,  to  cover  the  whole  of 
vital  and  orthodox  Christianity  with  dis- 
grace. The  report  of  it  will  be  borne  in 
triumph  amongst  the  companies  of»the  ir- 
17 


religious.  The  man  who  pays  no  homage 
to  sabbaths  or  to  sacraments,  will  be  con- 
trasted in  the  open,  liberal,  and  manly  style 
of  all  his  transactions,  with  the  low  cun- 
ning of  this  drivelling  methodistical  pre- 
tender ;  and  the  loud  laugh  of  a  multitude 
of  scorners,  will  give  a  force  and  a  swell  to 
this  public  outcry  against  the  whole  cha- 
racter of  the  sainthood.. 

Now,  this  delusion  on  the  part  of  the  un- 
believing world  is  very  natural,  and  ought 
not  to  excite  our  astonishment.  We  are 
not  surprized,  from  the  reasons  already  ad- 
verted to,  that  the  truth,  and  the  justice,  and 
the  humanity,  and  the  moral  loveliness, 
which  do  in  fact  belong  to  every  new  crea- 
ture in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  should  miss 
their  observation  ;  or,  at  least,  fail  to  be  re- 
cognized among  the  other  more  obvious 
characteristics  into  which  believers  have 
been  translated  by  the  faith  of  the  gospel. 
But,  on  this  very  subject  there  is  a  tendency 
to  delusion  on  the  part  of  the  disciples  of 
the  faith.  They  need  to  be  reminded  of 
the  solemn  and  indispensable  religiousness 
of  the  second  class  of  virtues.  They  need 
to  be  told,  that  though  these  virtues  do  pos- 
sess the  one  ingredient  of  being  appruved 
by  men,  and  may,  on  this  single  account, 
be  found  to  reside  in  the  characters  of  those 
who  live  without  God — yet,  that  they  also 
possess  the  other  ingredient  of  being  ac- 
ceptable unto  God;  and,  on  this  latter  ac- 
count, should  be  made  the  subjects  of  their 
most  strenuous  cultivation.  They  must  no! 
lose  sight  of  the  one  ingredient  in  the  other ;. 
or  stigmatize,  as  so  many  fruitless  and  in- 
significant moralities,  those  virtues  which 
enter  as  component  parts,  into  the  service 
of  Christ ;  so  that  he  who  in  these  things 
serveth  Christ,  is  both  acceptable  to  God, 
and  approved  by  men.  They  must  not 
expend  all  their  warmth  on  the  high  and 
peculiar  doctrine  of  the  New  Testament, 
while  they  offer  a  cold  and  reluctant  ad- 
mission to  the  practical  duties  of  the  New 
Testament.  The  Apostle  has  bound  the 
one  to  the  other  by  a  tie  of  immediate  con- 
nexion. Wherefore,  lie  not  one  to  another]  as 
ye  have  put  off  the  old  man  and  his  deeds, 
and  put  on  the  new  man,  which  is  formed 
after  the  image  of  God,  in  righteousness 
and  true  holiness.  Here  the  very  obvious 
and  popular  accomplishment  of  truth  is 
grafted  on  the  very  peculiar  doctrine  of  re- 
generation: and  you  altogether  mistake  the 
kind  of  transforming  influence  which  the 
faith  of  the  gospel  brings  along  with  it,  if 
you  think  that  uprightness  of  character  does 
not  emerge  at  the  same  time  with  godliness 
of  character;  or  that  the  virtues  of  society 
do  not  form  upon  the  believer  into  as  rich 
and  varied  an  assemblage,  as  do  the  virtues 
of  the  sanctuary ;  or  that,  while  he  puts  on 
those  graces  which  are  singly  acceptable  to 
God,  he  falls  behind  in  any  of  those  graceo- 


130 


INFLUENCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY,  &C. 


[disc. 


which  are  both  acceptable  to  God,  and  ap- 
proved of  men. 

Let,  therefore,  every  pretender  to  Chris- 
tianity vindicate  this  assertion  by  his  own 
personal  history  in  the  world.    Let  him  not 
lay  his  godliness  aside,  when  he  is  done 
with  the  morning  devotion  of  his  family ; 
but  carry  it  abroad  with  him,  and  make  it 
his  companion  and  his  guide  through  the 
whole  business  of  the  day ;  always  bearing 
in  his  heart  the  sentiment,  that  thou  God 
seest  me ;  and  remembering,  that  there  is  not 
one  hour  that  can  flow,  or  one  occasion 
that  can  cast  up,  where  his  law  is  not  pre- 
sent with  some  imperious  exaction  or  other. 
It  is  false,  that  the  principle  of  christian 
sanctification  possesses  no  influence  over 
the  familiarities  of  civil  and  ordinary  life. 
It  is  altogether  false,  that  godliness  is  a  vir- 
tue of  such  a  lofty  and  monastic  order,  as 
to  hold  its  dominion  only  over  the  solemni- 
ties of  worship,  or  over  the  solitudes  of 
prayer  and  spiritual  contemplation.     If  it 
be  substantially  a  grace  within  us  at  all,  it 
will  give  a  direction  and  a  colour  to  the 
whole  of  our  path  in  society.     There  is  not 
one  conceivable  transaction,  amongst  all  the 
manifold  varieties  of  human  employment, 
which  it  is  not  fitted  to  animate  by  its  spirit. 
There  is  nothing  that  meets  us  too  homely 
to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  obtaining,  from 
its  influence,  the  stamp  of  something  celes- 
tial.    It  offers  to  take  the  whole  man  under 
its  ascendency,  and  to  subordinate  all  his 
movements ;  nor   does   it  hold  the   place 
which    rightfully   belongs  to   it,  till  it  be 
vested  with  a  presiding  authority  over  the 
entire  system  of  human  affairs.    And  there- 
fore it  is,  that  the  preacher  is  not  bringing 
down  Christianity — he   is  only  sending  it 
abroad  over  the  field  of  its  legitimate  ope- 
ration, when  he  goes  with  it  to  your  count- 
ing-houses, and  there  rebukes  every  selfish 
inclination  that  would  carry  you  ever  so 
little  within  the  limits  of  fraudulency;  when 
he  enters  into  your  chambers  of  agency, 
and  there  detects  the  character  of  falsehood, 
which  lurks  under  all  the  plausibility  of 
your   multiplied   and   excessive   charges  ; 
when  he  repairs  to  the  crowded  market- 
place,  and   pronounces  of  every  bargain, 
over  which  truth,  in  all  the  strictness  of 
quakerism,  has  not  presided,  that  it  is  tainted 
with  moral  evil ;  when  he  looks  into  your 
shops,  and,  in  listening  to  the  contest  of 
argument  between  him  who  magnifies  his 
article,  and  him  who  pretends  to  undervalue 
it,  he  calls  it  the  contest  of  avarice,  broken 
loose  from  the  restraints  of  integrity.     He 
is  not,  by  all  this,  vulgarizing  religion,  or 
giving  it  the  hue  and  the  character  of  earth- 
liness.     He  is  only  asserting  the  might  and 
the  universality  of  its  sole  preeminence  over 
man.    And  therefore  it  is,  that  if  possible 
to  solemnize  his  hearers  to  the  practice  of 
simplicity  and  godly  sincerity  in  their  deal- 


ings, he  would  try  to  make  the  odiousness 
of  sin  stand  visibly  out  on  every  shade  and 
modification  of  dishonesty ;  and  to  assure 
them  that  if  there  be  a  place  in  our  world, 
where  the  subtle  evasion,  and  the  dexterous 
imposition,  and  the  sly  but  gainful  conceal- 
ment, and  the  report  which  misleads  an 
inquirer,  and  the  gloss  which  tempts  the 
unwary  purchaser — are  not  only  currently 
practised  in  the  walks  of  merchandize,  but, 
when  not  carried  forward  to  the  glare  and 
the  literality  of  falsehood,  are  beheld  with 
general  connivance;  if  there  be  a  place 
where  the  sense  of  morality  has  thus  fallen, 
and  all  the  nicer  delicacies  of  conscience 
are  overborne  in  the  keen  and  ambitious 
rivalry  of  men  hasting  to  be  rich,  and 
wholly  given  over  to  the  idolatrous  service 
of  the  god  of  this  world — then  that  is  the 
place,  the  smoke  of  whose  iniquity  rises  be- 
fore Him  who  sitteth  on  the  throne,  in  a 
tide  of  the  deepest  and  most  revolting  abo- 
mination. 

And  here  we  have  to  complain  of  the 
public  injustice  that  is  done  to  Christianity 
when  one  of  its  ostentatious  professors  has 
acted  the  hypocrite,  and  stands  in  disgrace 
ful  exposure  before  the  eyes  of  the  world. 
We  advert  to  the  readiness  with  which  this 
is  turned  into  a  matter  of  general  impeach- 
ment, against  every  appearance  of  serious- 
ness ;  and  how  loud  the  exclamation  is  against 
the  religion  of  all  who  signalize  them- 
selves ;  and  that,  if  the  aspect  of  godliness 
be  so  very  decided  as  to  become  an  aspect 
of  peculiarity,  then  is  this  peculiarity  con- 
verted into  a  ground  of  distrust  and  suspi- 
cion against  the  bearer  of  it.  Now,  it  so 
happens,  that  in  the  midst  of  this  world 
lying  in  wickedness,  a  man,  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian at  all,  must  signalize  himself.  Neither 
is  he  in  a  way  of  salvation,  unless  he  be 
one  of  a  very  peculiar  people ;  nor  would 
we  precipitately  consign  him  to  discredit, 
even  though  the  peculiarity  be  so  very 
glaring  as  to  provoke  the  charge  of  me- 
thodism.  But  instead  of  making  one  man's 
hypocrisy  act  as  a  draw-back  upon  the 
reputation  of  a  thousand,  we  submit,  if  it 
would  not  be  a  fairer  and  more  philosophi- 
cal procedure,  just  to  betake  one's-self  to 
the  method  of  induction — to  make  a  walk- 
ing survey  over  the  town,  and  record  an 
inventory  of  all  the  men  in  it  who  are  so 
very  far  gone  as  to  have  the  voice  of  psalms 
in  their  family ;  or  as  to  attend  the  meet- 
ings of  fellowship  for  prayer ;  or  as  scru- 
pulously to  abstain  from  all  that  is  ques- 
tionable in  the  amusements  of  the  world  ; 
or  as,  by  any  other  marked  and  visible 
symptom  whatever,  to  stand  out  to  general 
observation  as  the  members  of  a  saintly 
and  separated  society.  We  know,  that  even 
of  such  there  are  a  few,  who,  if  Paul  were 
alive,  would  move  him  to  weep  for  the  re- 
proach they  bring  upon  his  master.     But 


III.1 


INFLUENCE  OF  SELFISHNESS  ON  MERCANTILE  INTERCOURSE. 


131 


we  also  know,  that  the  blind  and  impe- 
tuous world  exaggerates  the  few  into  the 
many ;  inverts  the  process  of  atonement 
altogether,  by  laying  the  sins  of  one  man 
upon  the  multitude ;  looks  at  their  general 
aspect  of  sanctity,  and  is  so  engrossed  with 
this  single  expression  of  character,  as  to  be 
insensible  to  the  noble  uprightness,  and  the 
tender  humanity  with  which  this  sanctity 
is  associated.  And  therefore  it  is,  that  we 
offer  the  assertion,  and  challenge  all  to  its 
most  thorough  and  searching  investigation, 
that  the  Christianity  of  these  people,  which 
many  think  does  nothing  but  cant,  and 
profess,  and  run  after  ordinances,  has  aug- 
mented their  honesties  and  their  liberalities, 
and  that,  tenfold  beyond  the  average  cha- 
racter of  society;  that  these  are  the  men 
we  oftenest  meet  with  in  the  mansions  of 


poverty — and  who  look  with  the  most 
wakeful  eye  over  all  the  sufferings  and  ne- 
cessities of  our  species — and  who  open 
their  hand  most  widely  in  behalf  of  the 
imploring  and  the  friendless — and  to  whom, 
in  spite  of  all  their  mockery,  the  men  of 
the  world  are  sure,  in  the  negociations  of 
business,  to  award  the  readiest  confidence 
— and  who  sustain  the  most  splendid  part  in 
all  those  great  movements  of  philanthropy 
which  bear  on  the  general  interests  of  man- 
kind— and  who,  with  their  eye  full  upon 
eternity,  scatter  the  most  abundant  blessings 
over  the  fleeting  pilgrimage  of  time — and 
who,  while  they  hold  their  conversation  in 
heaven,  do  most  enrich  the  earth  we  tread 
upon,  with  all  those  virtues  which  secure  en- 
joyment to  families,  and  uphold  the  order 
and  prosperity  of  the  commonwealth. 


DISCOURSE  III. 

The  Power  of  Selfishness  in  promoting  the  Honesties  of  mercantile  Intercourse. 

"  And  if  you  do  good  to  them  which  do  good  to  you,  what  thank  have  ye?  for  sinners  also  do  even  the 

same." — Luke  vi.  33. 


It  is  to  be  remarked  of  many  of  those 
duties,  the  performance  of  which  confers 
the  least  distinction  upon  an  individual, 
that  they  are  at  the  same  time  the  very 
duties,  the  violation  of  which  would  con- 
fer upon  him  the  largest  measure  of  oblo- 
quy and  disgrace.  Truth  and  justice  do 
not  serve  to  elevate  a  man  so  highly  above 
the  average  morality  of  his  species,  as 
would  generosity)  or  anient  friendship,  or 
devoted  and  disinterested  patriotism ;  the 
former  are  greatly  more  common  than  the 
latter;  and,  on  that  account,  the  presence 
of  them  is  not  so  calculated  to  signalize  the 
individual  to  whom  they  belong.  But  that 
is  one  account,  also,  why  the  absence  of 
them  would  make  him  a  more  monstrous 
exception  to  the  general  run  of  character 
in  society.  And,  accordingly,  while  it  is 
true,  that  there  are  more  men  of  integrity 
in  the  world,  than  there  are  men  of  very 
wide  and  liberal  beneficence — it  is  also  true, 
that  one  act  of  falsehood,  or  one  act  of  dis- 
honesty, would  stamp  a  far  more  burning 
infamy  on  the  name  of  a  transgressor  than 
any  defect  in  those  more  heroic  charities, 
and  extraordinary  virtues,  of  which  hu- 
manity is  capable. 

So  it  is  far  more  disgraceful  not  to  be 
just  to  another,  than  not  to  be  kind  to  him ; 
and,  at  the  same  time,  an  act  of  kindness 
may  be  held  in  higher  positive  estimation 
than  an  act  of  justice.  The  one  is  my  right 
— nor  is  there  any  call  for  the  homage  of  a 


particular  testimony  when  it  is  rendered. 
The  other  is  additional  to  my  right — the 
offering  of  a  spontaneous  good  will  which 
I  had  no  title  to  exact ;  and  which,  there- 
fore, when  rendered  to  me.  excites  in  my 
bosom  the  cordiality  of  a  warmer  acknow- 
ledgement. And  yet,  our  Saviour,  who 
knew  what  was  in  man,  saw,  that  much 
of  the  apparent  kindness  of  nature,  was  re- 
solvable into  the  real  selfishness  of  nature  ; 
that  much  of  the  good  done  unto  others, 
was  done  in  the  hope  that  these  others 
would  do  something  again.  And,  we  be- 
lieve it  would  be  found  by  an  able  analyst 
of  the  human  character,  thai  this  was  the 
secret  but  substantial  principle  of  many  of 
the  civilities  and  hospitalities  of  ordinary 
intercourse — that  if  there  were  no  expecta- 
tion either  of  a  return  in  kind,  or  of  a  re- 
turn in  gratitude,  or  of  a  return  in  popu- 
larity, many  of  the  sweetening  and  cement 
ing  virtues  of  a  neighbourhood  would  be 
practically  done  away — all  sen  ing  to  prove, 
that  a  multitude  of  virtues,  whirl),  in  effect, 
promoted  the  comfort  and  the  interest  of 
others,  were  tainted  in  principle  by  a  latent 
regard  to  one's  own  interest ;  and  that  thus 
being  the  fellowship  of  those  who  did  good, 
either  as  a  return  for  the  good  done  unto 
them,  or  who  did  good  in  hope  of  such  a 
return,  it  might  be,  in  fact,  what  our  Sa- 
viour characterizes  in  the  text — the  fellow- 
ship of  sinners. 

But  if  to  do  that  which  is  unjust,  is  still 


132 


INFLUENCE   OF   SELFISHNESS   ON   MERCANTILE    INTERCOURSE.  [flSC. 


more  disgraceful  than  not  to  do  that  which 
is  kind,  it  would  prove  more  strikingly  than 
before,  how  deep]y  sin  had  tainted  the 
moral  constitution  of  our  species — could  it 
be  shown,  that  the  great  practical  restraint 
on  the  prevalence  of  this  more  disgraceful 
thing  in  society,  is  the  tie  of  that  common 
selfishness  which  actuates  and  characterizes 
all  its  members.  It  were  a  curious  but  im- 
portant question,  were  it  capable  of  being  re- 
solved— if  men  did  not  feel  it  their  interest 
to  be  honest,  how  much  of  the  actual  doings 
of  honesty  would  still  be  kept  up  in  the 
world  ?  It  is  our  own  opinion  of  the  nature 
of  man,  that  it  has  its  honourable  feelings, 
and  its  instinctive  principles  of  rectitude, 
and  its  constitutional  love  of  truth  and  of 
integrity;  and  that,  on  the  basis  of  these,  a 
certain  portion  of  uprightness  would  re- 
main amongst  us,  without  the  aid  of  any 
prudence,  or  any  calculation  whatever.  All 
this  we  have  fully  conceded ;  and  have  al- 
ready attempted  to  demonstrate,  that,  in 
spite  of  it,  the  character  of  man  is  tho- 
roughly pervaded  by  the  very  essence  of 
sinfulness  ;  because,  with  all  the  native  vir- 
tues which  adorn  it,  there  adheres  to  it  that 
foulest  of  all  spiritual  deformities — uncon- 
cern about  God,  and  even  antipathy  to  God. 
It  has  been  argued  against  the  orthodox 
doctrine  of  the  universality  of  human  cor- 
ruption, that  even  without  the  sphere  of  the 
operation  of  the  gospel,  there  do  occur  so 
many  engaging  specimens  of  worth  and  be- 
nevolence in  society.  The  reply  is,  that 
this  may  be  no  deduction  from  the  doctrine 
whatever,  but  be  even  an  aggravation  of  it 
— should  the  very  men  who  exemplify  so 
much  of  what  is  amiable,  carry  in  their 
hearts  an  indifference  to  the  will  of  that 
Being  who  thus  hath  formed,  and  thus  hath 
embellished  them.  But  it  would  be  a  heavy 
deduction  indeed,  not. from  the  doctrine, 
but  from  its  hostile  and  opposing  argument, 
could  it  be  shown,  that  the  vast  majority  of 
all  equitable  dealing  amongst  men,  is  per- 
formed, not  on  the  principle  of  honour  at 
all,  but  on  the  principle  of  selfishness — that 
this  is  the  soil  upon  which  the  honesty  of 
the  world  mainly  flourishes,  and  is  sus- 
<!ained  ;  that,  were  the  connexion  dissolved 
between  justice  to  others  and  our  own  par- 
ticular advantage,  this  would  go  very  far  to 
banish  the  observation  of  justice  from  the 
earth;  that,  generally  speaking,  men  are 
honest,  not  because  they  are  lovers  of  God, 
and  not  even  because  they  are  lovers  of  vir- 
tue, but  because  they  are  lovers  of  their 
ownselves — insomuch,  that  if  it  were  pos- 
sible to  disjoin  the  good  of  self  altogether 
from  the  habit  of  doing  what  was  fair,  as 
well  as  from  the  habit  of  doing  what  was 
kind  to  ihe  people  around  us,  this  would 
not  merely  isolate  the  children  of  men 
from  each  other,  in  respect  of  the  obliga- 
tions of  beneficence,  but  it  would  arm  them 


into  an  undisguised  hostility  against  each 
other,  in  respect  to  their  rights.  Tim  mere 
disinterested  principle  would  set  up  a  feeble 
barrier,  indeed,  against  a  desolating  tide  of 
selfishness,  now  set  loose  from  the  consi- 
deration of  its  own  advantage.  The  genu- 
ine depravity  of  the  human  heart  would 
burst  forth  and  show  itself  in  its  true  cha- 
racters ;  and  the  world  in  which  we  live  be 
transformed  into  a  scene  of  unblushing 
fraud,  of  open  and  lawless  depredation. 

And,  perhaps,  after  all,  the  best  way  of 
arriving  practically  at  the  solution  of  this 
question  would  be,  not  by  a  formal  induc- 
tion of  particular  cases,  but  by  committing 
the  matter  to  the  gross  and  general  expe- 
rience of  those  who  are  most  conversant  in 
the  affairs  of  business. — There  is  a  sort  of 
undefinable  impression  you  all  have  upon 
this  subject,  on  the  justness  of  which  how- 
ever, we  are  disposed  to  lay  a  very  consi- 
derable stress — an  impression  gathered  out 
of  the  mass  of  the  recollections  of  a  whole 
life — an  impression  founded  on  what  you 
may  have  observed  in  the  history  of  your 
own  doings — a  kind  of  tact  that  you  have 
acquired  as  the  fruit  of  your  repeated  in- 
tercourse with  men,  and  of  the  manifold 
transactions  that  you  have  had  with  them, 
and  of  the  number  of  times  in  which  you 
have  been  personally  implicated  with  the 
play  of  human  passions,  and  human  in- 
terests. It  is  our  own  conviction,  that  a 
well  exercised  merchant  could  cast  a  more 
intelligent  glance  at  this  question,  than  a 
well  exercised  metaphysician ;  and  there 
fore  do  we  submit  its  decision  to  those  of 
you  who  have  hazarded  most  largely,  and 
most  frequently,  on  the  faith  of  agents,  and 
customers,  and  distant  correspondents.  We 
know  the  fact  of  a  very  secure  and  well 
warranted  confidence  in  the  honesty  of 
others,  being  widely  prevalent  amongst 
you :  and  that,  were  it  not  for  this,  all  the 
interchanges  of  trade  would  be  suspended ; 
and  that  confidence  is  the  very  soul  and  life 
of  commercial  activity ;  and  it  is  delightful 
to  think,  how  thus  a  man  can  suffer  all  the 
wealth  which  belongs  to  him  to  depart  from 
under  his  eye,  and  to  traverse  the  mightiest 
oceans  and  continents  of  our  world,  and  to 
pass  into  the  custody  of  men  whom  he 
never  saw.  And  it  is  a  sublime  homage, 
one  should  think,  to  the  honourable  and 
high-minded  principles  of  our  nature,  that, 
under  their  guardianship,  the  adverse  hemi- 
spheres of  the  globe  should  be  bound  to- 
gether in  safe  and  profitable  merchandise; 
and  that  thus  one  should  sleep  with  a  bo- 
som undisturbed  by  jealousy,  in  Britain 
who  has  all,  and  more  than  all  his  property 
treasured  in  the  warehouses  of  India — and 
that,  just  because  there  he  knows  there  is 
vigilance  to  defend  it,  and  activity  to  dis- 
pose of  it,  and  truth  to  account  for  it,  and 
all  those  trusty  virtues  which  ennoble  the 


III.j 


INFLUENCE    OF    SELFISHNESS    ON    MERCANTILE    INTERCOURSE. 


133 


character  of  man  to  shield  it  from  injury, 
and  send  it  back  again  in  an  increasing  tide 
of  opulence  to  his  door. 

There  is  no  question,  then,  as  to  the  fact 
of  a  very  extended  practical  honesty,  be- 
tween man  and  man,  in  their  intercourse 
with  each  other.  The  only  question  is,  as 
to  the  reason  of  the  fact.  Why  is  it,  that 
he  whom  you  have  trusted  acquits  himself 
of  his  trust  with  such  correctness  and  fidel- 
ity ?  Whether  is  Ins  mind  in  so  doing,  most 
set  upon  your  interest  or  upon  his  own  ? 
Whether  is  it  because  he  seeks  your  ad- 
vantage in  it,  or  because  he  finds  it  is  his 
own  advantage  1  Tell  us  to  winch  of  the 
two  concerns  he  is  most  tremblingly  alive — 
to  your  property,  or  to  his  own  character? 
and  whether,  upon  the  last  of  these  feelings, 
he  may  not  be  more  forcibly  impelled  to 
equitable  dealing  than  upon  the  first  of 
them  ?  We  well  know,  that  there  is  room 
enough  in  his  bosom  for  both  ;  but  to  de- 
termine how  powerfully  selfishness  is  blen- 
ded with  the  punctualities  and  the  integrities 
of  business,  let  us  ask  those  who  can  speak 
most  soundly  and  experimentally  on  the 
subject,  what  would  be  the  result,  if  the  ele- 
ment of  selfishness  were  so  detached  from 
the  operations  of  trade,  that  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  a  man  suffering  in  his  pros- 
perity, because  he  suffered  in  his  good 
name:  that  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a 
desertion  of  custom  and  employment  com- 
ing upon  the  back  of  a  blasted  credit,  and  a 
tainted  reputation;  in  a  word,  if  the  only 
security  we  had  of  man  was  his  principles, 
and  that  his  interest  flourished  and  aug- 
mented just  ;is  surely  without  his  princi- 
ples ;is  with  them?  Tell  us,  if  the  hold  we 
have  id'  a  man's  own  personal  advantage 
were  thus  broken  down,  in  how  far  the  vir- 
tues of  the  mercantile  world  would  survive 
it?  Would  not  the  world  of  trade  sustain 
as  violent  a  derangement  on  this  mighty 
hold  being  cut  asunder,  as  the  world  of  na- 
ture would  on  the  suspending  of  the  law  of 
gravitation?  Would  not  the  whole  system, 
in  fad.  fall  to  pieces,  and  be  dissolved  ? 
Would  not  men,  when  thus  released  from 
the  magical  chain  of  their  own  interest, 
which  bound  them  together  into  a  fair  and 
seeming  compact  of  principle,  like  dogs  of 
rapine  let  loose  upon  their  prey,  overleap 
the  barrier  which  formerly  restrained  them? 
Does  not  this  prove,  that  selfishness,  after 
all,  is  the  grand  principle  on  which  the 
brotherhood  of  the  human  race  is  made  to 
hang  together;  and  that  he  who  can  make 
the  wrath  of  man  to  praise  him,  has  also, 
upon  the  selfishness  of  man,  caused  a  most 
beauteous  order  of  wide  and  useful  inter- 
course to  be  suspended? 
Hut  lei  us  here  stop  to  observe,  that,  while 
j  much  in  this  contemplation  to  mag- 
nify the  wisdom  of  the  Supreme  Contriver, 
there  is  also  much  in  it  to  huinhle  man,  and 


to  convict  him  of  the  deceitfulness  of  that 
moral  complacency  with  which  he  looks  to 
his  own  character,  and  his  own  attainments. 
There  is  much  in  it  to  demonstrate,  that 
his  righteousness  are  as  filthy  rags;  and  that 
the  idolatry  of  self,  however  hidden  in  its 
operation,  may  be  detected  in  almost  every 
one  of  them.  God  may  combine  the  sepa- 
rate interests  of  every  individual  of  the  hu- 
man race,  and  the  strenuous  prosecution  of 
these  interests  by  each  of  them,  into  a  har- 
monious system  of  operation,  for  the  good 
of  one  great  and  extended  family.  But  if, 
on  estimating  the  character  of  each  indivi- 
dual member  of  that  family,  we  shall  find 
that  the  mainspring  of  his  actions  is  the 
urgency  of  a  selfish  inclination;  and  that  to 
this  his  very  virtues  an*  subordinate :  and 
that  even  the  honesties  which  mark  his  con- 
duct are  chiefly,  though,  perhaps,  insensi- 
bly due  to  the  selfishness  which  actuates 
and  occupies  his  whole  heart; — then,  let 
the  semblance  be  what  it  may,  still  the  re- 
ality of  the  case  accords  with  the  most  mor- 
tifying representations  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment. The  moralities  of  nature  are  but  the 
moralities  of  a  day,  and  will  cease  to  be  ap- 
plauded when  this  world,  the  only  theatre 
of  their  applause,  is  burnt  up.  They  are. 
but  the  blossoms  of  that  rank  efflorescence 
which  is  nourished  on  the  soil  of  human 
corruption,  and  can  never  bring  forth  fruit 
unto  immortality.  The  discerner  of  all  se- 
crets sees  that  they  emanate  from  a  princi- 
ple which  is  at  utter  war  with  the  charity 
that  prepares  for  the  enjoyments,  and  that 
glows  in  the  bosoms  of  the  celestial ;  and, 
therefore,  though  highly  esteemed  among 
men,  they  may  be  in  His  sight  an  abomina- 
tion. 

Let  us,  if  possible,  make  this  still  cleaver 
to  your  apprehension,  by  descending  more 
minutely  into  particulars.  There  is  not  one 
member  of  the  great  mercantile  family,  with 
wdiom  there  does  not  obtain  a  reciprocal  in- 
terest between  himself  and  all  those  who 
compose  the  circle  of  his  various  corres- 
pondents. He  does  them  good;  but  his  eye 
is  all  the  while  open  to  the  expectation  of 
their  doing  him  something  again.  They 
minister  to  him  all  the  profits  of  his  employ- 
ment; but  not  unless  he  minister  to  them 
of  his  service,  and  attention,  and  fidelity. 
Insomuch,  that  if  nis  credit  abandon  him, 
his  prosperity  will  also  abandon  him.  If 
he  forfeit  the  confidence  of  others,  he  will 
also  forfeit  their  custom  along  with  it.  So 
that,  in  perfect  consistency  with  interest 
being  the  reigning  idol  of  his  soul,  he  may 
still  he.  in  every  way,  as  sensitive  of  en- 
croachment upon  his  reputation,  as  he  would 
lie  el'  encroachment  upon  his  property;  and 
he  as  vigilant,  to  the  full,  in  ffuarding  his 
name  against  the  breath  of  calumny,  or  sus- 
picion, as  in  guarding  his  estate  against  the 
inroads  of  a  depredator.    Now,  this  tie  of 


134 


INFLUENCE    OF   SELFISHNESS    ON    MERCANTILE    INTERCOURSE.  [DISC. 


reciprocity,  which  binds  him  into  fellowship 
and  good  faith  with  society  at  large,  will 
sometimes,  in  the  mere  course  of  business, 
and  its  unlooked-for  fluctuations,  draw  one 
or  two  individuals  into  a  still  more  special 
intimacy  with  himself.  There  may  be  a 
lucrative  partnership,  in  which  it  is  the 
pressing  necessity  of  each  individual,  that 
all  of  them,  for  a  time  at  least,  stick  closely 
and  steadily  together.  Or  there  may  be  a 
thriving  interchange  of  commodities  struck 
out,  where  it  is  the  mutual  interest  of  all 
who  are  concerned,  that  each  take  his  as- 
signed part  and  adhere  to  it.  Or  there  may 
be  a  promising  arrangement  devised,  which 
it  needs  concert  and  understanding  to  ef- 
fectuate; and,  for  which  purpose,  several 
may  enter  into  a  skilful  and  well-ordered 
combination. 

We  are  neither  saying  that  this  is  very 
general  in  the  mercantile  world,  or  that  it 
is  in  the  slightest  degree  unfair.  But  you 
must  be  sensible,  that,  amid  the  reelings  and 
movements  of  the  great  trading  society,  the 
phenomenon  sometimes  offers  itself  of  a 
groupe  of  individuals  who  have  entered 
into  some  compact  of  mutual  accommoda- 
tion, and  who,  therefore,  look  as  if  they  were 
isolated  from  the  rest  by  the  bond  of  some 
more  strict  and  separate  alliance.  All  we 
aim  at,  is  to  gather  illustration  to  our  prin- 
ciple, out  of  the  way  in  which  the  members 
of  this  associated  cluster  conduct  themselves 
to  each  other;  how  such  a  cordiality  may 
pass  between  them,  as  one  could  suppose 
to  be  the  cordiality  of  genuine  friendship  ; 
how  such  an  intercourse  might  be  main- 
tained among  their  families,  as  might  look 
like  the  intercourse  of  unmingled  affection ; 
how  such  an  exuberance  of  mutual  hospi- 
tality might  be  poured  forth  as  to  recal  those 
poetic  days  when  avarice  was  unknown,  and 
men  lived  in  harmony  together  on  the  fruits 
of  one  common  inheritance ;  and  how  nobly 
disdainful  each  member  of  the  combination 
appeared  to  be  of  such  little  savings,  as  could 
be  easily  surrendered  to  the  general  good 
and  adjustment  of  the  whole  concern.  And 
all  this,  you  will  observe,  so  long  as  the  con- 
cern prospered,  and  it  was  for  the  interest 
of  each  to  abide  by  it ;  and  the  respective 
accounts  current  gladdened  the  heart  of 
every  individual  by  the  exhibition  of  an 
abundant  share  of  the  common  benefit  to 
himself.  Bu'  then,  every  such  system  of 
operations  comes  to  an  end.  And  what  we 
ask  is,  if  it  be  at  all  an  unlikely  evolution 
of  our  nature,  that  the  selfishness  which  lay 
in  wrapt  concealment,  during  the  progress 
of  these  transactions,  should  now  come  for- 
ward and  put  out  to  view  its  cloven  foot, 
when  they  draw  to  their  termination?  And 
as  the  tie  of  reciprocity  gets  looser,  is  it  not 
a  very  possible  thing,  that  the  murmurs  of 
something  like  unfair  or  unhandsome  con- 
duct should  get  louder  ?  And  that  a  fellow- 


ship, hitherto  carried  forward  in  smiles, 
should  break  up  in  reproaches?  And  that 
the  whole  character  of  this  fellowship  should 
show  itself  more  unequivocally  as  it  comes 
nearer  to  its  close  ?  And  that  some  of  its 
members,  as  they  are  becoming  disengaged 
from  the  bond  of  mutual  interest,  should 
also  become  disengaged  from  the  bond  of 
those  mutual  delicacies  and  proprieties,  and 
even  honesties,  which  had  heretofore  mark- 
ed the  whole  of  their  intercourse? — Inso- 
much, that  a  matter  in  which  all  the  parties 
looked  so  fair,  and  magnanimous,  and  libe- 
ral, might  at  length  degenerate  into  a  con- 
test of  keen  appropriation,  a  scramble  of 
downright  and  undisguised  selfishness? 

But  though  this  may  happen  sometimes, 
we  are  far  from  saying  that  it  will  hap- 
pen generally.  It  could  not,  in  fact,  with- 
out such  an  exposure  of  character,  as  might 
not  merely  bring  a  man  down  in  the  esti- 
mation of  those  from  whom  he  is  now  with- 
drawing himself,  but  also  in  the  estimation 
of  that  general  public,  with  whom  he  is  still 
linked;  and  on  whose  opinion  of  him  there 
still  rests  the  dependence  of  a  strong  per- 
sonal interest.  To  estimate  precisely  the 
whole  influence  of  this  consideration,  or  the 
degree  in  which  honesly  of  character  is  re- 
solvable into  selfishness  of  character,  it 
would  be  necessary  to  suppose,  that  the  tie 
of  reciprocity  was  dissolved,  not  merely  be- 
tween the  individual  and  those  with  whom 
he  had  been  more  particularly  and  more 
intimately  associated — but  that  the  tie  of 
reciprocity  was  dissolved  between  the  in- 
dividual and  the  whole  of  his  former  ac- 
quaintanceship in  business. 

Now,  the  situation  which  comes  nearest 
to  this,  is  that  of  a  man  on  the  eve  of  bank- 
ruptcy, and  with  no  sure  hope  of  so  retriev- 
ing his  circumstances  as  again  to  emerge 
into  credit,  and  be  restored  to  some  em- 
ployment of  gain  or  of  confidence.  If  he 
have  either  honourable  or  religious  feel- 
ings, then  character,  as  connected  with 
principle,  may  still,  in  his  eyes,  be  some- 
thing; but  character,  as  connected  with 
prudence,  or  the  calculations  of  interest, 
may  now  be  nothing.  In  the  dark  hour 
of  the  desperation  of  his  soul,  he  may  feel, 
in  fact,  that  he  has  nothing  to  lose  :  and  let 
us  now  see  how  he  will  conduct  himself, 
when  thus  released  from  that  check  of  re- 
putation which  formerly  held  him.  In 
these  circumstances,  if  you  have  ever  seen 
the  man  abandon  himself  to  utter  regard- 
lessness  of  all  the  honesties  which  at  one 
time  adorned  him,  and  doing  such  disgrace- 
ful things  as  he  would  have  spurned  at  the 
very  suggestion  of,  in  the  days  of  his  pros- 
perity ;  and,  forgetful  of  his  former  name 
practising  all  possible  shifts  of  duplicity  to 
prolong  the  credit  of  a  tottering  establish- 
ment; and  to  keep  himself  afloat  for  a  few 
months  of  torture  and  restlessness,  weaving 


III.] 


INFLUENCE  OF  SELFISHNESS  ON  MERCANTILE  INTERCOURSE. 


1. 


such  a  web»  of  entanglement  around  his 
many  friends  and  companions,  as  shall 
most  surely  implicate  some  of  them  in  his 
fall;  and,  as  the  crisis  approaches,  plying 
his  petty  wiles  how  to  survive  the  coming 
ruin,  and  to  gather  up  of  its  fragments  to 
his  family.  0  !  how  much  is  there  here  to 
deplore  ;  and  who  can  be  so  ungenerous  as 
to  stalk  in  unrelenting  triumph  over  the 
helplessness  of  so  sad  an  overthrow !  But 
if  ever  such  an  exhibition  meet  your  eye, 
while  we  ask  you  not  to  withhold  your  pity 
from  the  unfortunate,  we  ask  you  also  to 
read  in  it  a  lesson  of  worthless  and  sunken 
humanity ;  how  even  its  very  virtues  are 
tinctured  with  corruption;  and  that  the 
honour,  and  the  truth,  and  the  equity,  with 
which  man  proudly  thinks  his  nature  to  be 
embellished,  are  often  reared  on  the  basis 
of  selfishness,  and  lie  prostrate  in  the  dust 
when  that  basis  is  cut  away. 

But  other  instances  may  be  quoted,  which 
go  still  more  satisfactorily  to  prove  the  very 
extended  influence  of  selfishness  on  the 
moral  judgments  of  our  species  ;  and  how 
readily  the  estimate,  which  a  man  forms  on 
the  question  of  right  and  wrong,  accommo- 
dates itself  to  his  own  interest.  There  is  a 
strong  general  reciprocity  of  advantage  be- 
tween the  government  of  a  country  and 
all  its  inhabitants.  The  one  party,  in  this 
relation,  renders  a  revenue  for  the  expenses 
of  the  state.  The  other  party  renders  back 
again  protection  from  injustice  and  vio- 
lence. Were  the  means  furnished  by  the 
former  withheld,  the  benefit  conferred  by 
the  latter  would  cease  to  be  administered. 
So  that,  with  the  government,  and  the  pub- 
lic at  large,  nothing  can  be  more  strict,  and 
more  indispensable,  than  the  tie  of  reciproci- 
ty that  is  between  them.  But  this  is  not 
felt,  and  therefore  not  acted  upon  by  the 
separate  individuals  who  compose  that  pub- 
lic. The  reciprocity  does  not  come  home 
with  a  sufficiently  pointed  and  personal  ap- 
plication to  each  of  them.  Every  man  may 
calculate,  that  though  he,  on  the  strength 
of  some  dexterous  evasions,  were  to  keep 
back  of  the  tribute  that  is  due  by  him,  the 
mischief  that  would  recoil  upon  himself  is 
divided  with  the  rest  of  his  countrymen  ; 
and  the  portion  of  it  which  comes  to  his 
door  would  be  so  very  small,  as  to  be  alto- 
geth(  r  insensible.  To  all  feeling  lie  will 
just  be  as  effectually  sheltered,  by  the  pow- 
er and  the  justice  of  his  country,  whether 
he  pay  his  taxes  in  full,  or  under  the  guise 
of  some  skilful  concealment,  pay  them  but 
partially;  and  therefore,  to  every  practical 
effect,  the  tie  of  reciprocity,  between  him 
and  his  sovereign,  is  in  a  great  measure  dis- 
solved. Now,  what  is  the  actual  adjust- 
ment of  the  moral  sense,  and  moral  conduct, 
of  the  population,  to  this  state  of  matters? 
It  is  quite  palpable.  Subterfuges,  which  in 
private  business,  would  be  held  to  be  dis- 


graceful, are  not  held  to  be  so  disgraceful  in 
this  department  of  a  man's  personal  transac- 
tions. The  cry  of  indignation,  which  would 
be  lifted  up  against  the  falsehood  or  disho- 
nesty of  a  man's  dealings  in  his  own  neigh- 
bourhood, is  mitigated  or  unheard,  though,  in 
his  dealings  with  the  state,  there  should  be 
the  very  same  relaxation  of  principle.  On 
this  subject,  there  is  a  convenience  of  popu- 
lar feeling,  which,  if  extended  to  the  whole 
of  human  traffic,  would  banish  all  its  secu- 
rities from  the  world.  Giving  reason  to 
believe,  that  much  of  the  good  done  among 
men,  is  done  on  the  expectation  of  a  good 
that  will  be  rendered  back  again  ;  and  that 
many  of  the  virtues,  by  which  the  fellow- 
ship of  human  beings  is  regulated  and  sus- 
tained, still  leave  the"  imputation  unredeem- 
ed, of  its  being  a  fellowship  of  sinners ;  and 
that  both  the  practice  of  morality,  and  the 
demand  for  it,  are  measured  by  the  opera- 
tion of  a  self-love,  which,  so  far  from  signal- 
izing any  man,  or  preparing  him  for  eter- 
nity, he  holds  in  common  with  the  fiercest 
and  most  degenerate  of  his  species;  and 
that,  apart  from  the  consideration  of  his 
own  interest,  simplicity  and  godly  since- 
rity are,  to  a  great  degree,  unknown  ;  inso- 
much, that  though  God  has  interposed  with 
a  law,  of  giving  unto  all  their  dues,  and 
tribute  to  whom  tribute  is  due— we  may 
venture  an  affirmation  of  the  vast  majority 
of  this  tribute,  that  it  is  rendered  for  wrath's 
sake,  and  not  for  conscience's  sake.  Of  so 
little  effect  is  unsupported  and  solitary  con- 
science to  stem  the  tide  of  selfishness.  And 
it  is  chiefly  when  honesty  and  truth  go  over- 
bearingly along  with  this  tide,  that  the 
voice  of  man  is  lifted  up  to  acknowledge 
them,  and  Ins  heart  becomes  feelingly  alive 
to  a  sense  of  their  obligations. 

And  let  us  here  just  ask,  in  what  relation 
of  criminality  does  he  who  uses  a  contra- 
band article  stand  to  him  who  deals  in  it? 
In  precisely  the  same  relation  that  a  re- 
ceiver of  stolen  goods  stands  to  a  thief  or  a 
depredator.  There  may  be  some  who  re- 
volt at  the  idea  of  being  so  classified.  But, 
if  the  habit  we  have  just  denounced  can  be 
fastened  on  men  of  rank  and  seemly  repu- 
tation, let  us  just  humble  ourselves  into  the 
admission  of  how  little  the  righteous  prac- 
tice of  the  world  has  the  foundation  of  righ- 
teous principle  to  sustain  it  ;  how  feeble  are 
the  securities  of  rectitude,  had.  it  nothing  to 
uphold  it.  but  its  own  native  charms,  and 
native  obligations;  how  society  is  held  to- 
gether, only  because  the  grace  of  God  can 
turn  to  account  the  worthless  propensities 
of  the  individuals  who  compose  it;  and 
how,  if  the  virtues  of  fidelity,  and  truth,  and 
justice,  had  not  the  prop  of  selfishness  to 
rest  upon,  they  would,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  scattered  remnants,  take  their  de- 
parture from  the  world,  and  leave  it  a  prey 
to  the  anarchy  of  the  human  passions— to 


136 


INFLUENCE  OF  SELFISHNESS  ON  MERCANTILE  INTERCOURSE. 


[disc. 


the  wild  misrule  of  all  those  depravities 
which  agitate  and  deform  our  ruined  na- 
ture. 

The  very  same  exhibition  of  our  nature 
may  be  witnessed  in  almost  every  parish  of 
our  sister  kingdom,  where  the  people  ren- 
der a  revenue  to  the  minister  of  religion, 
and  the  minister  renders  back  again  a  re- 
turn, it  is  true — but  not  such  a  return,  as,  in 
the  estimation  of  gross  and  ordinary  selfish- 
ness, is  at  all  deemed  an  equivalent  for  the 
sacrifice  which  has  been  made.     In  this  in- 
stance, too,  that  law  of  reciprocity  which 
reigns  throughout  the  common  transactions 
of  merchandise,  is  altogether   suspended  ; 
and   the  consequence  is,  that  the  law  of 
right  is  trampled  into  ashes.     A  tide  of  pub- 
lic odium  runs  against  the  men  who  are 
outraged  of  their  property,  and  a  smile  of 
general  connivance  rewards  the  successful 
dexterity  of  the  men  who  invade  it.     That 
portion  of  the  annual  produce  of  our  soil, 
which,  on  a  foundation  of  legitimacy  as 
firm  as  the  property  of  the  soil  itself,  is  al- 
lotted to  a  set  of  national  functionaries — 
and  which,  but  for  them,  would  all  have 
gone,  in  the  shape  of  increased  revenue,  to 
the  indolent  proprietor,  is  altogether  thrown 
loose  from  the  guardianship  of  that  great 
principle  of  reciprocity,  on  which  we  strong- 
ly suspect  that  the  honesties  of  this  world 
are  mainly  supported.    The  national  clergy 
of  England  may  be  considered  as  standing 
out  of  the  pale  of  this  guardianship ;  and 
the  consequence  is,  that  what  is  most  right- 
fully and  most  sacredly  theirs,  is  abandoned 
to  the  gambol  of  many  thousand  depreda- 
tors ;  and  in  addition  to  a  load  of  most  un- 
merited obloquy,  have  they  had  to  sustain 
all  the  heartburnings  of  known  and  felt  in- 
justice ;  and  that  intercourse  between  the 
teachers  and  the  taught,  which  ought  surely 
to  be  an  intercourse  of  peace,  and  friend- 
ship, and  righteousness,  is   turned   into  a 
contest  between  the  natural  avarice  of  the 
one  party,  and  the  natural  resentments  of 
the  other.     It  is  not  that  we  wish  our  sister 
church  were  swept  away,  for  we  honestly 
think,  that  the  overthrow  of  that  establish- 
ment would  be  a  severe  blow  to  the  Chris- 
tianity of  our  land.     It  is  not  that  we  envy 
that  great  hierarchy  the  splendor  of  her  en- 
dowments— for  better  a   dinner  of  herbs, 
when  surrounded  by  theloveof  parishioners, 
than  a  preferment  of  stalled  dignity,  and 
strife  therewith.     It  is  not  either  that  we 
look  upon  her  ministers  as  having  at  all 
disgraced   themselves    by   their  rapacity ; 
for  look  to  the  amount  of  the  encroach- 
ments that  are  made  upon  them,  and  you 
will  see  that  they  have  carried  their  privi- 
leges with  the  most  exemplary  forbearance 
and  moderation.     But  from  these  very  en- 
croachments do  we  infer  how  lawless  a  hu- 
man being  will  become,  when  emancipated 
from  the  bond  of  his  own  interest;  how 


much  such  a  state  of  things  must  multiply 
the  temptations  to  injustice  over  the  face 
of  the  country;  and  how  desirable,  there- 
fore, that  it  were  put  an  end  to — not  by  the 
abolition  of  that  venerable  church,  but  by  a 
fair  and  liberal  commutation  of  the  reve- 
nues which  support  her — not  by  bringing 
any  blight  on  the  property  of  her  ecclesias- 
tics, but  by  the  removal  of  a  most  devour- 
ing blight  from  the  worth  of  her  popula- 
tion— that  every  provocative  to  justice  may 
be  done  away,  and  the  frailty  of  human 
principle  be  no  longer  left  to  such  a  ruinous 
and  such  a  withering  exposure. 

This  instance  we  would  not  have  men- 
tioned, but  for  the  sake  of  adding  another 
experimental  proof  to  the  lesson  of  our  text ; 
and  we  now  hasten  onward  to  the  lesson 
itself,  with  a  few  of  its  applications. 

We  trust  you  are  convinced,  from  what 
has  been  said,  that  much  of  the  actual  ho- 
nesty of  the  world  is  due  to  the  selfishness 
of  the  world.  And  then  you  will  surely 
admit,  that  in  as  far  as  this  is  the  actuating 
principle,  honesty  descends  from  its  place 
as  a  rewardable,  or  even  as  an  amiable  vir- 
tue, and  sinks  down  into  the  character  of  a 
mere  prudential  virtue — which,  so  far  from 
conferring  any  moral  exaltation  on  him  by 
whom  it  is  exemplified,  emanates  out  of  a 
propensity  that  seems  inseparable  from  the 
constitution  of  every  sentient  being — and  by 
which  man  is,  in  one  point,  assimilated 
either  to  the  most  worthless  of  his  own  spe- 
cies, or  to  those  inferior  animals  among 
whom  worth  is  unattainable. 

And  let  it  not  deafen  the  humbling  im- 
pression of  this  argument,  that  you  are  not 
distinctly  conscious  of  the  operation  of  sel- 
fishness, as  presiding  at  every  step  over  the 
honesty  of  your  daily  and  familiar  transac- 
tions ;  and  that  the  only  inward  checks 
against  injustice,  of  which  you  are  sensible, 
are  the  aversion  of  a  generous  indisnancy 
towards  it,  and  the  positive  discomfort  you 
would  incur  by  the  reproaches  of  your  own 
conscience.  Selfishness,  in  fact,  may  have 
originated  and  alimented  the  whole  of  this 
virtue  that  belongs  to  you,  and  yet  the  mind 
incur  the  same  discomfort  by  the  violation 
of  it,  that  it  would  do  by  the  violation  of 
any  other  of  its  established  habits.  And  as 
to  the  generous  indignancy  of  your  feelings 
against  all  that  is  fraudulently  and  disgrace- 
fully wrong,  let  us  never  forget,  that  this 
may  be  the  nurtured  fruit  of  that  common 
selfishness  which  links  human  beings  with 
each  other  into  a  relationship  of  mutual  de- 
pendence. This  may  be  seen,  in  all  its 
perfection,  among  the  leagued  and  sworn 
banditti  of  the  highway;  who,  while  exe- 
crated by  society  at  large  for  the  compact 
of  iniquity  into  which  they  have  entered, 
can  maintain  the  most  heroic  fidelity  to  the 
virtues  of  their  own  brotherhood — and  be, 
in  every  way,  as  lofty  and  as  chivalricwith 


INFLUENCE  OF  SELFISHNESS  ON  MERCANTILE  INTERCOURSE. 


137 


their  points  of  honour,  as  we  are  with  ours ; 
and  elevate  as  indignant  a  voice  against  the 
worthlcssness  of  him  who  could  betray  the 
secret  of  their  association,  or  break  up  any 
of  the  securities  by  which  it  was  held  to- 
gether. And,  in  like  manner,  may  we  be 
the  members  of  a  wider  combination,  yet 
brought  together  by  the  tie  of  reciprocal  in- 
terest ;  and  all  the  virtues  essential  to  the 
existence,  or  to  the  good  of  such  a  combi- 
nation, may  come  to  be  idolized  amongst 
us ;  and  the  breath  of  human  applause  may 
fan  them  into  a  lustre  of  splendid  estima- 
tion; and  yet  the  good  man  of  society  on 
earth  be,  in  common  with  all  his  fellows,  an 
utter  outcast  from  the  society  of  heaven — 
with  his  heart  altogether  bereft  of  that  alle- 
giance to  God  which  forms  the  reigning 
principle  of  his  unfallen  creation — and  in  a 
state  of  entire  destitution  either  as  to  that 
love  of  the  Supreme  Being,  or  as  to  that 
disinterested  love  of  those  around  us,  which 
form  the  graces  and  the  virtues  of  eternity. 
We  have  not  affirmed  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  a  native  and  disinterested 
principle  of  honour  among  men.  But  we 
have  affirmed,  on  a  former  occasion,  that  a 
sense  of  honour  may  be  in  the  heart,  and 
the  sense  of  God  be  utterly  away  from  it. 
And  we  affirm  now,  that  much  of  the  ho- 
nest practice  of  the  world  is  not  due  to  ho- 
nesty of  principle  at  all,  but  takes  its  origin 
from  a  baser  ingredient  of  our  constitution 
altogether.  How  wide  is  the  operation  of 
selfishness  on  the  one  hand,  and  how  limit- 
id  is  the  operation  of  abstract  principle  on 
the  other,  it  were  difficult  to  determine ; 
and  such  a  labyrinth  to  man  is  his  own 
heart,  that  he  may  be  utterly  unable,  from 
his  own  consciousness,  to  answer  this  ques- 
tion. But  amid  all  the  difficulties  of  such 
an  analysis  to  himself,  we  ask  him  to  think 
of  another  who  is  unseen  by  us,  but  who  is 
represented  to  us  as  seeing  all  things.  We 
know  not  in  what  characters  this  heavenly 
witness  can  he  more  impressively  set  forth, 
than  as  pondering  the  heart,  as  weighing 
the  secrets  of  the  heart,  as  fastening  an  at- 
tentive and  a  judging  eye  on  all  the  move- 
ments of  it.  as  treasuring  up  the  whole  of 
man's  outward  and  inward  history  in  a 
book  of  remembrance;  and  as  keeping  it 
in  reserve  for  that  day  when,  it  is  said,  that 
the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  laid  open  ; 
and  <;<>i!  shrill  bring  out  every  secret  thing, 
whether  it,  be  good,  or  whether  it  be  evil. 
Your  consciousness  may  not  distinctly  in- 
form you,  in  how  far  the  integrity  of  your 
habits  is  due  to  the  latent  operation  of  sel- 
fishness, or  to  the  more  direct  and  obvious 
operation  of  honour.  But  your  conscious- 
ness may,  perhaps,  inform  you  distinctly 
enough,  how  little  a  share  the  will  of  God 
has  in  the  way  of  influence  on  any  of  your 
doings.  Your  own  sense  and  memory  of 
what  passes  within  you,  may  charge  you 
18 


with  the  truth  of  this  monstrous  indictment 
— that  you  live  without  God  in  the  world ; 
that  however  you  may  be  signalized  among 
your  fellows,  by  that  worth  of  character 
which  is  held  in  highest  value  and  demand 
amongst  the  individuals  of  a  mercantile  so- 
ciety, it  is  at  least  without  the  influence  of 
a  godly  principle  that  you  have  reached  the 
maturity  of  an  established  reputation;  that 
either  the  proud  emotions  of  rectitude  which 
glow  within  your  bosom  are  totally  untinc- 
tured  by  a  feeling  of  homage  to  the  Deity — 
or  that,  without  any  such  emotions,  Self  is 
the  divinity  you  have  all  along  worshipped, 
and  your  very  virtues  are  so  many  offer- 
ings of  reverence  at  her  shrine,  if  such 
be,  in  fact,  the  nakedness  of  your  spiritual 
condition,  is  it  not  high  time,  we  ask,  that 
you  awaken  out  of  this  delusion,  and  shake 
the  lying  spirit  of  deep  and  heavy  slumber 
away  from  you  ?  Is  it  not  high  time,  when 
eternity  is  so  fast  coming  on,  that  you  ex- 
amine your  accounts  with  God,  and  seek 
for  a  settlement  with  that  Being  who  will 
so  soon  meet  your  disembodied  spirits  with 
the  question  of — what  have  you  done  unto 
me? — And  if  all  the  virtues  which  adorn 
you  are  but  the  subserviences  of  time,  and 
of  its  accommodation — if  either  done  alto- 
gether unto  yourselves,  or  done  without  the 
recognition  of  God  on  the  spontaneous  in- 
stigation of  your  own  feelings— is  it  not 
high  time  that  you  lean  no  longer  to  the 
securities  on  which  you  have  rested,  and 
that  you  seek  for  acceptance  with  your  Ma- 
ker on  a  more  firm  and  unalterable  foun- 
dation ? 

This,  then,  is  the  terminating  object  of 
all  the  experience  that  we  have  tried  to  set 
before  you.  We  want  to  be  a  schoolmas- 
ter to  bring  you  unto  Christ.  We  want 
you  to  open  your  eyes  to  the  accord ancy 
which  obtains  between  the  theology  of  the 
New  Testament  and  the  actual  state  and 
history  of  man.  Above  all,  we  want  you 
to  turn  your  eyes  inwardly  upon  your- 
selves, and  there  to  behold  a  character 
without  one  trace  or  lineament  of  godli- 
ness— there  to  behold  a  heart  set  upon  to- 
tally other  things  than  these  which  consti- 
tute the  portion  and  the  reward  of  eternity 
— there  to  behold  every  principle  of  action 
resolvable  into  the  idolatry  of  self,  or,  at 
least  into  something  independent  of  the  au- 
thority of  God— thereto  behold  how  worth- 
less in  their  substance  are  those  virtues 
which  look  so  imposing  in  th<  ir  semblance 
and  their  display,  and  draw  round  them 
here  a  popularity  and  an  applause  which 
will  all  be  dissipated  into  nothing,  when 
hereafter  they  are  brought  up  for  examina- 
tion to  the  judgment  seat.  We  want  you, 
when  the  revelation  of  the  gospel  charges 
you  with  the  totality  and  magnitude  of 
your  corruption,  that  you  acquiesce  in  that 
charge ;  and  that  you  may  p<  rceive  the 


i: 


INFLUENCE  OF  SELFISHNESS  ON  MERCANTILE  INTERCOURSE.  [DISC. 


trueness  of  it,  under  the  disguise  of  all 
those  hollow  and  unsubstantial  accomplish- 
ments, with  which  nature  may  deck  her 
own  fallen  and  degenerate  children.  It  is 
easy  to  be  amused,  and  interested,  and  in- 
tellectually regaled  by  an  analysis  of  the 
human  character,  and  a  survey  of  human 
society.  But  it  is  not  so  easy  to  reach  the 
individual  conscience  with  the  lesson — we 
are  undone.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  strike  the 
alarm  into  your  hearts  of  the  present  guilt, 
and  the  future  damnation.  It  is  not  so  easy 
to  send  the  pointed  arrow  of  conviction 
into  youi  bosoms,  where  it  may  keep  by 
you  and  pursue  you  like  an  arrow  sticking 
fast ;  or  so  to  humble  you  into  the  conclu- 
sion, that  in  the  sight  of  God,  you  are  an 
accursed  thing,  as  that  you  may  seek  unto 
him  who  became  a  curse  for  you,  and  as 
that  the  preaching  of  his  Cross  might  cease 
to  be  foolishness. 

Be  assured,  then,  if  you  keep  by  the 
ground  of  being  justified  by  your  present 
works,  you  will  perish :  and  though  we 
may  not  have  succeeded  in  convincing  you 
of  their  worthlessness,  be  assured  that  a 
day  is  coming  when  such  a  flaw  of  deceit- 
fulness,  in  the  principle  of  them  all,  shall 
be  laid  open,  as  will  demonstrate  the  equity 
of  your  entire  and  everlasting  condemna- 
tion. To  avert  the  fearfulness  of  that  day 
is  the  message  of  the  great  atonement 
sounded  in  your  ears — and  the  blood  of 
Christ,  cleansing  from  all  sin,  is  offered  to 
your  acceptance;  and  if  you  turn  away 
from  it,  you  add  to  the  guilt  of  a  broken 
law  the  insult  of  a  neglected  gospel.  But 
if  you  take  the  pardon  of  the  gospel  on  the 
footing  of  the  gospel,  then,  such  is  the  effi- 
cacy of  this  great  expedient,  that  it  will 
reach  an  application  of  mercy  farther  than 
the  eye  of  your  own  conscience  ever  reach- 
ed ;  that  it  will  redeem  you  from  the  guilt 
even  of  your  most  secret  and  unsuspected 
iniquities ;  and  thoroughly  wash  you  from 
a  taint  of  sinfulness,  more  inveterate  than, 
in  the  blindness  of  nature,  you  ever  thought 
of,  or  ever  conceived  to  belong  to  you. 

But  when  a  man  becomes  a  believer, 
there  are  two  great  events  which  lake 
place  at  this  great  turning  point  in  his  his- 
tory. One  of  them  takes  place  in  heaven 
— even  the  expunging  of  his  name  from  the 
book  of  condemnation.  Another  of  them 
takes  place  on  earth — even  the  application 
of  such  a  sanctifying  influence  to  his  per- 
son, that  all  old  things  are  done  away  with 
him,  and  all  things  become  new  with  him. 
He  is  made  the  workmanship  of  God  in 
Christ  Jesus  our  Lord.     He  is  not  merely 


forgiven  the  sin  of  every  one  evil  work  of 
which  he  had  aforetime  been    guilty,  but 
he  is  created  anew  unto  the  corresponding 
good  work.     And  therefore,  if  a  Christian, 
will  his  honesty  be  purified  from  that  taint 
of  selfishness  by  which  the  general  honesty 
of  this  world  is  so  deeply  and  extensively 
pervaded.     He  will  not  do  this  good  thing, 
that  any  good    thing   may  be  done  unto 
him  again.     He  will  do  it  on  a  simple  re- 
gard  to  its  own  native  and  independent 
rectitude.     He  will  do  it  because  it  is  ho- 
nourable, and  because  God  wills  him  so  to 
adorn  the  doctrine  of  his  Saviour.     All  his 
fair  dealing,  and  all  his  friendship,  will  be 
fair  dealing  and  friendship  without  interest. 
The  principle  that  is  in  him  will  stand  in 
no  need  of  aid  from  any  such  auxiliary — 
but    strong   in    its   own    unborrowed   re- 
sources, will  it  impress  a  legible  stamp  of 
dignity  and  uprightness  on  the  whole  va- 
riety of  his  transactions  in  the  world.     All 
men  find  it  their  advantage,  by  the  integrity 
of  their  dealings,  to  prolong  the  existence 
of  some  gainful  fellowship  into  which  they 
may  have   entered.      But    with   him,   the 
same  unsullied   integrity  which   kept  this 
fellowship  together,  and  sustained  the  pro- 
gress of   it,  will  abide  with  him  through 
its  last  transactions,    and  dignify  its   full 
and    final    termination.     Most    men    find, 
that,  without  the  reverberation  of  any  mis- 
chief on  their  own  heads,  they  could  re- 
duce beneath   the  point   of  absolute   jus- 
tice, the  charges  of  taxation.     But  he  has 
a  conscience  both  towards   God,  and   to- 
wards man,  which  will  not  let  him;  and 
there  is  a  rigid  truth  in  all  his  returns,  a 
pointed  and  precise  accuracy  in  all  his  pay- 
ments.    When   hemmed   in  with  circum- 
stances of  difficulty,  and  evidently  tottering 
to  his  fall,  the  demand  of  nature  is,  that 
he  should  ply  his  every  artifice  to  secrete 
a  provision  for  his  family.     But  a  Chris- 
tian mind  is  incapable  of  artifice  ;  and  the 
voice  of  conscience  within  him  will  ever 
be  louder  than  the  voice  of  necessity ;  and 
he  will  be  open  as  day  with  his  creditors, 
nor  put  forth  his  hand  to  that  which  is 
rightfully  theirs,  any  more  than  he  would 
put  forth  his  hand  to  the  perpetration  of  a 
sacrilege;  and  though  released   altogether 
from  that  tie  of  interest  which  binds  a  man 
to  equity  with  his  fellows,  yet  the  tie  of 
principle  will  remain  with  him    in  all  its 
strength.     Nor  will  it  ever  be  found  that 
he,  for  the  sake  of  subsistence,  will  enter 
into  fraud,  seeing  that,  as  one  of  the  chil- 
dren of  light,  he  would  not,  to  gain  the 
whole  world,  lose  his  own  soul- 


iv.l 


ESTIMATION  OF  THE  GUILT  OF  DISHONESTY. 


133 


DISCOURSE  IV. 

The  Guilt  of  Dishonesty  not  to  be  estimated  by  the  Gain  of  it. 

"  He  that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  is  faithful  also  in  much ;  and  he  that  is  unjust  in  the  least,  is  unjust 

also  in  much." — Luke  xvi.  10. 


It  is  the  fine  poetical  conception  of  a  late 
poetical  countryman,  whose  fancy  too  often 
grovelled  among  the  despicable  of  human 
character — but  who,  at  the  same  time,  was 
capable  of  exhibiting,  either  in  pleasing  or 
in  proud  array,  both  the  tender  and  the 
noble  of  human  character — when  he  says 
of  the  man  who  carried  a  native,  unborrow- 
ed, self-sustained  rectitude  in  his  bosom, 
that  "his  eye,  even  turned  on  empty  space, 
beamed  keen  with  honour."  It  was  affirm- 
ed, in  the  last  discourse,  that  much  of  the  ho- 
nourable practice  of  the  world  rested  on  the 
substratum  of  selfishness;  that  society  was 
held  together  in  the  exercise  of  its  relative 
virtues,  mainly,  by  the  tie  of  reciprocal  ad- 
vantage ;  that  a  man's  own  interest  bound 
him  to  all  those  average  equities  which  ob- 
tained in  the  neighbourhood  around  him; 
and  in  which,  if  he  proved  himself  to  be 
glaringly  deficient,  he  would  be  abandoned 
by  the  respect,  and  the  confidence,  and  the 
good  will  of  the  people  with  whom  he  had 
to  do.  It  is  a  melancholy  thought,  how 
little  the  semblance  of  virtue  upon  earth 
betokens  the  real  and  substantial  presence 
of  virtuous  principle  among  men.  But  on 
the  other  hand,  though  it  be  a  rare,  there 
cannot  be  a  more  dignified  attitude  of  the 
soul,  than  when  of  itself  it  kindles  with  a 
sense  of  justice,  and  the  holy  flame  is  fed, 
as  it  were,  by  its  own  energies;  than 
when  in  m  moves  onwards  in  an  unchang- 
ing  course  of  moral  magnanimity,  and  dis- 
dains the  aid  of  those  inferior  principles, 
by  which  gross  and  sordid  humanity  is 
kept  from  all  the  grosser  violations;  than 
when  lie  rejoices  in  truth  as  his  kindred 
and  congenial  element; — so,  that  though 
unpeopled  of  all  its  terrestrial  accompani- 
ments;  though  he  saw  no  interest  what- 
ever to  be  associated  with  its  fulfilment; 
though  without  one  prospect  either  of 
fame  or  of  emolument  before  him,  would 
his  eye,  even  when  turned  on  emptiness 
itself,  still  retain  the  living  lustre  that  had 
been  lighted  up  in  it,  by  a  feeling  of  inward 
and  independent  reverence. 

It  has  alrea  ly  been  observed,  and  that 
fully  ami  frequently  enough,  that  a  great 
pari  of  the  homage  which  is  rendered  to 
integrity  in  the  world,  is  due  to  the  opera- 
tion of  selfishness.  And  this  substantially 
is  the  reason,  why  the  principle  of  the  text 
has  so  very  slender  a  hold  upon  the  human 
conscience.  Man  is  ever  prone  to  estimate 
the  enormity  of  injustice,  by  the  degree  in 


which  he  suffers  from  it.  He  brings  this 
moral  question  to  the  standard  of  his  own 
interest.  A  master  will  bear  with  all  the 
lesser  liberties  of  his  servants,  so  long  as  he 
feels  them  to  be  harmless ;  and  it  is  not  till 
he  is  awakened  to  the  apprehension  of  per- 
sonal injury,  from  the  amount  or  frequency 
of  the  embezzlements,  that  his  moral  indig- 
nation is  at  all  sensibly  awakened.  And 
thus  it  is,  that  the  maxim  of  our  great 
teacher  of  righteousness  seems  to  be  very 
much  unfelt,  or  forgotten,  in  society.  Un- 
faithfulness in  that  which  is  little,  and  un- 
faithfulness in  that  which  is  much,  are  very 
far  from  being  regarded,  as  they  were  by 
him,  under  the  same  aspect  of  criminality. 
If  there  be  no  great  hurt,  it  is  felt  that  there 
is  no  great  harm.  The  innocence  of  a  dis- 
honest freedom  in  respect  of  morality,  is 
rated  by  its  insignificance  in  respect  of  mat- 
ter. The  margin  which  separates  the  right 
from  the  wrong,  is  remorselessly  t  rodden  un- 
der foot,  so  long  as  each  makes  only  a  mi- 
nute and  gentle  encroachment  beyond  the 
landmark  of  his  neighbour's  territory.  On 
this  subject  there  is  a  loose  and  popular  es- 
timate, which  is  not  at  one  with  the  deliver- 
ance of  the  New  Testament;  a  habit  of 
petty  invasion  on  the  side  of  aggressors, 
which  is  scarcely  felt  by  them  to  be  at  all 
iniquitous — and  even  on  the  part  of  those 
who  are  thus  made  free  with,  there  is  a 
habit  of  loose  and  careless  toleration. 
There  is,  in  fact,  a  negligence  or  a  dor- 
mancy of  principle  among  men,  which 
causes  this  sort  of  injustice  to  be  easily 
practised  on  the  one  side,  and  as  easily  put 
up  with  on  the  other;  and,  in  a  general 
slackness  of  observation,  is  this  virtue,  in 
its  strictness  and  in  its  delicacy,  completely 
overborne. 

It  is  the  taint  of  selfishness,  then,  which 
has  so  marred  and  corrupted  the  moral 
sensibility  of  our  world ;  and  the  man,  if 
such  a  man  can  be.  whose  "eye,  even  turned 
On  empty  space,  beams  keen  with  honour;" 
and  whose  homage,  therefore,  to  the  virtue 
of  justice,  is  altogether  freed  from  the  mix- 
ture of  unworthy  and  interested  feelings, 
will  long  to  render  to  her,  in  every  instance, 
a  faultless  and  a  completed  offering.  What- 
ever his  forbearance  to  others,  he  could  not 
suffer  the  slightest  blot  of  corruption  upon 
any  doings  of  his  own.  He  cannot  be  sa- 
tisfied with  any  thing  short  of  the  very  last 
jot  and  tittle  of  the  requirements  of  equity 
being  fulfilled.     He  not  merely  shares  in 


140 


ESTIMATION  OF  THE  GUILT  OF  DISHONESTY. 


[DISC. 


the  revolt  of  the  general  world  against  such 
outrageous  departures  from  the  rule  of 
right,  as  would  carry  in  their  train  the  ruin 
of  acquaintances  or  the  distress  of  families. 
Such  is  the  delicacy  of  the  principle  within 
him,  that  he  could  not  have  peace  under 
the  consciousness  even  of  the  minutest  and 
least  discoverable  violation.  He  looks  fully 
and  fearlessly  at  the  whole  account  which 
justice  has  against  him;  and  he  cannot 
rest,  so  long  as  there  is  a  single  article  un- 
met, or  a  single  demand  unsatisfied.  If,  in 
any  transaction  of  his  there  was  so  much 
as  a  farthing  of  secret  and  injurious  reser- 
vation on  his  side,  this  would  be  to  him 
like  an  accursed  thing,  which  marred  the 
character  of  the  whole  proceeding,  and 
spread  over  it  such  an  aspect  of  evil,  as  to 
offend  and  to  disturb  him.  He  could  not 
bear  the  whisperings  of  his  own  heart,  if  it 
told  him,  that,  in  so  much  as  by  one  iota 
of  defect,  he  had  balanced  the  matter  un- 
fairly between  himself  and  the  unconscious 
individual  with  whom  he  deals.  It  would 
lie  a  burden  upon  his  mind  to  hurt  and  to 
make  him  unhappy,  till  the  opportunity  of 
explanation  had  come  round,  and  he  had 
obtained  ease  to  his  conscience,  by  acquit- 
ting himself  to  the  full  of  all  his  obligations. 
It  is  justice  in  the  uprightness  of  her  atti- 
tude :  it  is  justice  in  the  onwardness  of  her 
path  ;  it  is  justice  disdaining  every  advan- 
tage that  would  tempt  her,  by  ever  so  little 
to  the  right  or  to  the  left ;  it  is  justice  spurn- 
ing the  littleness  of  each  paltry  enticement 
away  from  her,  and  maintaining  herself, 
without  deviation,  in  a  track  so  purely  rec- 
tilinear, that  even  the  most  jealous  and  mi- 
croscopic eye  could  not  find  in  it  the  slight- 
est aberration :  this  is  the  justice  set  forth 
by  our  great  moral  Teacher  in  the  passage 
now  submitted  to  you ;  and  by  which  we 
are  told,  that  this  virtue  refuses  fellowship 
with  every  degree  of  iniquity  that  is  per- 
ceptible ;  and  that,  were  the  very  least  act  of 
unfaithfulness  admitted,  she  would  feel  as  if 
in  hex  sanctity  she  had  been  violated,  as  if 
in  her  character  she  had  sustained  an  over- 
throw. 

In  the  further  prosecution  of  this  dis- 
course, let  us  first  attempt  to  elucidate  the 
principle  of  our  text,  and  then  urge  onward 
to  its  practical  consequences — both  as  it  re- 
spects our  general  relation  to  God,  and  as 
it  respects  the  particular  lesson  of  faithful- 
ness that  may  be  educed  from  it. 

I.  The  great  principle  of  the  text  is,  that 
he  who  has  sinned  though  to  a  small  amount 
in  respect  of  the  fruit  of  his  transgression — 
provided  he  has  done  so,  by  passing  over  a 
forbidden  limit  which  was  distinctly  known 
to  him,  has  in  the  act  of  doing  so,  incurred 
a  full  condemnation  in  respect  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  his  transgression.  In  one  word, 
that  the  gain  of  it  may  be  small,  while  the 
guilt  of  it  may  be  great;  that  the  latter 


ought  not  to  be  measured  by  the  former ; 
but  that  he  who  is  unfaithful  in  the  least, 
shall  be  dealt  with  in  respect  of  the  offence 
he  has  given  to  God,  in  the  same  way  as 
if  he  had  been  unfaithful  in  much. 

The  first  reason,  which  we  would  assign 
in  vindication  of  this  is,  that  by  a  small  act 
of  injustice,  the  line  which  separates  the 
right  from  the  wrong  is  just  as  effectually 
broken  over  as  by  a  great  act  of  injustice. 
There  is  a  tendency  in  gross  and  corporeal 
man  to  rate  the  criminality  of  injustice  by 
the  amount  of  its  appropriations — to  reduce 
it  to  a  computation  of  weight  and  measure — 
to  count  the  man  who  has  gained  a  double 
sum  by  his  dishonesty,  to  be  doubly  more 
dishonest  than  his  neighbour — to  make  it 
an  affair  of  product  rather  than  of  princi- 
ple ;  and  thus  to  weigh  the  morality  o)  a 
character  in  the  same  arithmetical  balance 
with  number  or  with  magnitude.  Now, 
this  is  not  the  rule  of  calculation  on  which 
our  Saviour  has  proceeded  in  the  text.  He 
speaks  to  the  man  who  is  only  half  an  inch 
within  the  limit  of  forbidden  ground,  in  the 
very  same  terms  by  which  he  addresses  the 
man  who  has  made  the  furthest  and  the 
largest  incursions  upon  it.  It  is  true,  that 
he  is  only  a  little  way  upon  the  wrong  side 
of  the  line  of  demarcation.  But  why  is  he 
upon  it  at  all  ?  It  was  in  the  act  of  cross- 
ing that  line,  and  not  in  the  act  of  going 
onwards  after  he  had  crossed  it— it  was 
then  that  the  contest  between  right  and 
wrong  was  entered  upon,  and  then  it  was 
decided.  That  was  the  instant  of  time  at 
which  principle  struck  her  surrender.  The 
great  pull  which  the  man  had  to  make,  was 
in  the  act  of  overleaping  the  fence  of  sepa- 
ration ;  and  after  that  was  done,  justice  had 
no  other  barrier  by  which  to  obstruct  his 
progress  over  the  whole  extent  of  the  field 
which  she  had  interdicted.  There  might 
be  barriers  of  a  different  description.  There 
might  be  still  a  revolting  of  humanity 
against  the  sufferings  that  would  be  inflicted 
by  an  act  of  larger  fraud  or  depredation. 
There  might  be  a  dread  of  exposure,  if  the 
dishonesty  should  so  swell,  in  point  of 
amount,  as  to  become  ni'U'e  noticeable. 
There  might,  after  the  absolute  limit  be- 
tween justice  and  injustice  is  broken,  be  an- 
other limit  against  the  extending  of  a  man's 
encroachments,  in  a  terror  of  discovery, 
or  in  a  sense  of  interest,  or  even  in  the  re- 
lentings  of  a  kindly  or  a  compunctious  feel- 
ing towards  him  who  is  the  victim  of  in- 
justice. But  this  is  not  the  limit  witli 
which  the  question  of  a  man's  truth,  or  a 
man's  honesty,  has  to  do.  These  have  al- 
ready been  given  up.  He  may  only  be  a 
little  way  within  the  margin  of  the  unlaw- 
ful territory,  but  still  he  is  upon  it ;  and  the 
God  Who  finds  him  there  will  reckon  with 
him,  and  deal  with  him  accordingly.  Other 
principles  and  other  considerations,  may 


ivl 


ESTIMATION  OF  THE  GUILT  OF  DISHONESTY. 


141 


restrain  his  progress  to  the  very  heart  of 
the  territory,  but  justice  is  not  one  of  them. 
This  he  deliberately  flung  away  from  him, 
at  that  moment  when  he  passed  the  line  of 
eimiinvallation  ;  and,  though  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  that  line,  he  may  hover  all  his 
days  at  the  petty  work  of  picking  and  pur- 
loining such  fragments  as  lie  meets  with, 
though  lie  may  never  venture  himself  to  a 
place  of  more  daring  or  distinguished  atro- 
city, God  sees  of  him,  that,  in  respect  of  the 
principle  of  justice,  at  least,  there  is  an  utter 
unhingement.  And  thus  it  is  that  the  Sa- 
viour, who  knew  what  was  iti  man,  and  who, 
therefore,  knew  all  the  springs  of  that  mo- 
ral machinery  by  which  he  is  actuated, 
pronounces  of  him  who  was  unfaithful  in 
the  least,  that  he  was  unfaithful  also  in 
much. 

After  the  transition  is  accomplished,  the 
progress  will  follow  of  course,  just  as  op- 
portunity invites,  and  just  as  circumstances 
make  it  safe  and  practicable.  For  it  is  not 
with  justice  as  it  is  with  generosity,  and 
some  of  the  other  virtues.  There  is  not 
the  same  graduation  in  the  former  as  there 
is  in  the  latter.  The  man  who,  other  cir- 
cumstances being  equal,  gives  away  a  dou- 
ble sum  in  charity,  may,  with  more  pro- 
priety be  reckoned  doubly  more  generous 
than  his  neighbour;  than  the  man  who, 
with  the  same  equality  of  circumstances, 
only  ventures  on  half  the  extent  of  fraudu- 
lency,  can  be  reckoned  only  one  half  as 
unjust  as  his  neighbour.  Each  has  broken 
a  clear  line  of  demarcation.  Each  has  trans- 
gressed a  distinct  and  visible  limit  which  he 
knew  to  be  forbidden.  Each  has  knowingly 
forced  a  passage  beyond  his  neighbour's 
land-mark — and  that  is  the  place  where 
justice  has  laid  the  main  force  of  her  inter- 
dict. As  it  respects  the  materiel  of  injus- 
tice, the  question  revolves  itself  into  a  mere 
computation  of  quantity.  As  it  respects 
the  morale  of  injustice,  the  computation  is 
upon  other  principles.  It  is  upon  the  latter 
that  our  Saviour  pronounces  himself.  And 
he  gives  us  to  understand,  that  a  very  hum- 
ble degree  of  the  former  may  indicate  the 
latter  in  all  its  atrocity.  He  stands  on  the 
breach  between  the  lawful  and  the  unlaw- 
ful ;  and  he  tells  us,  that  the  man  who  en- 
ters by  a  single  footstep  on  the  forbidden 
ground,  immediately  gathers  upon  his  per- 
son the  full  hue  and  character  of  guiltiness. 
lie  admits  no  extenuation  of  the  lesser  acts 
of  dishonesty.  lie  does  not  make  right 
pass  into  wrong,  by  a  gradual  melting  of 
the  one  into  the  other.  He  docs  not  thus 
obliterate  the  distinctions  of  morality. 
There  is  no  shading  off  at  the  margin  of 
guilt,  but  a  clear  and  vigorous  delineation. 
It  is  not  by  a  gentle  transition  that  a  man 
steps  over  from  honesty  to  dishonesty. 
There  is  between  them  a  wall  rising  up 
into  heaven ;  and   the  high   authority  of 


heaven  must  be  stormed  ere  one  inch  of 
entrance  can  be  made  into  the  region  of 
iniquity.  The  morality  of  the  Saviour  never 
leads  him  to  gloss  over  the  beginnings  of 
crime.  His  object  ever  is,  as  in  the  text  be- 
fore us,  to  fortify  the  limit,  to  cast  a  ram- 
part of  exclusion  around  the  whole  territory 
of  guilt,  and  to  rear  it  before  the  eye  of 
man  in  such  characters  of  strength  and  sa- 
credness,  as  should  make  them  feel  that  it 
is  impregnable. 

The  second  reason,  why  he  who  is  un- 
faithful in  the  least  has  incurred  the  con- 
demnation of  him  who  is  unfaithful  in  much, 
is,  that  the  littleness  of  the  gain,  so  far  from 
giving  a  littleness  to  the  guilt,  is  in  fact  a 
circumstance  of  aggravation.  There  is  just 
this  difference.  He  who  has  committed  in- 
justice for  the  sake  of  a  less  advantage,  has 
done  it  on  the  impulse  of  a  less  temptation. 
He  has  parted  with  his  honesty  at  an  infe- 
rior price ;  and  this  circumstance  may  go 
so  to  equalize  the  estimate,  as  to  bring  it 
very  much  to  one  with  the  deliverance,  in 
the  text,  of  our  great  Teacher  of  righteous- 
ness. The  limitation  between  good  and 
evil  stood  as  distinctly  before  the  notice  of 
the  small  as  of  the  great  depredator ;  and 
he  has  just  made  as  direct  a  contravention 
to  the  first  reason,  when  he  passed  over 
upon  the  wrong  side  of  it.  And  he  may 
have  made  little  of  gain  by  the  enterprise, 
but  this  does  not  allay  the  guilt  of  it.  Nay, 
by  the  second  reason,  this  may  serve  to  ag- 
gravate the  wrath  of  the  Divinity  against 
him.  It  proves  how  small  the  price  is  which 
he  sets  upon  his  eternity,  and  how  cheaply 
he  can  bargain  the  favour  of  God  away  from 
him,  and  how  low  he  rates  the  good  of  an 
inheritance  with  him,  and  for  what  a  trifle 
he  can  dispose  of  all  interest  in  his  kingdom 
and  in  his  promises.  The  very  circum- 
stance which  gives  to  his  character  a  milder 
transgression  in  the  eyes  of  the  world, 
makes  it  more  odious  in  the  judgment  of 
the  sanctuary.  The  more  paltry  it  is  in 
respect  of  profit,  the  more  profane  it  may 
be  in  respect  of  principle.  It  likens  him 
the  more  to  profane  Esau,  who  sold  his 
birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage.  And  thus 
it  is,  indeed,  most  woful  to  think  of  such 
a  senseless  and  alienated  world  ;  and  how 
heedlessly  the  men  of  it  are  posting  their 
infatuated  way  to  destruction ;  and  how, 
for  as  little  gain  as  might  serve  them  a  day, 
they  are  contracting  as  much  guilt  as  will 
ruin  them  for  ever ;  and  are  profoundly 
asleep  in  the  midst  of  such  designs  and 
such  doings,  as  will  form  the  valid  mate- 
rials of  their  entire  and  everlasting  con- 
demnation. 

It  is  with  argument  such  as  this  that  we 
•would  try  to  strike  conviction  among  a 
very  numerous  class  of  offenders  in  society 
— those  who,  in  the  various  departments 
of  trust,  or  service,  or  agency,  are  ever  prac- 


142 


ESTIMATION  OF  THE  GUILT  OF  DISHONESTY. 


[disc. 


tismg,  in  littles,  at  the  work  of  secret  appro- 
priation— those  whose  hands  are  in  a  state 
of  constant  defilement,  by  the  putting  of 
them  forth  to  that  which  they  ought  to 
touch  not,  and  taste  not,  and  handle  not — 
those  who  silently  number  such  pilferments 
as  can  pass  unnoticed  among  the  perqui- 
sites of  their  office ;  and  who,  by  an  excess 
in  their  charges,  just  so  slight  as  to  escape 
detection — or  by  a  habit  of  purloining,  just 
so  restrained  as  to  elude  discovery,  have 
both  a  conscience  very  much  at  ease  in 
their  own  bosoms,  and  a  credit  very  fair, 
and  very  entire,  among  their  acquaintances 
around  them.  They  grossly  count  upon 
the  smallness  of  their  transgression.  But 
they  are  just  going  in  a  small  way  to  hell. 
They  would  recoil  with  violent  dislike  from 
the  act  of  a  midnight  depredator.  It  is  just 
because  terrors,  and  trials,  and  executions, 
have  thrown  around  it  the  pomp  and  the 
circumstance  of  guilt.  But  at  another  bar, 
and  on  a  day  of  more  dreadful  solemnity, 
their  guilt  will  be  made  to  stand  out  in  its 
essential  characters,  and  their  condemna- 
tion will  be  pronounced  from  the  lips  of 
Him  who  judgeth  righteously.  They  feel 
that  they  have  incurred  no  outrageous  for- 
feiture of  character  among  men,  and  this 
instils  a  treacherous  complacency  into 
their  own  hearts.  But  the  piercing  eye  of 
Him  who  looketh  down  from  heaven  is 
upon  the  reality  of  the  question ;  and  He 
who  ponders  the  secrets  of  every  bosom, 
can  perceive,  that  the  man  who  recoils  only 
from  such  a  degree  of  injustice  as  is  noto- 
rious, may  have  no  justice  whatever  in  his 
character.  He  may  have  a  sense  of  repu- 
tation. He  may  have  the  fear  of  detection 
and  disgrace.  He  may  feel  a  revolt  in  his 
constitution  against  the  magnitude  of  a 
gross  and  glaring  violation.  He  may  even 
share  in  all  the  feelings  and  principles  of 
that  conventional  kind  of  morality  which 
obtains  in  his  neighbourhood.  But,  of  that 
principle  which  is  surrendered  by  the  least 
act  of  unfaithfulness,  he  has  no  share  what- 
ever. He  perceives  no  overawing  sacred- 
ness  in  that  boundary  which  separates  the 
right  from  the  wrong.  If  he  only  keep 
decently  near,  it  is  a  matter  of  indifference 
to  him  whether  he  be  on  this  or  on  that 
side  of  it.  He  can  be  unfaithful  in  that 
which  is  least.  There  may  be  other  prin- 
ciples, and  other  considerations  to  restrain 
him ;  but  certain  it  is,  that  it  is  not  now  the 
principle  of  justice  which  restrains  him  from 
being  unfaithful  in  much. — This  is  given 
up;  and,  through  a  blindness  to  the  great 
and  important  principle  of  our  text,  this 
virtue  may,  in  its  essential  character,  be  as 
good  as  banished  from  the  world.  All  its 
protections  may  be  utterly  overthrown. 
The  line  of  defence  is  effaced  by  which  it 
ought,  to  have  been  firmly  and  scrupulously 
guarded.     The  sign-posts  of   intimation, 


which  ought  to  warn  and  to  scare  away,  are 
planted  along  the  barrier ;  and  when,  in  de- 
fiance to  them,  the  barrier  is  broken,  man 
will  not  be  checked  by  any  sense  of  honesty, 
at  least,  from  expatiating  over  the  whole 
of  the  forbidden  territory.  And  thus  may 
we  gather  from  the  countless  peccadilloes 
which  are  so  current  in  the  various  depart- 
ments of  trade,  and  service,  and  agency— 
from  the  secret  freedoms  in  which  many  do 
indulge,  without  one  remonstrance  from 
their  own  heart — from  the  petty  inroads 
that  are  daily  practised  on  the  confines  of 
justice,  by  which  its  line  of  demarcation  is 
trodden  under  foot,  and  it  has  lost  the  mo- 
ral distinctness,  and  the  moral  charm,  that 
should  have  kept  it  unviolate — from  the  ex- 
ceeding multitude  of  such  offences  as  are 
frivolous  in  respect  of  the  matter  of  them, 
but  most  fearfully  important  in  respect  of 
the  principle  in  which  they  originate — 
from  the  woful  amount  of  that  unseen  and 
unrecorded  guilt  which  escapes  the  cogni- 
zance of  the  human  law,  but  on  the  appli- 
cation of  the  touchstone  in  our  text,  may 
be  made  to  stand  out  in  characters  of  se- 
verest condemnation — from  instances,  too 
numerous  to  repeat,  but  certainly  too  ob- 
vious to  be  missed,  even  by  the  observation 
of  charity,  may  we  gather  the  frailty  of 
human  principle,  and  the  virulence  of  that 
moral  poison,  which  is  now  in  such  full 
circulation  to  taint  and  to  adulterate  the 
character  of  our  species. 

Before  finishing  this  branch  of  our  sub- 
ject, we  may  observe,  that  it  is  with  this,  as 
with  many  other  phenomena  of  the  human 
character,  that  we  are  not  long  in  con- 
templation upon  it,  without  coming  in  sight 
of  that  great  characteristic  of  fallen  man, 
which  meets  and  forces  itself  upon  us  in 
every  view  that  we  take  of  him — even  the 
great  moral  disease  of  ungodliness.  It  is 
at  the  precise  limit  between  the  right  and 
the  wrong  that  the  flaming  sword  of  God's 
law  is  placed.  It  is  there  that  "  Thus  saith 
the  Lord"  presents  itself,  in  legible  charac- 
ters, to  our  view.  It  is  there  where  the  ope- 
ration of  his  commandment  begins ;  and 
not  at  any  of  those  higher  gradations,  where 
a  man's  dishonesty  first  appals  himself  by 
the  chance  of  its  detection,  or  appals  others 
by  the  mischief  and  insecurity  which  it 
brings  upon  social  life.  An  extensive 
fraud  upon  the  revenue,  for  example,  un- 
popular as  this  branch  of  justice  is,  would 
bring  a  man  down  from  his  place  of  emi- 
nence and  credit  in  mercantile  society. 
That  petty  fraud  which  is  associated  with 
so  many  of  those  smaller  payments,  where 
a  lie  in  the  written  acknowledgment  is  both 
given  and  accepted,  as  a  way  of  escape  from 
the  legal  imposition,  circulates  at  large 
among  the  members  of  the  great  trading 
community.  In  the  former,  and  in  all  the 
greater  cases  of  injustice,  there  is  a  human 


IV.] 


ESTIMATION  OF  THE  GUILT  OF  DISHONESTY. 


143 


restraint,  and  a  human  terror,  in  operation. 
There  is  disgrace  and  civil  punishment,  to 
scare  away.  There  are  all  the  sanctions 
of  that  conventional  morality  which  is  sus- 
pended on  the  fear  of  man,  and  the  opinion 
of  man;  and  which,  without  so  much  as 
the  recognition  of  a  God,  would  naturally 
point  its  armour  against  every  outrage  that 
could  sensibly  disturb  the  securities  and  the 
rights  of  human  society.  But  so  long  as 
the  disturbance  is  not  sensible — so  long  as 
the  injustice  keeps  within  the  limits  of 
smallness  and  secrecy — so  long  as  it  is  safe 
for  the  individual  to  practise  it,  and,  borne 
along  on  the  tide  of  general  example  and 
connivance,  he  has  nothing  to  restrain 
him  but  that  distinct  and  inflexible  word  of 
God,  which  proscribes  all  unfaithfulness, 
anil  admits  of  it  in  no  degrees,  and  no  modi- 
fications— then,  let  the  almost  universal 
sleep  of  conscience  attest,  how  little  of  God 
there  is  in  the  virtue  of  this  world ;  and 
how  much  the  peace  and  the  protection  of 
society  are  owing  to  such  moralities,  as 
the  mere  selfishness  of  man  would  lead 
him  to  ordain,  even  in  a  community  of 
atheists. 

II.  Let  us  now  attempt  to  unfold  a  few 
of  the  practical  consequences  that  may  be 
drawn  from  the  principle  of  the  text,  both 
in  respect  to  our  general  relation  with  God, 
and  in  respect  to  the  particular  lesson  of 
faithfulness  which  may  be  educed  from  it. 

1.  There  cannot  be  a  stronger  possible 
illustration  of  our  argument,  than  the  very 
first  act  of  retribution  that  occurred  in  the 
history  of  our  species,  "And  God  said  unto 
Adam,  Of  the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of  good 
and  evil,  thou  shalt  not  eat  of  it.  For  in 
the  day  thou  eatest  thereof,  thou  shalt 
surely  die.  But  the  woman  took  of  the 
fruit  thereof,  and  did  eat,  and  gave  also  unto 
her  husband  with  her,  and  he  did  eat." 

What  is  it  that  invests  the  eating  of  a  soli- 
tary apple  with  a  grandeur  so  momentous? 
How  came  an  action  in  itself  so  minute,  to 
be  the  germ  of  such  mighty  consequences? 
How  are  we  to  understand  that  our  first 
parents,  by  the  doing  of  a  single  instant,  not 
only  brought  death  upon  themselves,  but 
shed  this  big  and  baleful  disaster  over  all 
their  posterity  ?  We  may  not  be  able  to 
answer  all  these  questions,  but  we  may  at 
least  learn,  what  a  thing  of  danger  it  is, 
under  the  government  of  a  holy  and  inflexi- 
ble God,  to  tamper  with  the  limits  of  obe- 
dience. By  the  eating  of  that  apple,  a  clear 
requirement  was  broken,  and  a  distinct 
transition  was  made  from  loyalty  to  rebel- 
lion, and  an  entrance  was  effected  into  the 
region  of  sin — and  thus  did  this  one  act 
serve  like  the  opening  of  a  gate  for  a  torrent 
of  mighty  mischief;  and  if  the  act  itself  was 
a  trifle,  it  just  went  to  aggravate  its  guilt — 
that,  for  such  a  trifle,  the  authority  of  God 
could  be  despised  and  trampled  on.    At  all  i 


events,  his  attribute  of  truth  stood  commit- 
ted to  the  fulfilment  of  the  threatening;  and 
the  very  insignificancy  of  the  deed,  which 
provoked  the  execution  of  it.  gives  a  sub- 
limer character  to  the  certainty  of  the  fulfil- 
ment. We  know  how  much  this  trait,  in 
the  dealings  of  God  with  man,  has  been  the 
jeer  of  infidelity.  But  in  all  this  ridicule, 
there  is  truly  nothing  else  than  the  gross- 
ness  of  materialism.  Had  Adam,  instead  of 
plucking  one  single  apple  from  the  forbid- 
den tree,  been  armed  with  the  power  of  a 
malignant  spirit,  and  spread  a  wanton  havoc 
over  the  face  of  paradise,  and  spoiled  the 
garden  of  its  loveliness,  and  been  able  to  mar 
and  to  deform  the  whole  of  that  terrestrial 
creation  over  which  God  had  so  recently  re- 
joiced— the  punishment  he  sustained  would 
have  looked  to  these  arithmetical  moralists, 
a  more  adequate  return  for  the  offence  of 
which  he  had  been  guilty.  They  cannot 
see  how  the  moral  lesson  rises  in  greatness, 
just  in  proportion  to  the  humility  of  the  ma- 
terial accompaniments — and  how  it  wraps  a 
sublimer  glory  around  the  holiness  of  the 
Godhead — and  how  from  the  transaction, 
such  as  it  is,  the  conclusion  cometh  forth 
more  nakedly,  and,  therefore,  more  impres- 
sively, that  it  is  an  evil  and  a  bitter  thing  to 
sin  against  the  Lawgiver.  God  said,  "Let 
there  be  light,  and  it  was  light ;"  and  it  has 
ever  been  regarded  as  a  sublime  token  of 
the  Deity,  that,  from  an  utterance  so  simple, 
an  accomplishment  so  quick  and  so  mag- 
nificent should  have  followed.  God  said, 
"  That  he  who  eateth  of  the  tree  in  the 
midst  of  the  garden  should  die."  It  appears 
indeed,  but  a  little  thing,  that  one  should 
put  forth  his  hand  to  an  apple  and  taste  of 
it.  But  a  saying  of  God  was  involved  in 
the  matter — and  heaven  and  earth  must  pass 
away,  ere  a  saying  of  his  can  pass  away  ; 
and  so  the  apple  became  decisive  of  the  fate 
of  a  world  ;  and,  out  of  the  very  scantiness 
of  the  occasion,  did  there  emerge  a  sublimer 
display  of  truth  and  of  holiness.  The  be- 
ginning of  the  world  was,  indeed,  the  period 
of  great  manifestations  of  the  Godhead  ;  and 
they  all  seem  to  accord,  in  style  and  cha- 
racter, with  each  other ;  and  in  that  very 
history,  which  has  called  forth  the  profane 
and  unthinking  levity  of  many  a  scorner, 
may  we  behold  as  much  of  the  majesty  of 
principle,  as  in  the  creation  of  light,  we  be- 
hold of  the  majesty  of  power. 

But  this  history  furnishes  the  materials 
of  a  contemplation  still  more  practical.  If, 
for  this  one  offence,  Adam  and  his  posterity 
have  been  so  visited — if  so  rigorously  and 
so  inflexibly  precise  be  the  spirit  of  God's 
administration — if,  under  the  economy  of 
heaven,  sin,  even  in  the  very  humblest  of 
its  exhibitions,  be  the  object  of  an  intoler- 
ance so  jealous  and  so  unrelenting — if  the 
Deity  be  such  as  this  transaction  manifests 
him  to  be,  disdainful  of  fellowship  even  with 


144 


ESTIMATION  OF  THE  GUILT  OF  DISHONESTY. 


[disc. 


the  very  least  iniquity,  and  dreadful  in  the 
certainty  of  all  his  accomplishments  against 
it — if,  for  a  single  transgression,  all  the 
promise  and  all  the  felicity  of  paradise  had 
to  be  broken  up,  and  the  wretched  offen- 
ders had  to  be  turned  abroad  upon  a  world, 
now  changed  by  the  curse  into  a  wilder- 
ness, and  their  secure  and  lovely  home  of 
ionocence  behooved  to  be  abandoned,  and 
to  keep  them  out,  a  naming  sword  had  to 
turn  every  way,  and  guard  their  reaccess  to 
the  bowers  of  immortality — if  sin  be  so  very 
hateful  in  the  eye  of  unspotted  holiness, 
that,  on  its  very  first  act,  and  first  appear- 
ance, the  wonted  communion  between  hea- 
ven and  earth  was  interdicted— if  that  was 
the  time  at  which  God  looked  on  our  spe- 
cies with  an  altered  countenance,  and  one 
deed  of  disobedience  proved  so  terribly  de- 
cisive of  the  fate  and  history  of  a  world — 
what  should  each  individual  amongst  us 
think  of  his  own  danger,  whose  life  has 
been  one  continued  habit  of  disobedience? 
If  we  be  still  in  the  hands  of  that  God  who 
laid  so  fell  a  condemnation  on  this  one 
transgression,  let  us  just  think  of  our  many 
transgressions,  and  that  every  hour  we  live 
multiplies  the  account  of  them ;  and  that, 
however  they  may  vanish  from  our  own 
remembrance,  they  are  still  alive  in  the 
records  of  a  judge  whose  eye  and  whose 
memory  never  fail  him.  Let  us  transfer  the 
lesson  we  have  gotten  of  heaven's  jurispru- 
dence from  the  case  of  our  first  parents  to 
our  own  case.  Let  us  compare  our  lives 
with  the  law  of  God,  and  we  shall  find  that 
our  sins  are  past  reckoning.  Let  us  take 
account  of  the  habitual  posture  of  our  souls, 
as  a  posture  of  dislike  for  the  things  that 
are  above,  and  we  shall  find  that  our 
thoughts  and  our  desires  are  ever  running 
in  one  current  of  sinfulness.  Let  us  just 
make  the  computation  how  often  we  fail  in 
the  bidden  charity,  and  the  bidden  godli- 
ness, and  the  bidden  long  suffering — all  as 
clearly  bidden  as  the  duty  that  was  laid  on 
our  first  parents — and  we  shall  find,  that  we 
are  borne  down  under  a  mountain  of  ini- 
quity; that,  in  the  language  of  the  Psalmist, 
our  transgressions  have  gone  over  our 
heads,  and,  as  a  heavy  burden,  are  too 
heavy  for  us;  and  if  we  be  indeed  under 
the  government  of  Him  who  followed  up 
the  offence  of  the  stolen  apple  by  so  dread- 
ful a  chastisement,  then  is  wrath  gone  out 
unto  the  uttermost  against  every  one  of  us. 
— There  is  something  in  the  history  of  that 
apple  which  might  be  brought  specially  to 
bear  on  the  case  of  those  small  sinners  who 
practise  in  secret  at  the  work  of  their  petty 
depredations.  But  it  also  carries  in  it  a 
great  and  a  universal  moral.  It  tells  us  that 
no  sin  is  small.  It  serves  a  general  purpose 
of  conviction.  It  holds  out  a  most  alarming 
disclosure  of  the  charge  that  is  against  us ; 
and  makes  it  manifest  to  the  conscience  of 


him  who  is  awakened  thereby,  that,  unless 
God  himself  point  out  a  way  of  escape,  we 
are  indeed  most  hopelessly  sunk  in  con- 
demnation. And,  seeing  that  such  wrath 
went  out  from  the  sanctuary  of  this  un- 
changeable God,  on  the  one  offence  of  our 
first  parents,  it  irresistibly  follows,  that  if 
we,  manifold  in  guilt,  take  not  ourselves  to 
his  appointed  way  of  reconciliation — if  we 
refuse  the  overtures  of  Him,  who  then  so 
visited  the  one  offence  through  which  all 
are  dead,  but  is  now  laying  before  us  all 
that  free  gift,  which  is  of  many  offences 
unto  justification — in  other  words,  if  we 
will  not  enter  into  peace  through  the  of- 
fered Mediator,  how  much  greater  must  be 
the  wrath  that  abideth  on  us  ? 

Now,  let  the  sinner  have  his  conscience 
schooled  by  such  a  contemplation,  and 
there  will  be  no  rest  whatever  for  his  soul 
till  he  find  it  in  the  Saviour.  Let  him  only 
learn,  from  the  dealings  of  God  with  the 
first  Adam,  what  a  God  of  holiness  he  him- 
self  has  to  deal  with;  and  let  him  further 
learn,  from  the  history  of  the  second  Adam, 
that  to  manifest  himself  as  a  God  of  love, 
another  righteousness  had  to  be  brought  in, 
in  place  of  that  from  which  man  had  fallen 
so  utterly  away.  There  was  a  faultless 
obedience  rendered  by  Him,  of  whom  it  is 
said,  that  he  fulfilled  all  righteousness. 
There  was  a  magnifying  of  the  law  by  one 
in  human  form,  who  up  to  the  last  jot  and 
tittle  of  it,  acquitted  himself  of  all  its  obli- 
gations. There  was  a  pure,  and  lofty,  and 
undefiled  path,  trodden  by  a  holy  and 
harmless  Being,  who  gave  not  up  his  work 
upon  earth,  till  ere  he  left  it,  he  could  cry 
out,  that  it  was  finished ;  and  so  had 
wrought  out  for  us  a  perfect  righteousness. 
Now,  it  forms  the  most  prominent  annun- 
ciation of  the  New  Testament,  that  the  re- 
ward of  this  righteousness  is  offered  unto 
all — so  that  there  is  not  one  of  us  who  is 
not  put  by  the  gospel  upon  the  alternative 
of  being  either  tried  by  our  own  merits,  or 
treated  according  to  the  merits  of  Him  who 
became  sin  for  us,  though  he  knew  no  sin, 
that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness 
of  God  in  him.  Let  the  sinner  just  look 
unto  himself,  and  look  unto  the  Saviour. 
Let  him  advert  not  to  his  one,  but  to  his 
many  offences ;  and  that,  too,  in  the  sight 
of  a  God,  who,  but  for  one  so  slight  and  so 
insignificant  in  respect  of  the  outward  de- 
scription, as  the  eating  of  a  forbidden  ap- 
ple, threw  off  a  world  into  banishment,  and 
entailed  a  sentence  of  death  upon  all  its 
generations.  Let  him  learn  from  this,  that 
for  sin,  even  in  its  humblest  degrees,  there 
exists  in  the  hosom  of  the  Godhead  no 
toleration;  and  how  shall  he  dare,  with  the 
degree  and  the  frequency  of  his  own  sin, 
to  stand  any  longer  on  a  ground,  where,  if 
he  remain,  the  fierceness  of  a  consuming 
fire  is  so  sure  to  overtake  him?    The  righ 


IV.] 


ESTIMATION  OF  THE  GUILT  OF  DISHONESTY. 


14- 


teousness  of  Christ  is  without  a  flaw,  and 
there  he  is  invited  to  take  shelter.  Under 
the  actual  regimen,  which  God  has  esta- 
blished in  our  world,  it  is  indeed  his  only 
security— his  refuge  from  the  tempest,  and 
hiding  place  from  the  storm.  The  only 
beloved  Son  offers  to  spread  his  own  un- 
spotted garment  as  a  protection  over  him ; 
and,  if  lie  be  rightly  alive  to  the  utter  na- 
kedness of  his  moral  and  spiritual  condition 
he  will  indeed  make  no  tarrying  till  he  be 
found  in  Christ,  and  find  that  in  him  there 
is  no  condemnation. 

Now,  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  those 
principles,  which  shut  a  man  up  unto  the 
faith,  do  not  take  flight  and  abandon  him, 
after  they  have  served  this  temporary  pur- 
pose. They  abide  with  him,  and  work 
their  appropriate  influence  on  his  charac- 
ter, and  serve  as  the  germ  of  a  new  moral 
creation ;  and  we  can  afterwards  detect 
their  operation  in  his  heart  and  life ;  so,  that 
if  they  were  present  at  the  formation  of  a 
saving  belief,  they  are  not  less  unfailingly 
present  with  every  true  Christian,  through- 
out the  whole  of  his  future  history,  as  the 
elements  of  a  renovated  conduct.  If  it  was 
sensibility  to  the  evil  of  sin  which  helped 
to  wean  the  man  from  himself,  and  led  him 
to  his  Saviour,  this  sensibility  does  not  fall 
ip  in  the  bosom  of  an  awakened  sinner, 
after  Christ  has  given  him  light — but  it 
grows  with  the  growth,  and  strengthens 
with  the  strength,  of  his  Christianity.  If, 
at  the  interesting  period  of  his  transition 
from  nature  to  grace,  he  saw,  even  in  the 
very  least  of  his  offences,  a  deadly  provo- 
cation of  the  Lawgiver,  he  does  not  lose 
sight  of  this  consideration  in  his  future  pro- 
gress— nor  does  it  barely  remain  with  him, 
like  one  of  the  unproductive  notions  of  an 
inert  and  unproductive  theory.  It  gives 
rise  to  a  fearful  jealousy  in  his  heart  of  the 
lea<t  appearance  of  evil;  and,  with  every 
man  who  has  undergone  a  genuine  process 
of  conversion,  do  we  behold  the  scrupulous 
avoidance  of  sin,  in  its  most  slender,  as  well 
as  in  its  more  aggravated  forms.  If  it  Was 
the  perfection  of  the  character  of  Christ, 
who  fell  that  it  became  him  to  fulfil  all 
righteousness,  that  offered  him  the  first 
solid  foundation  on  which  he  could  lean — 
then,  the  same  character,  which  first  drew 
his  eye  for  the  purpose  of  confidence,  still 
continues  to  draw  his  eye  for  the  purpose 
of  imitation.  At  the  outset  of  faith,  all  the 
essential  moralities  of  thought,  and  feeling, 
and  conviction,  are  in  play ;  nor  is  there 
any  thing  in  the  progress  of  a  real  faith 
which  is  calculated  to  throw  them  back 
again  into  the  dormancy  out  of  which  they 
had  arisen.  They  break  out,  in  fact,  into 
more  full  and  flourishing  display  on  every 
new  creature,  with  every  new  step,  and  new' 
evolution,  in  his  mental  history.  All  the 
principles  of  the  gospel  serve,  as  it  were,  to 
19 


fan  and  to  perpetuate  his  hostility  against 
sin;  and  all  the  powers  of  the  gospel  enable 
him,  more  and  more,  to  fulfil  the  desires  of 
his  heart,  and  to  carry  his  purposes  of  hos- 
tility into  execution.  In  the  case  of  every 
genuine  believer,  who  walks  not  after  the 
flesh,  but  after  the  spirit,  do  we  behold  a 
fulfilling  of  the  righteousness  of  the  law — a 
strenuous  avoidance  of  sin,  in  its  slightest 
possible  taint  or  modification — a  strenuous 
performance  of  duty,  up  to  the  last  jot  and 
tittle  of  its  exactions — so,  that  let  the  un- 
true professors  of  the  faith  do  what  they 
will  in  the  way  of  antinomianism,  and  let 
the  enemies  of  the  faith  say  what  they  will 
about  our  antinomianism,  the  real  spirit  of 
the  dispensation  under  which  we  live  is 
such,  that  whosoever  shall  break  one  of  the 
least  of  these  commandments,  and  teach 
men  so,  is  accounted  the  least — whosoever 
shall  do  and  teach  them  is  accounted  the 
greatest. 

2.  Let  us,  therefore,  urge  the  spirit  and 
the  practice  of  this  lesson  upon  your  obser- 
vation. The  place  for  the  practice  of  it 
is  the  familiar  and  week-day  scene.  The 
principle  for  the  spirit  of  it  descends  upon 
the  heart,  from  the  sublimest  heights  of 
the  sanctuary  of  God.  It  is  not  vulgarizing 
Christianity  to  bring  it  down  to  the  very 
humblest  occupations  of  human  life.  It  is, 
in  fact,  dignifying  human  life,  by  bringing 
it  up  to  the  level  of  Christianity. 

It  may  look  to  some  a  degradation  of  the 
pulpit,  when  the  household  servant  is  told 
to  make  her  firm  stand  against  the  temp- 
tation of  open  doors,  and  secret  opportuni- 
ties; or  when  the  confidential  agent  is  told 
to  resist  the  slightest  inclination  to  any  un- 
seen freedom  with  the  property  of  his  em- 
ployers, or  to  any  undiscoverable  excess  in 
the  charges  of  his  management ;  or  when 
the  receiver  of  a  humble  payment  is  told, 
that  the  tribute  which  is  due  on  every  writ- 
ten acknowledgment  ought  faithfully  to  be 
met,  and  not  fictitiously  to  be  evaded.  This 
is  not  robbing  religion  of  its  sacredness,  but 
spreading  its  sacredness  over  the  face  of 
society.  It  is  evangelizing  human  life,  by 
impregnating  its  minutest  transactions  with 
the  spirit  of  the  gospel.  It  is  strengthening 
the  wall  of  partition  between  sin  and  obe- 
dience. It  is  the  teacher  of  righteousness 
taking  his  stand  at  the  outpost  of  that  ter- 
ritory which  he  is  appointed  to  defend, 
and  warning  his  hearers  of  the  danger  that 
lies  in  a  single  footstep  of  encroachment.  It 
is  letting  them  know,  that  it  is  in  the  act  of 
stepping  over  the  limit,  that  the  sinner 
throws  the  gauntlet  of  his  defiance  against 
the  authority  of  God.  And  though  lie  may 
deceive  himself  with  the  imagination  that 
his  soul  is  safe,  because  the  gain  of  his  in- 
justice is  small,  such  is  the  God  with  whom 
he  has  to  do,  that,  if  it  be  gain  to  the  value 
of  a  single  apple,  then,  within  the  compass- 


146 


ESTIMATION  OF  THE  GUILT  OF  DISHONESTY. 


[disc. 


of  so  small  an  outward  dimension,  may  as 
much  guilt  be  enclosed  as  that  which  hath 
Drought  death  into  our  world,  and  carried  it 
down  in  a  descending  ruin  upon  all  its 
generations. 

It  may  appear  a  very  little  thing,  when 
you  are  told  to  be  honest  in  little  matters; 
when  the  servant  is  told  to  keep  her  hand 
from  every  one  article  about  which  there  is 
not  an  express  or  understood  allowance  on 
the  part  of  her  superiors;  when  the  dealer 
is  told  to  lop  off  the  excesses  of  that  minuter 
fraudulency,  which  is  so  currently  prac- 
tised in  the  humble  walks  of  merchandise; 
when  the  workman  is  told  to  abstain  from 
those  petty  reservations  of  the  material  of 
his  work,  for  which  he  is  said  to  have  such 
snug  and  ample  opportunity ;  and  when, 
without  pronouncing  on  the  actual  extent 
of  these  transgressions,  all  are  told  to  be 
faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  else,  if  there 
be  truth  in  our  text,  they  incur  the  guilt  of 
being  unfaithful  in  much.  It  may  be  thought, 
that  because  such  dishonesties  as  these  are 
scarcely  noticeable,  they  are  therefore  not 
worthy  of  notice.  But  it  is  just  in  the  pro- 
portion of  their  being  unnoticeable  by  the 
human  eye,  that  it  is  religious  to  refrain 
from  them.  These  are  the  cases  in  which  it 
will  be  seen,  whether  the  controul  of  the 
omniscience  of  God  makes  up  for  the  con- 
troul of  human  observation — in  which  the 
sentiment,  that  thou  God  seest  me,  should 
carry  a  preponderance  through  all  the  secret 
places  of  a  man's  history — in  which,  when 
every  earthly  check  of  an  earthly  morality 
is  withdrawn,  it  should  be  felt,  that  the  eye 
of  God  is  upon  him,  and  that  the  judgment 
of  God  is  in  reserve  for  him.  To  him  who 
is  gifted  with  a  true  discernment  of  these 
matters,  will  it  appear,  that  often,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  smallness  of  the  doings,  is  the 
sacredness  of  that  principle  which  causes 
them  to  be  done  with  integrity ;  that  honesty, 
in  little  transactions,  bears  upon  it  more  of 
the  aspect  of  holiness,  than  honesty  in  great 
ones ;  that  the  man  of  deepest  sensibility  to 
the  obligations  of  the  law,  is  he  who  feels 
the  quickening  of  moral  alarm  at  its  slightest 
violations;  that,  in  the  morality  of  grains 
and  of  scruples,  there  may  be  a  greater  ten- 
derness of  conscience,  and  a  more  heaven- 
bom  sanctity,  than  in  that  larger  morality 
which  flashes  broadly  and  observably  upon 
the  world ; — and  that  thus,  in  the  faithful- 
ness of  the  household  maid,  or  of  the  ap- 
prentice boy,  there  may  be  the  presence  of 
a  truer  principle  than  there  is  in  the  more 
conspicuous  transactions  of  human  business 
— what  they  do,  being  done,  not  with  eye- 
service— what  they  do,  being  done  unto  the 
Lord. 

And  here  we  may  remark,  that  nobleness 
of  condition  is  not  essential  as  a  school  for 
nobleness  of  character ;  nor  does  man  require 
to  be  high  in  office,  ere  he  can  gather  around 


his  person  the  worth  and  the  lustre  of  a  high 
minded  integrity.  It  is  delightful  to  think, 
that  humble  life  may  be  just  as  rich  in  moral 
grace,  and  moral  grandeur,  as  the  loftier 
places  of  society ;  that  as  true  a  dignity  of 
principle  may  be  earned  by  him  who  in 
homeliest  drudgery,  plies  his  conscientious 
task,  as  by  him  who  stands  entrusted  with 
the  fortunes  of  an  empire ;  that  the  poorest 
menial  in  the  land,  who  can  lift  a  hand  un- 
soiled  by  the  pilferments  that  are  within  his 
reach,  may  have  achieved  a  victory  over 
temptation,  to  the  full  as  honourable  as  the 
proudest  patriot  can  boast,  who  has  spurned 
the  bribery  of  courts  away  from  him.  It  is 
cheering  to  know,  from  the  heavenly  jud^e 
himself,  that  he  who  is  faithful  in  the  least,  is 
faithful  also  in  much  ;  and  that  thus,  among 
the  labours  of  the  field  and  of  the  work-shop, 
it  is  possible  for  the  peasant  to  be  as  bright 
in  honour  as  the  peer,  and  have  the  chivalry 
of  as  much  truth  and  virtue  to  adorn  him. 

And,  as  this  lesson  is  not  little  in  respect 
of  principle,  so  neither  is  it  little  in  respect 
of  influence  on  the  order  and  well-being  of 
human  society.  He  who  is  unjust  in  the 
least,  is,  in  respect  of  guilt,  unjust  also  in 
much.  And  to  reverse  this  proposition,  as  it 
is  done  in  the  first  clause  of  our  text — he 
who  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  is,  in 
respect  both  of  righteous  principle  and  of 
actual  observation,  faithful  also  in  much. 
Who  is  the  man  tQ  whom  I  would  most 
readily  confide  the  whole  of  my  property  ? 
He  who  would  most  disdain  to  put  forth  an 
injurious  hand  on  a  single  farthing  of  it. 
Who  is  the  man  from  whom  I  would  have 
the  least  dread  of  any  unrighteous  encroach- 
ment 1  He,  all  the  delicacies  of  whose  prin- 
ciple are  awakened,  when  he  comes  within 
sight  of  the  limit  which  separates  the  region 
of  justice  from  the  region  of  injustice.  Who 
is  the  man  whom  we  shall  never  find  among 
the  greater  degrees  of  iniquity  ?  He  who 
shrinks  with  sacred  abhorrence  from  the 
lesser  degrees  of  it.  It  is  a  true,  though  a 
homely  maxim  of  economy,  that  if  we  take 
care  of  our  small  sums,  our  great  sums  will 
take  care  of  themselves.  And,  to  pass  from 
our  own  things  to  the  things  of  others,  it  is 
no  less  true,  that  if  principle  should  lead  us 
all  to  maintain  the  care  of  strictest  honesty 
over  our  neighbour's  pennies,  then  will  his 
pounds  lie  secure  from  the  grasp  of  injustice, 
behind  the  barrier  of  a  moral  impossibility. 
This  lesson,  if  carried  into  effect  among  you, 
would  so  strengthen  all  the  ramparts  of  se- 
curity between  man  and  man,  as  to  make 
them  utterly  impassable;  and  therefore, 
while,  in  the  matter  of  it,  it  may  look,  in 
one  view,  as  one  of  the  least  of  the  com- 
mandments, it,  in  regard  both  of  principle 
and  effect,  is,  in  another  view  of  it,  one  ol 
the  greatest  of  the  commandments.  And  we 
therefore  conclude  with  assuring  you,  that 
nothing  will  spread  the  principle  of  this 


ON  THE  GREAT  CHRISTIAN  LAW  OF  RECIPROCITY  BETWEEN  MEN. 


IV  J 

commandment  to  any  great  extent  through- 
out the  mass  of  society,  but  the  principle  of 
godliness.  Nothing  will  secure  the  general 
observation  of  justice  amongst  us,  in  its 
punctuality  and  in  its  preciseness,  but  such 
a  precise  Christianity  as  many  affirm  to  be 
puritanical.  In  other  words,  the  virtues  of 
society,  to  be  kept -in  a  healthful  and  pros- 
perous condition,  must  be  upheld  by  the 
virtues  of  the  sanctuary.  Human  law  may 
restrain  many  of  the  grosser  violations.  But 
without  religion  among  the  people,  justice 
will  never  be  in  extensive  operation  as  a 
moral  principle.  A  vast  proportion  of  the 
species  will  be  as  unjust  as  the  vigilance  and 
the  severities  of  law  allow  them  to  be.  A 
thousand  petty  dishonesties,  which  never 


147 


will,  and  never  can  be  brought  within  the 
cognizance  of  any  of  our  courts  of  adminis- 
tration, will  still  continue  to  derange  the 
business  of  human  life,  and  to  stir  up  all  the 
heartburnings  of  suspicion  and  resentment 
among  the  members  of  human  society.  And 
it  is,  indeed,  a  triumphant  reversion  await- 
ing the  Christianity  of  the  New  Testament, 
when  it  shall  become  manifest  as  day,  that 
it  is  her  doctrine  alone,  which,  by  its  search- 
ing and  sanctifying  influence,  can  so  moral- 
ize our  world — as  that  each  may  sleep  secure 
in  the  lap  of  his  neighbour's  integrity,  and 
charm  of  confidence,  between  man  and  man, 
will  at  length  be  felt  in  the  business  of 
every  town,  and  in  the  bosom  of  every 
family. 


DISCOURSE  V. 

On  the  great  Christian  Law  of  Reciprocity  between  Man  and  Man, 

u  Therefore  all  things  whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them :  for  this  is 
the  law  and  the  prophets." — Matthew  vii.  12. 


There  are  two  great  classes  in  human 
society,  between  whom  there  lie  certain 
mutual  claims  and  obligations,  which  are 
felt  by  some  to  be  of  very  difficult  adjust- 
ment. There  are  those  who  have  requests 
of  some  kind  or  other  to  make ;  and  there 
are  those  to  whom  the  requests  are  made, 
and  with  whom  there  is  lodged  the  power 
either  to  grant  or  to  refuse  them.  Now,  at 
first  sight,  it  would  appear,  that  the  firm 
exercise  of  this  power  of  refusal  is  the  only 
barrier  by  which  the  latter  class  can  be  se- 
cured against  the  indefinite  encroachments 
)f  the  former ;  and  that,  if  this  were  remov- 
3d,  all  the  safeguards  of  right  and  property 
would  be  removed  along  with  it.  The  power 
of  refusal,  on  the  part  of  those  who  have 
the  right  of  refusal,  may  be  abolished  by  an 
act  of  violence,  on  the  part  of  those  who 
have  it  not ;  and  then,  when  this  happens 
in  individual  cases,  we  have  the  crimes  of 
assault  and  robbery  ;  and  when  it  happens 
on  a  more  extended  scale,  we  have  anarchy 
and  insurrection  in  the  land.  Or  the  power 
of  refusal  may  be  taken  away  by  an  au- 
thoritative precept  of  religion ;  and  then 
might  it  still  be  matter  of  apprehension,  lest 
our  only  defence  against  the  inroads  of 
selfishness  and  injustice  were  as  good  as 
given  up,  and  lest  the  peace  and  interest  of 
families  should  be  laid  open  to  a  most  fearftd 
exposure,  by  the  enactments  of  a  romantic 
and  impracticable  system.  Whenever  this 
is  apprehended,  the  temptation  is  strongly 
felt,  either  to  rid  ourselves  of  the  enactments 
altogether,  or  at  least  to  bring  them  down 


in  nearer  accommodation  to  the  feelings  and 
the  conveniences  of  men. 

And  Christianity,  on  the  very  first  blush 
of  it,  appears  to  be  precisely  such  a  religion. 
It  seems  to  take  away  all  lawfulness  of  re- 
sistance from  the  possessor,  and  to.  invest 
the  demander  with  such  an  extent  of  privi- 
lege, as  would  make  the  two  classes  of  so- 
ciety, to  which  we  have  just  now  adverted, 
speedily  change  places.  And  this  is  the  true 
secret  of  the  many  laborious  deviations  that 
have  been  attempted  in  this  branch  of  mo- 
rality, on  the  obvious  meaning  of  the  New 
Testament.  This  is  the  secret  of  those  many 
qualifying  clauses,  by  which  its  most  lumin- 
ous announcements  have  been  beset,  to  the 
utter  darkening  of  them.  This  it  is  which 
explains  the  many  sad  invasions  that  have 
been  made  on  the  most  manifest  and  un- 
deniable literalities  of  the  law  and  of  the 
testimony.  And  our  present  text,  among 
others,  has  received  its  full  share  of  mutila- 
tion, and  of  what  may  be  called  "  dressing 
up,1'  from  the  hands  of  commentators — it 
having  wakened  the  very  alarms  of  wdiich 
we  have  just  spoken,  and  called  forth  the 
very  attempts  to  quiet  and  to  subdue  them.  • 
Surely,  it  has  been  said,  we  can  never  be 
required  to  do  unto  others  what  they  have 
no  right,  and  no  reason,  to  expect  from  us. 
The  demand  must  not  be  an  extravagant 
one.  It  must  lie  within  the  limits  of  modera- 
tion. It  must  be  such  as,  in  the  estimation 
of  every  justly  thinking  person,  is  counted 
fair  in  the  circumstances  of  the  case.  The 
principle  on  which  our  Saviour,  in  the  text, 


148         ON  THE  GREAT  CHRISTIAN  LAW  OF  RECIPROCITY  BETWEEN  MEN.         [DISC. 


rests  the  obligation  of  doing  any  particular 
thing  to  others,  is,  that  we  wish  others  to 
do  that  thing  unto  us.  But  this  is  too  much 
for  an  affrighted  selfishness;  and,  for  her 
own  protection,  she  would  put  forth  a  de- 
fensive sophistry  upon  the  subject;  and  in 
place  of  that  distinctly  announced  principle, 
on  which  the  Bible  both  directs  and  specifies 
what  the  things  are  which  we  should  do 
unto  others,  does  she  substitute  another 
principle  entirely — which  is,  merely  to  do 
unto  others  such  things  as  are  fair,  and  right, 
and  reasonable. 

Now,  there  is  one  clause  of  this  verse 
which  would  appear  to  lay  a  positive  inter- 
dict on  all  these  qualifications.  How  shall 
we  dispose  of  a  phrase,  so  sweeping  and 
universal  in  its  import,  as  that  of  "  all  things 
whatsoever?"  We  cannot  think  that  such 
an  expression  as  this  was  inserted  for  no- 
thing, by  him  who  has  told  us,  that  "  cursed 
is  every  one  who  taketh  away  from  the 
words  of  this  book."  There  is  no  distinction 
laid  down  between  things  fair,  and  things  un- 
fair— between  things  reasonable,  and  things 
unreasonable.  Both  are  comprehended  in 
the  "  all  things  whatsoever."  The  significa- 
tion is  plain  and  absolute,  that,  let  the  thing 
be  what  it  may,  if  you  wish  others  to  do 
that  thing  for  you,  it  lies  imperatively  upon 
you  to  do  the  very  same  thing  for  them  also. 

But,  at  this  rate,  you  may  think  that  the 
whole  system  of  human  intercourse  would 
go  into  unhingement.  You  may  wish  your 
next-door  neighbour  to  present  you  with 
half  his  fortune.  In  this  case,  we  know  not 
how  you  are  to  escape  from  the  conclusion, 
that  you  are  bound  to  present  him  with  the 
half  of  yours.  Or  you  may  wish  a  relative 
to  burden  himself  with  the  expenses  of  all 
your  family.  It  is  then  impossible  to  save 
you  from  the  positive  obligation,  if  you  are 
equally  able  for  it,  of  doing  the  same- ser- 
vice to  the  family  of  another.  Or  you  may 
wish  to  engross  the  whole  time  of  an  ac- 
quaintance in  personal  attendance  upon 
yourself.  Then,  it  is  just  your  part  to  do  the 
same  extent  of  civility  to  another  who  may 
desire  it.  These  are  only  a  few  specifica- 
tions, out  of  the  manifold  varieties,  whether 
of  service  or  of  donation,  which  are  con- 
ceivable between  one  man  and  another ;  nor 
are  we  awaie  of  any  artifice  of  explanation 
by  which  they  can  possibly  be  detached 
from  the  "all  things  whatsoever"  of  the 
verse  before  us.  These  are  the  literalities 
which  we  are  not  at  liberty  to  compromise 
— but  are  bound  to  urge,  and  that  simply, 
according  to  the  terms  in  which  they  have 
been  conveyed  to  us  by  the  great  Teacher 
of  righteousness.  This  may  raise  a  sensitive 
dread  in  many  a  bosom.  It  may  look  like 
the  opening  of  a  floodgate,  through  which 
a  torrent  of  human  rapacity  would  be  made 
to  set  in  on  the  fair  and  measured  domains 
of  property,  and  by  which  all  the  fences  of 


legality  would  be  overthrown.     It  is  some 
such  fearful  anticipation  as  this  which  causes 
casuistry  to  ply  its  wily  expedients,  and 
busily  to  devise  its  many  limits,  and   its 
many  exceptions,  to  the  morality  of  the 
New  Testament.  And  yet,  we  think  it  pos- 
sible to  demonstrate  of  our  text,  that  no  such 
modifying  is  requisite ;  and  that,  though  ad- 
mitted strictly  and  rigorously  as  the  rule  of 
our  daily  conduct,  it  would  lead  to  no  prac- 
tical conclusions  which  are  at  all  formidable. 
For,  what  is  the  precise  circumstance 
which  lays'  the  obligation  of  this  precept 
upon  you?  There  may  be  other  places  in 
the   Bible  where  you   are  required  to  do 
things  for  the  benefit  of  your  neighbour, 
whether  you  would  wish  your  neighbour  to 
do  these  things  for  your  benefit  or  not.  But 
this  is  not  the  requirement  here.    There  is 
none  other  thing  laid  upon   you   in  this 
place,  than  that  you  should  do  that  good 
action  in  behalf  of  another,  which   you 
would  like  that  other  to  do  in  behalf  of 
yourself.     If  you  would  not  like  him  to  do 
it  for  you,  then  there  is  nothing  in  the  com 
pass  of  this  sentence  now  before  you.  that 
at  all  obligates  you  to  do  it  for  him.     It 
you  would  not  like  your  neighbour  to  make 
so  romantic  a  surrender  to  your  interest,  as 
to  offer  you  to  the  extent  of  half  his  fortune, 
then  there  is  nothing  in  that  part  of  the  gos- 
pel code  which  now  engages  us,  that  ren- 
ders it  imperative  upon  you  to  make  the 
same  offer  to  your  neighbour.  If  you  would 
positively  recoil,  in  all  the  reluctance  of  in- 
genuous delicacy,  from  the  selfishness  of 
laying  on  a  relation  the  burden  of  the  ex- 
penses of  all  your  family,  then  this  is  not 
the  good  office  that  you  would  have  him  to 
do  unto  you  ;  and  this,  therefore,  is  not  the 
good  office  which  the  text  prescribes  you  to 
do  unto  him.     If  you  have  such  considera- 
tion for  another's  ease,  and  another's  con- 
venience, that  you  could  not  take  the  un- 
generous advantage  of  so  much  of  his  time 
for  your  accommodation,   there  may  be 
other  verses  in  the  Bible  which  point  to  a 
greater  sacrifice,  on  your  part,  for  the  good 
of  others,  than  you  would  like  these  others 
to  make  for  yours ;  but,  most  assuredly, 
this  is  not  the  verse  which  imposes  that 
sacrifice.     If  you  would  not  that  others 
should  do  these  things  on  your  account, 
then  these  things  form  no  part  of  the  "  all 
things  whatsoever"  you  would  that  men* 
should  do  unto  you ;  and,  therefore,  they 
form  no  part  of  the  "  all  things  whatsoever" 
that  you  are  required,  by  this  verse,  to  do 
unto  them.     The  bare  circumstance  of  your 
positively  not  wishing  that  any  such  ser- 
vices should  be  rendered  unto  you,  exempts 
you,  as  far  as  the  single  authority  of  this 
precept  is  concerned,  from  the  obligation  of 
rendering  these  services  to  others.    This  is 
the  limitation  to  the  extent  of  those  services 
which  are  called  for  in  the  text ;  and  it  ia 


'•1 


ON  THE  GREAlf  CHRISTIAN  LAW  OF  RECIPROCITY  BETWEEN   MEN. 


149 


surely  better,  that  every  limitation  to  a 
commandment  of  God's,  should  be  defined 
by  God  himself,  than  that  it  should  be 
drawn  from  the  assumptions  of  human  fan- 
cy, or  from  the  fears  and  the  feelings  of 
human  convenience. 

Let  a  man,  in  fact,  give  himself  up  to  a 
strict  and  literal  observance  of  the  precept 
in  this  verse,  and  it  will  impress  a  two-fold 
direction  upon  him.  It  will  not  only  guide 
him  to  certain  performances  of  good  in  be- 
half of  others,  but  it  will  guide  him  to  the 
regulation  of  his  own  desires  of  good  from 
them.  For  his  desires  of  good  from  others 
are  here  set  up  a?  the  measure  of  his  per- 
formances of  good  to  others.  The  more 
selfish  and  unbounded  his  desires  are,  the 
larger  are  those  performances  witli  the  ob- 
ligation of  which  he  is  burdened.  What- 
soever he  would  that  others  should  do  unto 
him,  he  is  bound  to  do  unto  them;  and, 
therefore,  the  more  he  gives  way  to  unge- 
nerous and  extravagant  wishes  of  service 
from  those  who  are  around  him,  the  hea- 
vier and  more  insupportable  is  the  load  of 
duty  which  he  brings  upon  himself. — The 
commandment  is  quite  imperative,  and 
there  is  no  escaping  from  it ;  and  if  he,  by 
the  excess  of  his  selfishness,  should  render 
it  impracticable,  then  the  whole  punishment 
due  to  the  guilt  of  casting  aside  the  autho- 
rity of  this  commandment,  follows  in  that 
train  of  punishment  which  is  annexed  to 
selfishness.  There  is  one  way  of  being  re- 
lieved from  such  a  burden.  There  is  one 
way  of  reducing  this  verse  to  a  moderate 
and  practicable  requirement ;  and  that  is, 
just  to  give  up  selfishness — just  to  stifle  all 
ungenerous  desires — just  to  moderate  every 
wish  of  service  or  liberality  from  others, 
down  to  the  standard  of  what  is  right  and 
equitable;  and  then  there  may  be  other 
verses  in  the  Bible  by  which  we  are  called 
to  be  kind  even  to  the  evil  and  the  unthank- 
ful. But,  most  assuredly,  this  verse  lays 
upon  us  none  other  tiling,  than  that  we 
should  do  such  services  for  others  as  are 
right  and  equitable. 

The  more  extravagant,  then,  a  man's 
wishes  of  accommodation  from  others  are, 
the  wider  is  the  distance  between  him  and 
the  bidden  performances  of  our  text.  The 
separation  of  him  from  his  duty,  increases 
at  the  rate  i  I  ies  receding  from  each 

other  by  equal  and  contrary  movements. 
The  more  selfish  his  desires  of  service  are 
from  others,  the  more  feeble,  on  that  very 
account,  will  be  his  desires  of  making  any 
surrender  of  himself  to  them,  and  yet  the' 
greater  is  the  amount  of  that  surrender 
which  is  due.  The  poor  man,  in  fact,  is 
moving  himself  away  from  the  rule ;  and 
the  rule  is  just  moving  as  fast  away  from 
the  man.  As  he  sinks,  in  the  scale  of  sel- 
fishness, beneath  the  point  of  a  fair  and 
moderate  expectation  from  others,  does  the 


rule  rise,  in  the  scale  of  duty,  with  its  de- 
mands upon  him  ;  and  thus  there  is  render- 
ing to  him  double  for  every  unfair  and  un- 
generous imposition  that  he  would  make 
on  the  kindness  of  those  who  are  around 
him. 

Now,  there  is  one  way,  and  a  very  effec- 
tual one,  of  getting  these  two  ends  to  meet. 
Moderate  your  own  desires  of  service  from 
others,  and  you  will  moderate,  in  the  same 
degree,  all  those  duties  of  service  to  others 
which  are  measured  by  these  desires.  Have 
the  delicacy  to  abstain  from  any  wish  of 
encroachment  on  the  convenience  or  pro- 
perty of  another.  Have  the  high-minded- 
ness  to  be  indebted  for  your  own  support 
to  the  exertions  of  your  own  honourable 
industry,  rather  than  the  dastardly  habit  of 
preying  on  the  simplicity  of  those  around 
you.  Have  such  a  keen  sense  of  equity, 
and  such  a  fine  tone  of  independent  feeling, 
that  you  could  not  bear  to  be  the  cause  of 
hardship  or  distress  to  a  single  human 
creature,  if  you  could  help  it.  Let  the 
same  spirit  be  in  you,  which  the  Apostle 
wanted  to  exemplify  before  the  eye  of  his 
disciples,  when  he  coveted  no  man's  gold, 
or  silver,  or  apparel ;  when  he  laboured  not 
to  be  chargeable  to  any  of  them ;  but 
wrought  with  his  own  hands,  rather  than 
be  burdensome.  Let  this  mind  be  in  you, 
which  was  also  in  the  Apostle,  of  the  Gen- 
tiles ;  and,  then,  the  text  before  us  will  not 
come  near  you  with  a  single  oppressive  or 
impracticable  requirement.  There  may  be 
other  passages,  where  you  are  called  to  go 
beyond  the  strict  line  of  justice,  or  common 
humanity,  in  behalf  of  your  suffering  bre- 
thren. But  this  passage  does  not  touch 
you  with  any  such  preceptive  imposition : 
and  you,  by  moderating  your  wishes  from 
others  down  to  what  is  fair  and  equitable, 
do,  in  fact,  reduce  the  rule  which  binds  you 
to  act  according  to  the  measure  of  these 
wishes,  down  to  a  rule  of  precise  and  unde- 
viating  equity. 

The  operation  is  somewhat,  like  that  of  a 
governor  or  fly,  in  mechanism.  This  is  a 
very  happy  contrivance,  by  which  all  that 
is  defective  or  excessive  in  the  motion,  is 
confined  within  the  limits  of  equability ; 
and  every  tendency,  in  particular,  to  any 
mischievous  acceleration,  is  restrained. 
The  impulse  given  by  this  verse  to  the  con- 
duct of  man  among  his  fellows,  would  seem, 
to  a  superficial  observer,  to  carry  him  to  all 
the  excesses  of  a  most  ruinous  and  quixotic 
benevolence.  But  let  him  only  look  to  the 
skilful  adaptation  of  the  fly.  Just,  suppose 
the  control  of  moderation  and  equity  to  be 
laid  upon  his  own  wishes,  and  there  is  not 
a  single  impulse  given  to  his  conduct  be- 
yond the  rate  of  moderation  and  equity. 
You  are  not  required  here  to  do  all  things 
whatsoever  in  behalf  of  others,  but  to  do  all 
things  whatsoever  for  them,  that  you  would 


150 


ON  THE  GREAT  CHRISTIAN  LAW  OF  RECIPROCITY  BETWEEN  BIEN.       [DISC 


should  be  done  unto  yourself.  This  is  the 
check  by  which  the  whole  of  the  bidden 
movement  is  governed,  and  kept  from  run- 
ing  out  into  any  hurtful  excess.  And  such 
is  the  beautiful  operation  of  that  piece  Of 
moral  mechanism  that  we  are  now  employ- 
ed in  contemplating,  that  while  it  keeps 
down  all  the  aspirations  of  selfishness,  it 
does,  in  fact,  restrain  every  extravagancy, 
and  impress  on  its  obedient  subjects  no 
other  movement,  than  that  of  an  even  and 
inflexible  justice. 

This  rule  of  our  Saviour's,  then,  pre- 
scribes moderation  to  our  desires  of  good 
from  others,  as  well  as  generosity  to  our 
doings  in  behalf  of  others ;  and  makes  the 
first  the  measure  of  obligation  to  the  se- 
cond. It  may  thus  be  seen  how  easily,  in 
a  Christian  society,  the  whole  work  of  be- 
nevolence could  be  adjusted,  so  as  to  render 
it  possible  for  the  givers  not  only  to  meet, 
but  also  to  overpass,  the  wishes  and  expec- 
tations of  the  receivers.  The  rich  man 
may  have  a  heavier  obligation  laid  upon 
him  by  other  precepts  of  the  New-Testa- 
ment ;  but,  by  this  precept,  he  is  not  bound 
to  do  more  for  the  poor  man,  than  what  he 
himself  would  wish,  in  like  circumstances, 
to  be  done  for  him.  And  let  the  poor  man, 
on  the  other  hand,  wish  for  no  more  than 
what  a  Christian  ought  to  wish  for ;  let  him 
work  and  endure  to  the  extent  of  nature's 
sufferance,  rather  than  beg — and  only  beg, 
rather  than  that  he  should  starve  ;  and  in 
such  a  state  of  principle  among  men,  a  tide 
of  beneficence  would  so  go  forth  upon  all 
the  vacant  places  in  society,  as  that  there 
should  be  no  room  to  receive  it.  The  duty 
of  the  rich,  as  connected  with  this  adminis- 
tration, is  of  so  direct  and  positive  a  charac- 
ter, as  to  obtrude  itself  at  once  on  the  notice 
of  the  Christian  moralist.  But  the  poor 
also  have  a  duty  in  it — to  which  we  feel 
ourselves  directed  by  the  train  of  argument 
which  we  have  now  been  prosecuting — and 
a  duty,  too,  we  think,  of  far  greater  impor- 
tance even  than  the  other,  to  the  best  inte- 
rests of  mankind. 

For,  let  us  first  contrast  the  rich  man 
who  is  ungenerous  in  his  doings,  with  the 
poor  man  who  is  ungenerous  in  his  desires ; 
and  see  from  which  of  the  two  it  is,  that 
the  cause  of  charity  receives  the  deadlier 
infliction.  There  is,  it  must  be  admitted, 
an  individual  to  be  met  with  occasionally, 
who  represents  the  former  of  these  two 
characters ;  with  every  affection  gravitating 
to  itself,  and  to  its  sordid  gratifications  and 
interests  ;  bent  on  his  own  pleasure,  or  his 
own  avarice — and  so  engrossed  with  these, 
as  to  have  no  spare  feeling  at  all  for  the 
brethren  of  his  common  nature-,  with  a 
heart  obstinately  shut  against  that  most 
powerful  of  applications,  the  look  of  genuine 
and  imploring  distress — and  whose  very 
countenance  speaks  a  surly  and  determined 


exclusion  on  every  call  that  proceeds  from 
it;  who  in  a  tumult  of  perpetual  alarm 
about  new  cases,  and  new  tales  of  suffering, 
and  new  plans  of  philanthropy,  has  at 
length  learned  to  resist  and  to  resent  every 
one  of  them ;  and,  spurning  the  whole  of 
this  disturbance  impatiently  away,  to  main- 
tain a  firm  defensive  over  the  close  system 
of  his  own  selfish  luxuries,  and  his  own 
snug  accommodations.  Such  a  man  keeps 
back,  it  must  be  allowed,  from  the  cause  of 
charity,  what  he  ought  to  have  rendered  it 
in  his  own  person.  There  is  a  diminution 
of  the  philanthropic  fund  up  to  the  extent 
of  what  benevolence  would  have  awarded 
out  of  his  individual  means,  and  individual 
opportunities.  The  good  cause  is  a  sufferer, 
not  by  any  positive  blow  it  has  sustained, 
but  the  simple  negation  of  one  friendly  and 
fostering  hand,  that  else  might  have  been 
stretched  forth  to  aid  and  patronise  it. 
There  is  only  so  much  less  of  direct  coun- 
tenance and  support  than  would  otherwise 
have  been ;  for,  in  this  our  age,  we  have  no 
conception  whatever  of  such  an  example 
being  at  all  infectious.  For  a  man  to  wal- 
low in  prosperity  himself  and  be  unmindful 
of  the  wretchedness  that  is  around  him,  is 
an  exhibition  of  altogether  so  ungainly  a 
character,  that  it  will  far  oftencr  provoke 
an  observer  to  affront  it  by  the  contrast  of 
his  own  generosity,  than  to  render  it  the 
approving  testimony  of  his  imitation.  So 
that  all  we  have  lost  by  the  man  who  is 
ungenerous  in  his  doings,  is  his  own  con- 
tribution to  the  cause  of  philanthropy.  And 
it  is  a  loss  that  can  be  borne.  The  cause 
of  this  world's  beneficence  can  do  abun- 
dantly without  him.  There  is  a  ground 
that  is  yet  unbroken,  and  there  are  resources 
which  are  still  unexplored,  that  will  yield  a 
far  more  substantial  produce  to  the  good  of 
humanity,  than  he,  and  thousands  as  weal- 
thy as  he,  could  render  to  it  out  of  all  their 
capabilities. 

But  there  is  a  far  wider  mischief  inflicted 
on  the  cause  of  charity,  by  the  poor  man 
who  is  ungenerous  in  his  desires;  by  him, 
whom  every  act  of  kindness  is  sure  to  call 
out  to  the  reaction  of  some  new  demand,  or 
new  expectation ;  by  him,  on  whom  the 
hand  of  a  giver  has  the  effect,  not  of  ap- 
peasing his  wants,  but  of  inflaming  his  ra- 
pacity; by  him  who,  trading  among  the 
sympathies  of  the  credulous,  can  dexterous- 
ly appropriate  for  himself  a  portion  tenfold 
greater  than  what  would  have  blest  and 
brightened  the  aspect  of  many  a  deserving 
family.  Him  we  denounce  as  the  worst 
enemy  of  the  poor.  It  is  he  whose  ravenous 
gripe  wrests  from  them  a  far  more  abun- 
dant benefaction,  than  is  done  by  the  most 
lordly  and  unfeeling  proprietor  in  the  land. 
He  is  the  arch-oppressor  of  his  brethren ; 
and  the  amount  of  the  robbery  which  he 
has  practised  upon  them,  is  not  to  be  esti- 


•3 


ON  THE  GREAT  CHRISTIAN  LAW  OF  RECIPROCITY  BETWEEN  MEN. 


151 


mated  by  the  alms  which  he  has  monopo- 
lized, by  the  food,  or  the  raiment,  or  the 
money,  which  he  has  diverted  to  himself, 
from  the  more  modest  sufferers  around  him, 
he  has  done  what  is  infinitely  worse  than 
turning  aside  the  stream  of  charity.  He 
has  closed  its  floodgates.  He  has  chilled 
and  alienated  the  hearts  of  the  wealthy,  by 
the  gall  of  bitterness  whicii  he  has  infused 
into  this  whole  ministration. 

A  few  such  harpies  would  suffice  to  exile 
a  whole  neighbourhood  from  the  attentions 
of  the  benevolent,  by  the  distrust  and  the 
jealousy  wherewith  they  have  poisoned 
their  bosoms,  and  laid  an  arrest  on  all  the 
sensibilities  that  else  would  have  flowed 
from  them.  It  is  he  who,  ever  on  the 
watch  and  on  the  wing  about  some  enter- 
prize  of  imposture,  makes  it  his  business  to 
work  and  to  prey  on  the  compassionate 
principles  of  our  nature;  it  is  he  who,  in 
i  Sect,  grinds  the  faces  of  the  poor,  and  that, 
with  deadlier  severity  than  even  is  done  by 
the  great  baronial  tyrant,  the  battlements  of 
whose  castle  seem  to  frown,  in  all  the  pride 
of  aristocracy,  on  the  territory  that  is  be- 
fore it.  There  is,  at  all  times,  a  kindliness 
of  feeling  ready  to  stream  forth,  with  a  ten- 
fold greater  liberality  than  ever,  on  the 
humble  orders  of  life  ;  and  it  is  he,  and  such 
as  he,  who  have  congealed  it.  He  has 
raised  a  jaundiced  medium  between  the 
rich  and  the  poor,  in  virtue  of  which,  the 
former  eye  the  latter  with  suspicion ;  and 
there  is  not  a  man  who  wears  the  garb,  and 
prefers  the  applications  of  poverty,  that  has 
not  suffered  from  the  worthless  impostor 
who  has  gone  before  him.  They  are,  in 
fact,  the  deceit,  and  the  indolence,  and  the 
low  sordidnes3  of  a  few  who  have  made 
outcasts  of  the  many,  and  locked  against 
them  the  feelings  of  the  wealthy  in  a  kind 
of  iron  imprisonment.  The  rich  man  who 
is  ungenerous  in  his  doings,  keeps  back  one 
labourer  from  the  field  of  charity.  But  a 
poor  man  who  is  ungenerous  in  his  desires, 
can  i  xpel  a  th- ui-s.md  labourers  in  disgusi 
away  from  it.  lie  sheds  a  cruel  and  ex- 
tended blight  over  the  fair  region  of  phi- 
lanthropy; and  many  have  abandoned  it, 
who,  but  for  him,  would  fondly  have  lin- 
gere  I  thereupon  ;  very  many,  who,  but  for 
v  in  which  their  simplicity  has  been 
tried  an  1  trampled  upon,  would  still  have 
tasted  the  luxury  of  doing  sood  unto  the 
poor,  and  made  it  their  delight,  as  well  as 
their  duty,  to  expend  and  expatiate  among 
their  habitations. 

We  say  not  this  to  exculpate  the  rich; 
for  it  is  their  part  not  to  be  weary  in  well- 
doing, but  to  prosecute  the  work  and  the 
labour  of  love  under  every  discouragement. 
Neither  do  we  say  this  to  the  disparage- 
menl  of  the  poor;  for  the  picture  we  have 
given  is  of  the  few  out  of  the  many;  and 
the  closer  the  acquaintance  with  humble 


life  becomes,  will  it  be  the  more  seen  of 
what  a  high  pitch  of  generosity  even  the 
very  poorest  are  capable.  They,  in  truth, 
though  perhaps  they  are  not  aware  of  it, 
can  contribute  more  to  the  cause  of  charity, 
by  the  moderation  of  their  desires,  than  the 
rich  can  by  the  generosity  of  their  doings. 
They,  without,  it  may  be,  one  penny  to  be- 
stow, might  obtain  a  place  in  the  record  of 
heaven,  as  the  most  liberal  benefactors  of 
their  species.  There  is  nothing  in  the  hum- 
ble condition  of  life  they  occupy,  which 
precludes  them  from  all  that  is  great  or 
graceful  in  human  charity.  There  is  a  way 
in  which  they  may  equal,  and  even  out- 
peer,  the  wealthiest  of  the  land,  in  that  very 
virtue  of  which  wealth  alone  has  been  con- 
ceived to  have  the  exclusive  inheritance. 
There  is  a  pervading  character  in  humanity 
which  the  varieties  of  rank  do  not  oblite- 
rate ;  and  as,  in  virtue  of  the  common  cor- 
ruption, the  poor  man  may  be  as  effectually 
the  rapacious  despoiler  of  his  brethren,  as 
the  man  of  opulence  above  him — so,  there 
is  a  common  excellence  attainable  by  both  ; 
and  through  which,  the  poor  man  may,  to 
the  full,  be  as  splendid  in  generosity  as  the 
rich,  and  yield  a  fir  more  important  contri- 
bution to  the  peace  and  comfort  of  society. 
To  make  this  plain — it  is  in  virtue  of  a 
generous  doing  on  the  part  of  a  rich  man, 
when  a  sum  of  money  is  offered  for  the  re- 
lief of  want;  and  it  is  in  virtue  of  a  gene- 
rous desire  on  the  part  of  a  poor  man,  when 
this  money  is  refused ;  when,  witli  the  feel- 
ing, that  his  necessities  do  not  just  warrant 
him  to  be  yet  a  burden  upon  others,  he  de- 
clines to  touch  the  offered  liberality;  when, 
with  a  delicate  recoil  from  the  unlooked-for 
proposal,  he  still  resolves  to  put  it  for  the 
present  away,  ami  to  find,  if  possible,  for 
himself  a  little  longer;  when,  standing  on 
the  very  margin  of  dependence,  he  would 
yet  like  to  struggle  with  the  difficulties  of 
his  situation,  and  to  maintain  this  severe 
but  honourable  conflict,  till  hard  necessity 
should  force  him  to  surrender.  Let  the  mo- 
ney which  he  has  thus  nobly  shifted  from 
himself  take  some  new  direction  to  another ; 
and  who,  we  ask,  is  the  giver  of  it  ?  The 
first  and  most  obvious  reply  is,  thai  it  is  he 
who  owned  it:  but,  it  is  still  more  empha- 
tically true,  that  it  is  he  who  has  declined 
it.  It  came  originally  out  of  the  rich  man's 
abundance:  but  it  was  the  noble-hearted 
generosity  of  the  poor  man  that  handed  it 
onwards  to  its  final  destination.  He  did 
not  emanate  the  gift ;  but  it  is  just  as  much 
that  he  iias  not  absorbed  it,  but  left  it  to 
find  its  full  conveyance  to  some  neighbour 
poorer  than  himself,  to  some  family  still 
more  friendless  and  destitute  than  his  own. 
It  was  given  the  first  time  out  of  an  over- 
flowing fulness.  It  is  given  the  second  time 
out  of  stinted  and  self-denying  penury.  In 
the  world's  eye,  it  is  the  proprietor  who  be 


132  ON  THE  GREAT  CHRISTIAN  LAW  OF  RECIPROCITY  BETWEEN  MEN.         [DISC. 


stowed  the  charity.  But,  in  heaven's  eye, 
the  poor  man  who  waived  it  away  from 
himself  to  another  is  the  more  illustrious 
philanthropist  of  the  two.  The  one  gave  it 
out  of  his  affluence.  The  other  gave  it  out 
of  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  He  rose  up  early, 
and  sat  up  late,  that  he  might  have  it  to  be- 
stow on  a  poorer  than  himself;  and  without 
once  stretching  forth  a  giver's  hand  to  the 
necessities  of  his  brethren,  still  is  it  possi- 
ble, that  by  him.  and  such  as  him,  may  the 
main  burden  of  this  world's  benevolence  be 
borne. 

It  need  scarcely  be  remarked,  that,  with- 
out supposing  the  offer  of  any  sum  made  to 
a  poor  man  who  is  generous  in  his  desires, 
he,  by  simply  keeping  himself  back  from 
the  distributions  of  charity,  fulfils  all  the 
high  functions  which  we  have  now  ascribed 
to  him.  He  leaves  the  charitable  fund  un- 
touched for  all  that  distress  which  is  more 
clamorous  than  his  own ;  and  we,  therefore, 
look,  not  to  the  original  givers  of  the  mo- 
ney, but  to  those  who  line,  as  it  were,  the 
margin  of  pauperism,  and  yet  firmly  refuse 
to  enter  it — we  look  upon  them  as  the  pre- 
eminent benefactors  of  society,  who  narrow, 
as  it  were,  by  a  wall  of  defence,  the  ground 
of  human  dependence,  and  are,  in  fact,  the 
guides  and  the  guardians  of  all  that  opu- 
lence can  bestow. 

Thus  it  is,  that  when  Christianity  becomes 
universal,  the  doings  of  the  one  party,  and  the 
desires  of  the  other,  will  meet  and  overpass. 
The  poor  will  wish  for  no  more  than  the 
rich  will  be  delighted  to  bestow ;  and  the 
rule  of  our  text,  which  every  real  Christian 
at  present  finds  so  practicable,  will,  when 
carried  over  the  face  of  society,  bind  all  the 
members  of  it  into  one  consenting  brother- 
hood. The  duty  of  doing  good  to  others 
will  then  coalesce  with  that  counterpart 
duty  which  regulates  our  desires  of  good 
from  them ;  and  the  work  of  benevolence 
will,  at  length,  be  prosecuted  without  that 
alloy  of  rapacity  on  the  one  hand,  and  dis- 
trust on  the  other,  which  serves  so  much 
to  fester  and  disturb  the  whole  of  this  minis- 
tration. To  complete  this  adjustment,  it  is 
:n  every  way  as  necessary  to  lay  all  the  in- 
umbent  moralities  on  those  who  ask,  as  on 
those  who  confer;  and  never  till  the  whole 
text,  which  comprehends  the  wishes  of  man 
as  well  as  his  actions,  wield  its  entire  au- 
thority over  the  species,  will  the  disgusts 
and  the  prejudices,  which  form  such  a  bar- 
rier between  the  ranks  of  human  life,  be  ef- 
fectually done  away.  It  is  not  by  the  abo- 
lition of  rank,  but  by  assigning  to  each  rank 
its  duties,  that  peace,  and  friendship,  and 
order,  will  at  length  be  firmly  established 
in  our  world.  It  is  by  the  force  of  princi- 
ple, and  not  by  the  force  of  some  great  po- 
litical overthrow,  that  a  consummation  so 
delightful  is  to  be  attained.  We  have  no 
conception  whatever,  that,  even  in  millennial 


days,  the  diversities  of  wealth  and  station 
will  at  length  be  equalized.  On  looking  for- 
ward to  the  time  when  kings  shall  be  the 
nursing  fathers,  and  queens  the  nursing 
mothers  of  our  church,  we  think  that  we 
can  behold  the  perspective  of  as  varied  a 
distribution  of  place  and  property  as  before. 
In  the  pilgrimage  of  life,  there  will  still  be 
the  moving  procession  of  the  few  charioted 
in  splendour  on  the  highway,  and  the  many 
pacing  by  their  side  along  the  line  of  the 
same  journey.  There  will,  perhaps,  be  a 
somewhat  more  elevated  footpath  for  the 
crowd — there  will  be  an  air  of  greater  com- 
fort and  sufficiency  amongst  them  ;  and  the 
respectability  of  evident  worth  and  guodness 
will  sit  upon  the  countenance  of  this  general 
population.  But,  bating  these,  we  look  for 
no  great  change  in  the  external  aspect  of 
society.  It  will  only  be  a  moral  and  a  spi- 
ritual change.  Kings  will  retain  their  scep- 
tres, and  nobles  their  coronets  ;  but,  as  they 
float  in  magnificence  along,  will  they  look 
with  benignant  feeling  on  the  humble  way- 
farers ;  and  the  honest  salutations  of  regard 
and  reverence  will  arise  to  them  back  again ; 
and,  should  any  weary  passenger  be  ready 
to  sink  unfriended  on  his  career,  will  he,  at 
one  time,  be  borne  onwards  by  his  fellows 
on  the  pathway,  and,  at  another,  will  a 
shower  of  beneficence  be  made  to  descend 
from  the  crested  equipage  that  overtakes 
him.  It  is  Utopianism  to  think,  thai  in  the 
ages  of  our  world  which  are  yet  to  come, 
the  outward  distinctions  of  life  will  not  all 
be  upholden.  But  it  is  not  Utopianism,  it 
is  Prophecy  to  aver,  that  the  breath  of  a 
new  spirit  will  go  abroad  over  the  great  fa- 
mily of  mankind — so,  that  while,  to  the  end 
of  time,  there  shall  be  the  high  and  the  low 
in  every  passing  generation,  will  the  charity 
Of  kindred  feelings,  and  of  a  common  un- 
derstanding, create  a  fellowship  between 
them  on  their  way,  till  they  reach  that  hea- 
ven where  human  love  shall  be  perfected, 
and  all  human  greatness  is  unknown. 

In  various  places  in  the  New  Testament, 
do  we  see  the  checks  of  spirit  and  delicacy 
laid  upon  all  extravagant  desires.  Our  text, 
while  it  enjoins  the  performance  of  good  to 
others,  up  to  the  full  measure  of  your  de- 
sires of  good  from  them,  equally  enjoins  the 
keeping  down  of  these  desires  to  the  mea- 
sure of  your  performances.  If  Christian 
dispensers  had  only  to  do  with  Christian 
recipients,  the  whole  work  of  benevolence 
would  be  with  ease  and  harmony  carried 
on.  All  that  was  unavoidable — all  that 
came  from  the  hand  of  Providence — all 
that  was  laid  upon  our  suffering  brethren 
by  the  unlooked-for  visitations  of  accident 
or  disease — all  that  pain  and  misfortune, 
which  necessarily  attaches  to  the  constitu 
tion  of  the  species — all  this  the  text  most 
amply  provides  for ;  and  all  this  a  Christian 
society  would  be  delighted  to  stretch  forth 


ON  THE  GREAT  CHRISTIAN  LAW  OF  RECIPROCITY  BETWEEN  MEN. 


their  means  for  the  purpose  of  alleviating 
or  doing  away. 

We  should  not  have  dwelt  so  long  upon 
this  lesson,  were  it  not  for  the  essential 
Christian  principle  that  is  involved  in  it. 
The  morality  of  the  gospel  is  not  more 
strenuous  on  the  side  of  the  duty  of  giving 
of  this  world's  goods  when  it  is  needed,  than 
it  is  against  the  desire  of  receiving  when  it 
is  not  needed.  It  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive,  and  therefore  less  blessed  to 
receive  than  to  give.  For  the  enforcement 
of  this  principle  among  the  poorer  brethren, 
did  Paul  give  up  a  vast  portion  of  his  apos- 
tolical time  and  labour ;  and  that  he  might 
be  an  ensample  to  the  flock  of  working  with 
his  own  hands,  rather  than  be  burdensome, 
did  he  set  himself  down  to  the  occupation 
of  a  tent-maker.  That  lesson  is  surely  wor- 
thy of  engrossing  one  sermon  of  an  unin- 
spired teacher,  for  the  sake  of  which  an 
inspired  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles  engrossed 
as  much  time  as  would  have  admitted  the 
preparation  and  the  delivery  of  many  ser- 
mons. But  there  is  no  more  striking  indi- 
cation of  the  whole  spirit  and  character  of 
the  gospel  in  this  matter,  than  the  example 
of  him  who  is  the  author  of  it — and  of  whom 
we  read  these  affecting  words,  that  he  came 
into  the  world  not  to  be  ministered  unto, 
out  to  minister.  It  is  a  righteous  thing 
in  him  who  has  of  this  world's  goods,  to 
minister  to  the  necessities  of  others;  but 
it  is  a  still  higher  attainment  of  righteous- 
ness in  him  who  has  nothing  but  the  daily 
earnings  of  his  daily  work  to  depend  upon, 
so  to  manage  and  to  strive  that  he  shall  not 
need  to  be  ministered  unto.  Christianity 
overlooks  no  part  of  human  conduct ;  and 
by  providing  for  this  in  particular,  does  it, 
in  fact,  overtake,  and  that  with  a  precept 
of  utmost  importance,  the  habit  and  condi- 
tion of  a  very  extended  class  in  human  so- 
ciety. And  never  does  the  gospel  so  exhibit 
its  adaptation  to  our  species — and  never  does 
virtue  stand  in  such  characters  of  strength 
and  sacred ness  before  us — as  when  impreg- 
nated with  the  evangelical  spirit  and  urged 
by  evangelical  motives,  it  takes  its  most  di- 
rect sanction  from  the  life  and  doings  of  the 
Saviour. 

And  he  who  feels  as  he  ought,  will  bear 
with  cheerfulness  all  that  the  Saviour  pre- 
scribes, when  he  thinks  how  mnch  it  is  for 
him  that  the  Saviour  has  borne.  "We  speak 
20 


not  of  his  poverty  all  the  time  that  he  lived 
upon  earth.  We  speak  not  of  those  years 
when,  a  houseless  wanderer  in  an  unthank- 
ful world,  he  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head. 
We  speak  not  of  the  meek  and  uncomplain- 
ing sufferance  with  which  he  met  the  many 
ills  that  oppressed  the  tenor  of  his  mortal 
existence.  But  we  speak  of  that  awful 
burden  which  crushed  and  overwhelmed 
its  termination.  We  speak  of  that  season 
of  the  hour  and  the  power  of  darkness,  when 
it  pleased  the  Lord  to  bruise  him,  and  to 
make  his  soul  an  offering  for  sin.  To  esti- 
mate aright  the  endurance  of  him  who 
himself  bore  our  infirmities,  would  we  ask 
of  any  individual  to  recollect  some  deep 
and  awful  period  of  abandonment  in  his 
own  history — when  that  countenance  which 
at  one  time  beamed  and  brightened  upon 
him  from  above,  was  mantled  in  thickest 
darkness — when  the  iron  of  remorse  enter- 
ed into  his  soul — and,  laid  on  a  bed  of  tor- 
ture, he  was  made  to  behold  the  evil  of  sin, 
and  to  taste  of  its  bitterness.  Let  him  look 
back,  if  he  can,  on  this  conflict  of  many 
agitations,  and  then  figure  the  whole  of  this 
mental  wretchedness  to  be  borne  off  by 
the  ministers  of  vengeance  into  hell,  and 
stretched  out  unto  eternity.  And  if,  on  the 
great  day  of  expiation,  a  full  atonement  was 
rendered,  and  all  that  should  have  fallen 
upon  us  was  placed  upon  the  head  of  the 
sacrifice — let  him  hence  compute  the  weight 
and  the  awfulness  of  those  sorrows  which 
were  carried  by  him  on  whom  the  chastise- 
ment of  our  peace  was  laid,  and  who  poured 
out  his  soul  unto  the  death  for  us.  If  ever 
a  sinner,  under  such  a  visitation,  shall  again 
emerge  into  peace  and  joy  in  believing — 
if  he  ever  shall  again  find  his  way  to  that 
fountain  which  is  opened  in  the  house  of 
Judah — if  he  shall  recover  once  more  that 
sunshine  of  the  soul,  which,  on  the  days 
that  are  past,  disclosed  to  him  the  beauties 
of  holiness  here,  and  the  glories  of  heaven 
hereafter — if  ever  he  shall  hear  with  effect, 
in  this  world,  that  voice  from  the  mercy- 
seat,  which  still  proclaims  a  welcome  to  the 
chief  of  sinners,  and  beckons  him  afresh  to 
reconciliation — O!  how  gladly  then  should 
he  bear  throughout  the  remainder  of  his 
days,  the  whole  authority  of  the  Lord  who 
bought  him ;  and  bind  forever  to  his  own 
person  that  yoke  of  the  Saviour  which  is 
easy,  and  that  burden  which  is  light. 


154 


ON  THE  DISSIPATION  OF  LARGE  CITIES. 


[DISC. 


DISCOURSE  VI. 
On  the  Dissipation  of  large  Cities. 

"  Let  no  man  deceive  you  with  vain  words ;  for  because  of  these  things  cometh  the  wrath  of  God  upon  the 
children  of  disobedience." — Ephesians  v.  6. 


There  is  one  obvious  respect  in  which 
the  standard  of  morality  amongst  men,  dif- 
fers from  that  pure  and  universal  standard 
which  God  hath  set  up  for  the  obedience 
of  his  subjects.  Men  will  not  demand  very 
urgently  of  each  other,  that,  which  does 
not  very  nearly,  or  very  immediately,  af- 
fect their  own  personal  and  particular  in- 
terest. To  the  violations  of  justice,  or 
truth,  or  humanity,  they  will  be  abundant- 
ly sensitive,  because  these  offer  a  most  vi- 
sible and  quickly  felt  encroachment  on 
this  interest.  And  thus  it  is,  that  the  social 
virtues,  even  without  any  direct  sanction 
from  God  at  all,  will  ever  draw  a  certain 
portion  of  respect  and  reverence  around 
them ;  and  that  a  loud  testimony  of  abhor- 
rence may  often  be  heard  from  the  mouths 
of  ungodly  men,  against  all  such  vices  as 
may  be  classed  under  the  general  designa- 
tion of  vices  of  dishonesty. 

Now,  the  same  thing  does  not  hold  true 
of  another  class  of  vices,  which  may  be 
termed  the  vices  of  dissipation.  These  do 
not  touch,  in  so  visible  or  direct  a  manner, 
on  the  security  of  what  man  possesses,  and 
of  what  man  has  the  greatest  value  for. 
But  man  is  a  selfish  being,  and  therefore  it 
is,  that  the  ingredient  of  selfishness  gives  a 
keenness  to  his  estimation  of  the  evil  and 
of  the  enormity  of  the  former  vices,  which 
is  scarcely  felt  at  all  in  any  estimation  he 
may  form  of  the  latter  vices.  It  is  very 
true,  at  the  same  time,  that  if  one  were  to 
compute  the  whole  amount  of  the  mischief 
they  bring  upon  society,  it  would  be  found 
that  the  profligacies  of  mere  dissipation  go 
very  far  to  break  up  the  peace,  and  enjoy- 
ment, and  even  the  relative  virtues  of  the 
world :  and  that,  if  these  profligacies  were 
reformed,  it  would  work  a  mighty  aug- 
mentation on  the  temporal  good  both  of 
individuals  and  families.  But  the  con- 
nexion between  sobriety  of  character,  and 
the  happiness  of  the  community,  is  not  so 
apparent,  because  it  is  more  remote  than 
the  connexion  which  obtains  between  in- 
tegrity of  character,  and  the  happiness  of 
the  community ;  and  man  being  not  only 
a  selfish,  but  a  shortsighted  being,  it  fol- 
lows, that  while  the  voice  of  execration  may 
be  distinctly  heard  against  every  instance  of 
fraud  or  of  injustice,  instances  of  licentious- 
ness may  occur  on  every  side  of  us,  and  be 
reported  on  the  one  hand  with  the  utmost 
levity,  and  be  listened  to,  on  the  other,  with 
the  most  entire  and  complacent  toleration. 


Here,  then,  is  a  point,  in  which  the  general 
morality  of  the  world  is  at  utter  and  irre- 
concilable variance  with  the  law  of  God. 
Here  is  a  case,  in  which  the  voice  that  cometh 
forth  from  the  tribunal  of  public  opinion 
pronounces  one  thing,  and  the  voice  that 
cometh  forth  from  the  sanctuary  of  God 
pronounces  another.  When  there  is  an 
agreement  between  these  two  voices,  the 
principle  on  which  obedience  is  rendered  to 
their  joint  and  concurring  authority,  may 
be  altogether  equivocal ;  and,  with  reli- 
gious and  irreligious  men,  you  may  ob- 
serve an  equal  exhibition  of  all  the  equi- 
ties, and  all  the  civilities  of  life.  But  when 
there  is  a  discrepancy  between  these  two 
voices — or  when  the  one  attaches  a  crimi- 
nality to  certain  habits  of  conduct,  and  is 
not  at  all  seconded  by  the  testimony  of 
the  other — then  do  we  escape  the  confu- 
sion of  mingled  motives,  and  mingled  au 
thorities.  The  character  of  the  two  parties 
emerges  out  of  the  ambiguity  which  in- 
volved it.  The  law  of  God  points,  it  must 
be  allowed,  as  forcible  an  anathema  against 
the  man  of  dishonesty,  as  against  the  man 
of  dissipation.  But  the  chief  burden  of  the 
world's  anathema  is  laid  on  the  head  of 
the  former ;  and  therefore  it  is,  that,  on  the 
latter  ground,  we  meet  with  more  discri- 
minative tests  of  principle,  and  gather  more 
satisfying  materials  for  the  question  of — ■ 
who  is  on  the  side  of  the  Lord  of  hosts,  and 
who  is  against  him  ? 

The  passage  we  have  now  submitted  to 
you,  looks  hard  on  the  votaries  of  dissi- 
pation. It  is  like  eternal  truth,  lifting  up 
its  own  proclamation,  and  causing  it  to  be 
heard  amid  the  errors  and  the  delusions 
of  a  thoughtless  world.  It  is  like  the  Deity 
himself,  looking  forth,  as  he  did,  from  a 
cloud,  on  the  Egyptians  of  old,  and  trou- 
bling the  souls  of  those  who  are  lovers  of 
pleasu|p,  more  than  lovers  of  God.  It  is 
like  the  voice  of  heaven,  crying  down  the 
voice  of  human  society,  and  sending  forth 
a  note  of  alarm  amongst  its  giddy  genera- 
tions. It  is  like  the  unrolling  of  a  portion 
of  that  book  of  higher  jurisprudence,  out 
of  which  we  shall  be  judged  on  the  day  of 
our  coming  account,  and  setting  before  our 
eyes  an  enactment,  which,  if  we  disregard  it, 
will  turn  that  day  into  the  day  of  our  com- 
ing condemnation.  The  words  of  man  are 
adverted  to  in  this  solemn  proclamation  of 
God,  against  all  unlawful  and  all  unhal- 
lowed enjoyments',   and   they  are    called 


vi.1 


ON  THE  DISSIPATION  OF  LARGE  CITIES. 


155 


words  of  vanity.  He  sets  aside  the  au- 
thority of  human  opinion  altogether  ;  and, 
on  an  irrevocable  record,  has  he  stamped 
such  an  assertion  of  the  authority  that  be- 
longeth  to  himself  only,  as  serves  to  the 
end  of  time  for  an  enduring  memorial  of 
his  will ;  and  as  commits  the  truth  of  the 
Lawgiver  to  the  execution  of  a  sentence 
of  wrath  against  all  whose  souls  are 
hardened  by  the  deceitfulness  of  sin.  There 
is,  in  fact,  a  peculiar  deceitfulness  in  the 
matter  before  us;  and,  in  this  verse,  are 
we  warned  against  it — "  Let  no  man  de- 
ceive you  with  vain  words;  for,  because 
of  these  things,  the  wrath  of  God  cometh 
on  the  children  of  disobedience." 

In  the  preceding  verse,  there  is  such  an 
enumeration  as  serves  to  explain  what  the 
things  arc  which  are  alluded  to  in  the  text ; 
and  it  is  such  an  enumeration,  you  should 
remark,  as  goes  to  fasten  the  whole  terror, 
and  the  whole  threat,  of  the  coming  ven- 
geance— not  .on  the  man  who  combines  in 
his  own  person  all  the  characters  of  ini- 
quity which  are  specified,  but  on  the  man 
who  realizes  any  one  of  these  characters. 
It  is  not,  you  will  observe,  the  conjunction 
and,  but  the  conjunction  or,  which  is  in- 
terposed between  them.  It  is  not  as  if  we 
said,  that  the  man  who  is  dishonest,  and 
licentious,  and  covetous,  and  unfeeling, 
shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God — but 
the  man  who  is  either  dishonest,  or  licen- 
tious, or  covetous,  or  unfeeling.  On  the 
single  and  exclusive  possession  of  any  one 
of  these  attributes,  will  God  deal  with  you 
as  with  an  enemy.  The  plea,  that  we  are 
a  little  thoughtless,  but  we  have  a  good 
heart,  is  conclusively  cut  asunder  by  this 
portion  of  the  law  and  of  the  testimony. 
And  in  a  corresponding  passage,  in  the 
ninth  verse  of  the  sixth  chapter  of  Paul's 
first  epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  the  same 
peculiarity  is  observed  in  the  enumeration 
of  those  who  shall  be  excluded  from  God's 
favour,  and  have  the  burden  of  God's 
wrath  laid  on  them  through  eternity.  It  is 
not  the  man  who  combines  all  the  deformi- 
ties of  character  which  are  there  specified, 
but  the  man  who  realizes  any  one  of  the 
separate  deformities.  Some  of  them  are 
the  vices  of  dishonesty,  others  of  them  are 
the  vices  of  dissipation ;  and,  as  if  aware 
of  a  deceitfulness  from  this  cause,  he,  after 
telling  ns  that  the  unrighteous  shall  not  in- 
herit the  kingdom  of  God,  bids  us  not  be 
deceived — for  thai  neither  the  licentious, 
nor  the  abominable,  nor  thieves,  nor  covet- 
ous, nor  drunkards,  nor  revilers,  nor  ex- 
tortioners, shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of 
God. 

He  who  keepeth  the  whole  law,  but  of- 
fendeth  in  one  point,  says  the  Apostle  James, 
is  guilty  of  all.  The  truth  is,  that  his  dis- 
obedience on  this  one  point  may  be  more  de- 
cisive of  the  state  of  his  loyalty  to  God,  than 


his  keeping  all  the  rest.  It  may  be  the  only 
point  on  which  the  character  of  his  loyalty 
is  really  brought  to  the  trial.  All  his  con- 
formities to  the  law  of  God  might  have  been 
rendered,  because  they  thwarted  not  his 
own  inclination  ;  and,  therefore,  would  have 
been  rendered  though  there  had  been  no 
law  at  all.  The  single  infraction  may  have 
taken  place  in  the  only  case  where  there 
was  a  real  competition  between  the  will  of 
the  creature,  and  the  will  of  the  Creator ; 
and  the  event  proves  to  which  of  the  two 
the  right  of  superiority  is  awarded.  Alle- 
giance to  God  in  truth  is  but  one  principle, 
and  may  be  described  by  one  short  and 
summary  expression :  and  one  act  of  dis- 
obedience may  involve  in  it  such  a  total  sur- 
render of  the  principle,  as  goes  to  dethrone 
God  altogether  from  the  supremacy  which 
belongs  to  him.  So  that  the  account  be- 
tween a  creature  and  the  Creator  is  not  like 
an  account  made  up  of  many  items,  where 
the  expunging  of  one  item  would  only  make 
one  small  and  fractional  deduction  from  the 
whole  sum  of  obedience.  If  you  reserve 
but  a  single  item  from  this  account,  and  an- 
other makes  a  principle  of  completing  and 
rendering  up  the  whole  of  it,  then  your  cha- 
racter varies  from  his  not  by  a  slight  shade 
of  difference,  but  stands  contrasted  with  it 
in  direct  and  diametric  opposition.  We 
perceive,  that,  while  with  him  the  will  of 
God  has  the  mastery  over  all  his  inclina- 
tions, with  you  there  is,  at  least,  one  incli- 
nation which  has  the  mastery  over  God; 
that  while  in  his  bosom  there  exists  a  single 
and  subordinating  principle  of  allegiance  to 
the  law,  in  yours  there  exists  another  prin- 
ciple, which,  on  the  coming  round  of  a  fit 
opportunity,  developes  itself  in  an  act  of 
transgression ;  that,  while  with  him  God 
may  be  said  to  walk  and  to  dwell  in  him, 
with  you  there  is  an  evil  visitant,  who  has 
taken  up  his  abode  in  your  heart,  and  lodges 
there  either  in  a  state  of  dormancy  or  of 
action,  according  to  circumstances;  that, 
while  with  him  the  purpose  is  honestly 
proceeded  on,  of  doing  nothing  which  God 
disapproves,  with  you  there  is  a  purpose 
not  only  different,  but  opposite,  of  doing 
something  which  he  disapproves.  On  this 
single  difference  is  suspended  not  a  question 
of  degree,  but  a  question  of  kind.  There 
are  presented  to  us  not  two  hues  of  the 
same  colour,  but  two  colours,  just  as  broadly 
contrasted  with  each  other  as  light  and 
darkness.  And  such  is  the  state  of  the  al- 
ternative between  a  partial  and  an  unre- 
served obedience,  that  while  God  impera- 
tively claims  the  one  as  his  due,  he  looks 
on  the  other  as  an  expression  of  defiance 
against  him,  and  against  his  sovereignty. 

It  is  the  very  same  in  civil  government. 
A  man  renders  himself  an  outcast  by  one 
act  of  disobedience.  He  does  not  need  to 
accumulate  upon  himself  the  guilt  of  all  the 


156 


ON  THE  DISSIPATION  OF  LARGE  CITIES. 


[disc. 


higher  atrocities  in  crime,  ere  he  forfeits  his 
life  to  the  injured  laws  of  his  country.  By 
the  perpetration  of  any  of  them  is  the  whole 
vengeance  of  the  state  brought  to  bear  upon 
his  person,  and  sentence  of  death  is  pro- 
nounced on  a  single  murder,  or  forgery,  or 
act  of  violent  depredation. 

And  let  us  ask  you  just  to  reflect  on  the 
tone  and  spirit  of  that  man  towards  his  God, 
who  would  palliate,  for  example,  the  vices 
of  dissipation  to  which  he  is  addicted,  by 
alleging  his  utter  exemption  from  the  vices 
of  dishonesty,  to  which  he  is  not  addicted. 
Just  think  of  the  real  disposition  and  cha- 
racter of  his  soul,  who  can  say,  "I  will 
please  God,  but  only  when,  in  so  doing,  I 
also  please  myself;  or  I  will  do  homage  to 
his  law,  but  just  in  those  instances  by  which 
I  honour  the  rights,  and  fulfil  the  expecta- 
tions, of  society ;  or  I  will  be  decided  by 
his  opinion  of  the  right  and  the  wrong,  but 
just  when  the  opinion  of  ray  neighbourhood 
lends  its  powerful  and  effective  confirma- 
tion. But  in  other  cases,  when  the  matter 
is  reduced  to  a  bare  question  between  man 
and  God,  when  he  is  the  single  party  I  have 
to  do  with,  when  his  will  and  his  wrath  are 
the  only  elements  which  enter  into  the  de- 
liberation, when  judgment,  and  eternity, 
and  the  voice  of  him  who  speaketh  from 
heaven  are  the  only  considerations  at  issue — 
then  do  I  feel  myself  at  greater  liberty,  and 
I  shall  take  my  own  way,  and  walk  in  the 
counsel  of  mine  own  heart,  and  after  the 
sight  of  my  own  eyes."  O !  be  assured, 
that  when  all  this  is  laid  bare  on  the  day  of 
reckoning,  and  the  discerner  of  the  heart 
pronounces  upon  it,  and  such  a  sentence  is 
to  be  given,  as  will  make  it  manifest  to  the 
consciences  of  all  assembled,  that  true  and 
righteous  are  the  judgments  of  God — there 
is  many  a  creditable  man  who  has  passed 
through  the  world  with  the  plaudits  and 
the  testimonies  of  all  his  fellows,  and  with- 
out one  other  flaw  upon  his  reputation  but 
the  very  slender  one  of  certain  harmless 
foibles,  and  certain  good-humoured  pecu- 
liarities, who  when  brought  to  the  bar  of 
account,  will  stand  convicted  there  of  having 
made  a  divinity  of  his  own  will,  and  spent 
his  days  in  practical  and  habitual  atheism. 

And  this  argument  is  not  at  all  affected 
by  the  actual  state  of  sinfulness  and  infirmity 
into  which  we  have  fallen.  It  is  true,  even 
of  saints  on  earth,  that  they  commit  sin. 
But  to  be  overtaken  in  a  fault  is  one  thing ; 
to  commit  that  fault  with  the  deliberate  con- 
sent of  the  mind  is  another.  There  is  in  the 
bosom  of  every  true  Christian  a  strenuous 
principle  of  resistance  to  sin,  and  it  belongs 
to  the  very  essence  of  the  principle  that  it 
is  resistance  to  all  sin.  It  admits  of  no  vo- 
luntary indulgence  to  one  sin  more  than 
to  another.  Such  an  indulgence  would  not 
only  change  the  character  of  what  may  be 
called  the  elementary  principle  of  regene- 


ration, but  would  destroy  it  altogether. 
The  man  who  has  entered  on  a  course  of 
Christian  discipleship,  carries  on  an  un- 
sparing and  universal  war  with  all  iniquity. 
He  has  chosen  Christ  for  his  alone  master, 
and  he  struggles  against  the  ascendency  of 
every  other.  It  is  his  sustained  and  habitual 
exertion  in  following  after  him  to  forsake 
all;  so  that  if  his  performances  were  as 
complete  as  his  endeavour,  you  would  not 
merely  see  a  conformity  to  some  of  the 
precepts,  but  a  conformity  to  the  whole  law 
of  God.  At  all  events,  the  endeavour  is  an 
honest  one,  and  so  far  successful,  that  sin 
has  not  the  dominion;  and  sure  we  are, 
that,  in  such  a  state  of  things,  the  vices  of 
dissipation  can  have  no  existence.  These 
vices  can  be  more  effectually  shunned,  and 
*iore  effectually  surmounted,  for  example, 
than  the  infirmities  of  an  unhappy  temper. 
So  that,  if  dissipation  still  attaches  to  the 
character,  and  appears  in  the  conduct  of  any 
individual,  we  know  not  a  more  decisive 
evidence  of  the  state  of  that  individual  as 
being  one  of  the  many  who  crowd  the  broad 
way  that  leadeth  to  destruction.  We  look 
no  further  to  make  out  our  estimate  of  his 
present  condition  as  being  that  of  a  rebel, 
and  of  his  future  prospect  as  being  that  of 
spending  an  eternity  in  hell.  There  is  no 
halting  between  two  opinions  in  this  matter. 
The  man  who  enters  a  career  of  dissipation 
throws  down  the  gauntlet  of  defiance  to  his 
God.  The  man  who  persists  in  this  career 
keeps  on  the  ground  of  hostility  against 
him. 

Let  us  now  endeavour  to  trace  the  origin, 
the  progress,  and  the  effects  of  a  life  of  dis- 
sipation. 

First,  then,  it  may  be  said  of  a  very  great 
number  of  young  men,  on  their  entrance 
into  the  business  of  the  world,  that  they  have 
not  been  enough  fortified  against  its  se- 
ducing influences  by  their  previous  educa- 
tion at  home.  Generally  speaking,  they 
come  out  from  the  habitation  of  their  pa- 
rents unarmed  and  unprepared  for  the  con- 
test which  awaits  them.  If  the  spirit  of 
this  world's  morality  reign  in  their  own  fa- 
mily, then  it  cannot  be,  that  their  introduc- 
tion into  a  more  public  scene  of  life  will  be 
very  strictly  guarded  against  those  vices  on 
which  the  world  placidly  smiles,  or  at  least 
regards  with  silent  toleration.  They  may 
have  been  told,  in  early  boyhood,  of  the  in- 
famy of  a  lie.  They  may  have  had  the  vir- 
tues of  punctuality,  and  of  economy,  and 
of  regular  attention  to  business,  pressed  upon 
their  observation.  They  may  have  heard  a 
uniform  testimony  on  the  side  of  good  be- 
haviour, up  to  the  standard  of  such  current 
moralities  as  obtain  in  their  neighbourhood ; 
and  this,  we  are  ready  to  admit,  may  in- 
clude in  it  a  testimony  against  all  such  ex- 
cesses of  dissipation  as  would  unfit  them 
for  the  prosecution  of  this  world's  interests. 


VI.] 


ON  THE  DISSIPATION  OF  LARGE  CITIES. 


157 


Bui  let  us  ask,  whether  there  are  not  pa- 
rents, who,  after  they  have  carried  the  work 
of  discipline  thus  far.  forbear  to  carry  it  any 
farther  ;  who,  while  they  would  mourn  over 
it  as  a  family  trial  should  any  son  of  theirs 
fall  a  victim  to  recessive  dissipation,  yet  are 
willing  to  tolerate  the  lesser  degrees  of  it; 
who,  instead  of  deciding  the  question  on 
the  alternative  of  his  heaven  or  his  hell,  are 
satisfied  with  such  a  measure  of  sobriety  as 
will  save  him  from  ruin  and  disgrace  in  this 
life;  who,  if  they  can  can  only  secure  this, 
have  no  great  objection  to  the  moderate 
share  he  may  take  in  this  world's  conform- 
ities; who  feel,  that  in  this  matter  there  is 
a  necessity  and  a  power  of  example  against 
which  it  is  vain  to  struggle,  and  which  must 
be  acquiesced  in ;  who  deceive  themselves 
with  the  fancied  impossibility  of  stopping 
the  evil  in  question — and  say,  that  business 
must  be  gone  through ;  and  that,  in  the 
prosecution  of  it,  exposures  must  be  made ; 
and  that,  for  the  success  of  it,  a  certain  de- 
gree of  accommodation  to  others  must  be 
observed;  and  seeing  that  it  is  so  mighty 
an  object  for  one  to  widen  the  extent  of  his 
connexions,  he  must  neither  be  very  retired 
nor  very  peculiar — nor  must  his  hours  of 
companionship  be  too  jealously  watched  or 
inquired  into — nor  must  we  take  him  too 
strictly  to  task  about  engagements,  and  ac- 
quaintances, and  expenditure — nor  must  we 
forget,  that  while  sobriety  has  its  time  and 
its  season  in  one  period  of  life,  indulgence 
has  its  season  in  another ;  and  we  may  fetch 
from  the  recollected  follies  of  our  own 
youth,  a  lesson  of  connivance  for  the  pre- 
sent occasion;  and  altogether  there  is  no 
help  for  it ;  and  it  appears  to  us,  that  abso- 
lutely and  totally  to  secure  him  from  ever 
entering  upon  scenes  of  dissipation,  you 
must  absolute!}'  and  totally  withdraw  him 
from  the  world,  and  surrender  all  his  pros- 
pects of  advancement,  and  give  up  the  ob- 
ject of  such  a  provision  for  our  families  as 
we  feel  to  be  a  first  and  most  important 
concern  with  us. 

"Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  his 
righteousness,"  says  the  Bible,  "and  all  other 
things  shall  be  added  unto  you."  This  is  the 
promise  which  the  faith  of  a  Christian  pa- 
rent will  rest  upon  ;  and  in  the  face  of  every 
hazard  to  the  worldly  interests  of  his  off- 
spring.will  he  bring  them  up  in  the  strict  nur- 
ture and  admonition  of  the  Lord ;  and  he  will 
loudly  protest  against  iniquity,  in  all  its  de- 
grees and  in  all  its  modifications;  and  while 
the  power  of  discipline  remains  with  him, 
will  it  ever  be  exerted  on  the  side  of  pure, 
faultless,  undeviating  obedience ;  and  he 
will  tolerate  no  exception  whatever;  and  he 
will  brave  all  that  looks  formidable  in  singu- 
larity, and  all  that  looks  menacing  in*  sepa- 
ration from  the  custom  and  countenance  of 
the  world;  and  feeling  that  his  main  con- 
cern is  to  secure  for  himself  and  for  his  fa- 1 


mily  a  place  in  the  city  Avhich  hath  founda- 
tions, will  he  spurn  all  the  max  mis  and  all 
the  plausibilities  of  a  contagious  neighbour- 
hood away  from  him.  He  knows  the  price 
of  his  Christianity,  and  it  is  that  he  must 
break  off  conformity  with  the  world— nor 
for  any  paltry  advantage  which  it  lias  to 
offer,  will  he  compromise  the  eternity  of  his 
children.  And  let  us  tell  the  parents  of  an- 
other spirit  and  principle,  that  they  are  as 
good  as  incurring  the  guilt  of  a  human  sa- 
crifice; that  they  are  offering  up  their  chil- 
dren at  the  shrine  of  an  idol;  that  they  are 
parties  in  provoking  the  wrath  of  God 
against  them  here ;  and  on  the  day  when 
that  wrath  is  to  be  revealed,  shall  the.  i 
not  only  the  moanings  of  their  despair  but 
the  outcries  of  their  bitterest  execration, 
On  that  day,  the  glance  of  reproach  from 
their  own  neglected  offspring  will  throw  a 
deeper  shade  of  wretchedness  over  the  dark 
and  boundless  futurity  that  lies  before  them. 
And  if,  at  the  time  when  prophets  rung  the 
tidings  of  God's  displeasure  against  the  peo- 
ple of  Israel  it  was  denounced  as  the  foulest 
of  all  their  abominations  that  they  caused 
their  children  to  pass  through  the  fire  unto 
Moloch— know,  ye  parents,  who  in  placing 
your  children  on  some  road  to  gainful  em- 
ployment, have  placed  them  without  a  sigh 
in  the  midst  of  depravity,  so  near  and  so 
surrounding,  that,  without  a  miracle,  they 
must  perish,  you  have  done  an  act  of  idola- 
try to  the  god  of  this  world  ;  you  have  com- 
manded your  household  after  you  to  wor- 
ship him  as  the  great  divinity  of  their  lives ; 
and  you  have  caused  your  children  to  make 
their  approaches  unto  his  presence — and, 
in  so  doing,  to  pass  through  the  fire  of 
such  temptations  as  have  destroyed  them. 

We  do  not  wish  to  offer  you  an  over- 
charged picture  on  this  melancholy  subject. 
What  we  now  say  is  not  applicable  to  all. 
Even  in  the  most  corrupt  and  croAvded  of 
our  cities,  parents  are  to  be  found,  who  no- 
bly dare  the  surrender  of  every  vain  and 
flattering  illusion,  rather  than  surrender  the 
Christianity  of  their  children.  And  what 
is  still  more  affecting,  over  the  face  of  the 
country  do  we  meet  with  such  parents,  who 
look  on  this  world  as  a  passage  to  another. 
and  on  all  the  members  of  their  household 
as  fellow-travellers  to  eternity  along  with 
them ;  and  who,  in  the  true  spirit  of  be- 
lievers, feel  the  salvation  of  their  children 
to  be,  indeed,  the  burden  of  their  best  and 
dearest  interest ;  and  Avho,  by  prayer,  and 
precept,  and  example,  have  strenuously  la- 
boured with  their  souls,  from  the  earliest 
light  of  their  understanding ;  and  have 
taught  them  to  tremble  at  the  way  of  evil 
doers,  and  to  have  no  fellowship  with  those 
who  keep  not  the  commandments  of  God — 
nor  is  there  a  day  more  sorrowful  in  the 
annals  of  this  pious  family,  than  when  the 
course  of  time  has  brought  them  onwards 


158 


ON  THE  DISSIPATION  OF  LARGE  CITIES. 


[disc. 


to  the  departure  of  their  eldest  boy — and  he 
must  bid  adieu  to  his  native  home,  with  all 
the  peace,  and  all  the  simplicity  which 
abound  in  it — and  as  he  eyes  in  fancy  the 
distant  town  whither  he  is  going,  does  he 
shrink  as  from  the  thought  of  an  unknown 
wilderness — and  it  is  his  firm  purpose  'to 
keep  aloof  from  the  dangers  and  the  profli- 
gacies which  deform  it — and,  should  sinners 
offer  to  entice  him,  not  to  consent,  and 
never,  never  to  forget  the  lessons  of  a  fa- 
ther's vigilance,  the  tenderness  of  a  mother's 
prayers. 

Let  us  now,  in  the  next  place,  pass  from 
that  state  of  things  which  obtains  among  the 
young  at  their  outset  into  the  world,  and 
take  a  look  of  that  state  of  things  which 
obtains  after  they  have  got  fairly  introduced 
into  it — when  the  children  of  the  ungodly, 
and  the  children  of  the  religious,  meet  on 
one  common  arena-  -when  business  asso- 
ciates them  togethei  in  one  chamber,  and 
the  omnipotence  of  custom  lays  it  upon 
them  all  to  meet  together  at  periodic  inter- 
vals, and  join  in  the  same  parties,  and  the 
same  entertainments — when  the  yearly  im- 
portation of  youths  from  the  country  falls 
in  with  that  assimilating  mass  of  corrup- 
tion which  has  got  so  firm  and  so  rooted 
an  establishment  in  the  town — when  the 
frail  and  unsheltered  delicacies  of  the  timid 
boy  have  to  stand  a  rude  and  a  boisterous 
contest  with  the  hardier  depravity  of  those 
who  have  gone  before  him — when  ridicule, 
and  example,  and  the  vain  words  of  a  de- 
lusive sophistry,  which  palliates  in  his  hear- 
ing the  enormity  of  vice,  are  all  brought  to 
bear  upon  his  scruples,  and  to  stifle  the  re- 
morse he  might  feel  when  he  casts  his  prin- 
ciple and  his  purity  away  from  him — when, 
placed  as  he  is  in  a  land  of  strangers,  he 
finds,  that  the  tenure  of  acquaintanceship, 
with  nearly  all  around  him,  is,  that  he  ren- 
der himself  up  in  a  conformity  to  their 
doings — when  a  voice,  like  the  voice  of 
protecting  friendship,  bids  him  to  the  feast; 
and  a  welcome,  like  the  welcome  of  honest 
kindness,  hails  his  accession  to  the  society; 
and  a  spirit,  like  the  spirit  of  exhilarating 
joy,  animates  the  whole  scene  of  hospitality 
before  him ;  and  hours  of  rapture  roll  suc- 
cessively away  on  the  wings  of  merriment, 
jocularity,  and  song  ;  and  after  the  homage 
of  many  libations  has  been  rendered  to 
honour,  and  fellowship,  and  patriotism,  im- 
purity is  at  length  proclaimed  in  full  and 
open  cry,  as  one  presiding  divinity,  at  the 
board  of  their  social  entertainment. 

And  now  it  remains  to  compute  the  gene- 
ral result  of  a  process,  which  we  assert  of 
the  vast  majority  of  our  young,  on  their 
way  to  manhood,  that  they  have  to  under- 
go. The  result  is,  that  the  vast  majority 
are  initiated  into  all  the  practices,  and 
describe  the  full  career  of  dissipation. 
Those  who  have  imbibed  from  their  fathers 


the  spirit  of  this  world's  morality,  are  not 
sensibly  arrested  in  this  career,  either  by 
the  opposition  of  their  own  friends,  or  by 
the  voice  of  their  own  conscience.  Those 
who  have  imbibed  an  opposite  spirit,  and 
have  brought  it  into  competition  with  an 
evil  world,  and  have  at  length  yielded,  have 
done  so,  we  may  well  suppose,  with  many 
a  sigh,  and  many  a  struggle,  and  many  a 
look  of  remembrance  on  those  former  years 
when  they  were  taught  to  lisp  the  prayer 
of  infancy,  and  were  trained  in  a  mansion 
of  piety  to  a  reverence  for  God,  and  for  all 
his  ways;  and,  even  still,  will  a  parent's  part- 
ing advice  haunt  his  memory,  and  a  letter 
from  the  good  old  man  revive  the  sensibilities 
which  at  one  time  guarded  and  adorned  him; 
and,  at  times,  will  the  transient  gleam  of 
remorse  lighten  up  its  agony  within  him ; 
and  when,  he  contrasts  the  profaneness  and 
depravity  of  his  present  companions,  with 
the  sacredness  of  all  he  ever  heard  or  saw 
in  his  father's  dwelling,  it  will  almost  feel 
as  if  conscience  were  again  to  resume  her 
power,  and  the  revisiting  spirit  of  God  to 
call  him  back  again  from  the  paths  of  wick- 
edness ;  and  on  his  restless  bed  will  the 
images  of  guilt  conspire  to  disturb  him,  and 
the  terrors  of  punishment  offer  to  scare  him 
away;  and  many  will  be  the  dreary  and 
dissatisfied  intervals  when  he  shall  be  forced 
to  acknowledge  that  in  bartering  his  soul 
for  the  pleasures  of  sin,  he  has  bartered  the 
peace  and  enjoyment  of  the  world  along 
with  it.  But,  alas !  the  entanglements  of 
companionship  have  got  hold  of  him  ;  and 
the  inveteracy  of  habit  tyrannizes  over  all 
his  purposes  ;  and  the  stated  opportunity 
again  comes  round  ;  and  the  loud  laugh  of 
his  partners  in  guilt  chases,  for  another  sea- 
son, all  his  despondency  away  from  him , 
and  the  infatuation  gathers  upon  him  every 
month;  and  a  hardening  process  goes  on 
within  his  heart ;  and  the  deceitfulness  of 
sin  grows  apace ;  and  he  at  length  becomes 
one  of  the  sturdiest-  and  most  unrelenting 
of  her  votaries;  and  he,  in  his  turn,  strength- 
ens the  conspiracy  that  is  formed  against 
the  morals  of  a  new  generation ;  and  all  the 
ingenuous  delicacies  of  other  days  are  ob- 
literated ;  and  he  contracts  a  temperament 
of  knowing,  hackneyed,  unfeeling  depra- 
vity; and  thus  the  mischief  is  transmit- 
ted from  one  year  to  another,  and  keeps  up 
the  guilty  history  of  every  place  of  crowd- 
ed population. 

And  let  us  hert  speak  one  word  to  those 
seniors  in  depravity-  -those  men  who  give 
to  the  corruption  of  ac^  "aintances,  who  are 
younger  than  themselv-s,  their  counte- 
nance, their  agency ;  and  who  can  initiate 
them  jvithout  a  sigh  in  the  mysteries  of 
guilt,  and  care  not  though  a  parent's  hope 
should  wither  and  expire  under  the  conta- 
gion of  their  ruffian  example.  It  is  only 
upon  their  own  conversion  that  we  can 


VI.]' 


ON  THE  DISSIPATION  OF  LARGE  CITIES. 


159 


speak  to  them  the  pardon  of  the  gospel.  It 
is  only  if  they  themselves  are  washed,  and 
sanctified,  and  justified,  that  Ave  can  warrant 
their  personal  deliverance  from  the  wrath 
that  is  to  come.  But  under  all  the  conceal- 
ment which  rests  on  the  futurities  of  God's 
administration,  we  know  that  there  are  de- 
grees of  suffering  in  hell — and  that  while 
some  are  beaten  with  few  stripes,  others 
are  beaten  with  many.  And  surely,  if  they 
who  turn  many  to  righteousness  shall  shine 
as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever,  we  may  be 
well  assured  that  they  who  patronize  the 
cause  of  iniquity — they  who  can  beckon 
others  to  that  way  which  leadeth  on  to  the 
chambers  of  death — they  who  can  aid  and 
witness,  without  a  sigh,  the  extinction  of 
youthful  modesty — surely,  it  may  well  be 
said  of  such,  that  on  them  a  darker  frown 
will  fall  from  the  judgment-seat,  and  through 
eternity  will  they  have  to  bear  the  pains  of 
a  fiercer  indignation. 

Having  thus  looked  to  the  commence- 
ment of  a  course  of  dissipation,  and  to  its 
progress,  let  us  now,  in  the  third  place, 
look  to  its  usual  termination.  We  speak 
not  at  present  of  the  coming  death,  and  of 
the  coming  judgment,  but  of  -the  change 
which  takes  place  on  many  a  votary  of  licen- 
tiousness, when  he  becomes  what  the  world 
calls  a  reformed  man ;  and  puts  on  the  de- 
cencies of  a  sober  and  domestic  establish- 
ment ;  and  bids  adieu  to  the  pursuits  and 
the  profligacies  of  youth,  not  because  he 
has  repented  of  them,  but  because  he  has 
outlived  them.  You  all  perceive  how  this 
may  be  don."  without  one  movement  of  the 
heart,  or  of  the  understanding,  towards  God 
— that  it  is  done  by  many,  though  duty  to 
him  be  not  in  all  their  thoughts — that  the 
change,  in  this  case,  is  not  from  the  idol 
of  pleasure  unto  God,  but  only  from  one 
idol  to  another — and  that,  after  the  whole 
of  this  boasted  transformation,  we  may  still 
behold  the  same  body  of  sin  and  of  death, 
and  only  a  new  complexion  thrown  over  it. 
There  may  be  the  putting  on  of  sobriety, 
but  there  is  no  putting  on  of  godliness.  It 
is  a  common  and  easy  transition  to  pass 
from  one  kind  of  disobedience  to  another, 
but  it  is  not  so  easy  to  give  up  that  re- 
belliousnesa  of  the  heart  which  lies  at  the 
root  of  all  disobedience.  It  may  be  easy, 
after  the  wonted  course  of  dissipation  is 
ended,  to  hold  out  another  aspect  altogether 
in  the  eye  of  acquaintances ;  but  it  is  not 
so  easy  to  recover  that  shock,  and  that 
overthrow,  which  the  religious  principle 
sustains,  when  a  man  first  enters  the  world, 
and  surrenders  himself  to  the  power  of  its 
enticements.  Such  were  some  of  you,  jays 
the  Apostle,  but  ye  are  washed,  and  jimc- 
tified,  and  justified.  Our  reformed  man 
knows  not  the  meaning  of  such  a  process  ; 
and,  most  assuredly,  has  not  at  all  realized*1 
it  in  the  history  of  his  own  person.    We 


will  not  say  what  new  object  he  is  running 
after.  It  may  be  wealth,  or  ambition,  or 
philosophy;  but  it  is  nothing  connect!  d  with 
the  interest  of  his  soul,  it  bears  no  refer- 
ence whatever  to  the  concerns  of  that  great 
relationship  which  obtains  between  the 
creature  and  the  Creator.  The  man  has 
withdrawn,  and  perhaps  for  ever,  from  the 
scenes  of  dissipation,  and  lias  betaken  him- 
self to  another  way — but  still  it.  is  his  own 
way.  It  is  not  the  will  or  the  way  of  (  od 
that  he  is  yet  caring  for.  Such  a  man  may 
bid  adieu  to  profligacy  in  his  own  person. 
But  he  lifts  up  the  light  of  his  countenance 
on  the  profligacy  of  others.  He  gives  it 
the  whole  weight  and  authority  of  his  con- 
nivance. He  wields,  we  will  say  it,  such  an 
instrumentality  of  seduction  over  the  young, 
as,  though  not  so  alarming,  is  fur  more  dan- 
gerous than  the  undisguised  attempts  of 
those  who  are  the  immediate  agents  of  cor- 
ruption. The  formal  and  deliberate  conspi- 
racy of  those  who  club  together,  at  stated 
terms  of  companionship,  may  be  all  seen, 
and  watched,  and  guarded  against.  But 
how  shall  we  pursue  this  conspiracy  into 
its  other  ramifications?  How  shall  we  be 
able  to  neutralize  that  insinuating  poison 
which  distils  from  the  lips  of  grave  and  re- 
spectable citizens?  How  shall  we  be  able 
to  dissipate  that  gloss  which  is  thrown  by 
the  smile  of  elders  and  superiors  over  the 
sins  of  forbidden  indulgence?  How  can 
we  disarm  the  bewitching  sophistry  which 
lies  in  all  these  evident  tokens  of  compla- 
cency, on  the  part  of  advanced  and  reput- 
able men  ?  How  is  it  possible  to  trace  the 
progress  of  this  sore  evil,  throughout  all 
the  business  and  intercourse  of  society? 
How  can  we  stem  the  influence  of  evil 
communications,  when  the  friend,  and  the 
patron,  and  the  man  who  has  cheered  and 
signalized  us  by  his  polite  invitations,  turns 
his  own  family-table  into  a  nursery  of  li- 
centiousness ?  How  can  we  but  despair  of 
ever  witnessing  on  earth  a  pure  and  a  holy 
generation,  when  even  parents  will  utter 
their  polluting  levities  in  the  hearing  of  their 
own  children ;  and  vice,  and  humour,  and 
gaiety,  are  all  indiscriminately  blended  into 
one  conversation ;  and  a  loud  laugh,  from 
the  initiated  and  the  uninitiated  in  profli- 
gacy, is  ever  ready  to  flatter  and  to  regale 
the  man  who  can  thus  prostitute  his  powers 
of  entertainment?  O!  for  an  arm  of  strength 
to  demolish  this  firm  and  far  spread  com- 
pact of  iniquity  ;  and  for  the  power  of 
some  such  piercing  and  prophetic  voice, 
as  might  convince  our  reformed  men  of 
the  baleful  influence  they  cast  behind  them 
on  the  morals  of  the  succeeding  genera 
tion. 

We,  at  the  same  time,  have  our  eye  per- 
fectly open  to  that  great  external  improve- 
ment winch  has  taken  place,  of  late  years, 
in  the  manners  of  society.   There  is  not  the 


160 


ON  THE  DISSIPATION  OF  LARGE  CITIES. 


|  DISC 


same  grossness  of  conversation.  There  is 
not  the  same  impatience  for  the  withdraw- 
ment  of  him,  who,  asked  to  grace  the  outset 
of  an  assembled  party,  is  compelled,  at  a 
certain  step  in  the  process  of  conviviality, 
by  the  obligations  of  professional  decency, 
to  retire  from  it.  There  is  not  so  frequent 
an  exaction  of  this  as  one  of  the  established 
proprieties  of  social  or  of  fashionable  life. 
And  if  such  an  exaction  was  ever  laid  by 
the  omnipotence  of  custom  on  a  minister  of 
Christianity,  it  is  such  an  exaction  as  ought 
never,  never,  to  be  complied  with.  It  is  not 
for  him  to  lend  the  sanction  of  his  presence  to 
a  meeting  with  which  he  could  not  sit  to  its 
final  termination.  It  is  not  for  him  to  stand 
associated,  for  a  single  hour,  with  an  assem- 
blage of  men  who  begin  with  hypocrisy, 
and  end  with  downright  blackguardism.  It 
is  not  for  him  to  watch  the  progress  of  the 
coming  ribaldry,  and  to  hit  the  well  selected 
moment  when  talk,  and  turbulence,  and  bois- 
terous merriment,  are  on  the  eve  of  bursting 
forth  upon  the  company,  and  carrying  them 
forward  to  the  full  acme  and  uproar  of  their 
enjoyment.  It  is  quite  in  vain  to  say,  that  he 
has  only  sanctified  one  part  of  such  an  en- 
tertainment. He  has  as  good  as  given  his 
connivance  to  the  whole  of  it,  and  left  be- 
hind him  a  discharge  in  full  of  all  its  abom- 
inations ;  and,  therefore,  be  they  who  they 
may,  whether  they  rank  among  the  proudest 
aristocracy  of  our  land,  or  are  charioted  in 
splendour  along,  as  the  wealthiest  of  the 
citizens,  it  is  his  part  to  keep  as  purely  and 
indignantly  aloof  from  such  society  as  this, 
as  he  would  from  the  vilest  and  most  de- 
basing associations  of  profligacy. 

And  now  the  important  question  comes  to 
oe  put ;  what  is  the  likeliest  way  of  setting 
up  a  barrier  against  this  desolating  torrent 
of  corruption,  into  which  there  enter  so 
many  elements  of  power  and  strength,  that 
to  the  general  eye,  it  looks  altogether  irre- 
sistible? It  is  easier  to  give  a  negative,  than 
an  affirmative  answer  to  this  question. 
And,  therefore,  it  shall  be  our  first  remark, 
that  the  mischief  never  will  be  effectually 
combatted  by  any  expedient  separate  from 
the  growth  and  the  transmission  of  personal 
Christianity  throughout  the  land.  If  no 
addition  be  made  to  the  stock  of  religious 
principle  in  a  country,  then  the  profligacy 
of  a  country  will  make  its  obstinate  stand 
against  all  the  mechanism  of  the  most  skil- 
ful, and  plausible,  and  well  looking  contriv- 
ances. It  must  not  be  disguised  from  you, 
that  it.  does  not  lie  within  the  compass  either 
of  prisons  or  penitentiaries  to  work  any 
sensible  abatement  on  the  wickedness  of 
our  existing  generation.  The  operation  must 
be  of  a  preventive,  rather  than  of  a  corrective 
tendency.  It  must  be  brought  to  bear  upon 
boyhood ;  and  be  kept  up  through  that  whole 
period  of  random  exposures  through  which 
it  has  to  run,  on  its  way  to  an  established 


condition  in  society ;  and  a  high  tone  ol 
moral  purity  must  be  infused  into  the  bosom 
of  many  individuals;  and  their  agency  will 
effect  through  the  channels  of  family  and 
social  connexion,  what  never  can  be  effected 
by  any  framework  of  artificial  regulations, 
so  long  as  the  spirit  and  character  of  society 
remain  what  they  are.  In  other  words,  the 
progress  of  reformation  will  never  be  sensi- 
bly carried  forward  beyond  the  progress  of 
personal  Christianity  in  the  world)  and, 
therefore,  the  question  resolves  itself  into 
the  likeliest  method  of  adding  to  the  num- 
ber of  Christian  parents  who  may  fortify 
the  principles  of  their  children  at  their  first 
outset  in  life — of  adding  to  the  number  of 
Christian  young  men,  who  might  nobly 
dare  to  be  singular,  and  to  perform  the  an- 
gelic office  of  guardians  and  advisers  to 
those  who  are  younger  than  themselves — 
of  adding  to  the  number  of  Christians  in 
middle  and  advanced  life,  who  might,  as  far 
as  in  them  lies,  alter  the  general  feeling  and 
countenance  of  society ;  and  blunt  the  force 
of  that  tacit  but  most  seductive  testimony, 
which  has  done  so  much  to  throw  a  pallia- 
tive veil  over  the  guilt  of  a  life  of  dissipation. 
Such  a  question  cannot,  lie  entered  upon, 
at  present,  in  all  its  bearings,  and  in  all  its 
generality.  And  we  must,  therefore,  simply 
satisfy  ourselves  with  the  object,  that  as  we 
have  attempted  already  to  approach  the  in- 
difference of  parents,  and  to  reproach  the 
unfeeling  depravity  of  those  young  men 
who  scatter  their  pestilential  levities  around 
the  whole  circle  of  their  companionship,  we 
may  now  shortly  attempt  to  lay  upon  the 
men  of  middle  and  advanced  life,  in  general 
society,  their  share  of  responsibility  for  the 
morals  of  the  rising  generation.  For  the 
promotion  of  this  great  cause,  it  is  not.  at  all 
necessary  to  school  them  into  any  nice  or 
exquisite  contrivances.  Could  we  only  give 
them  a  desire  towards  it,  and  a  sense  of 
obligation,  they  would  soon  find  their  own 
way  to  the  right  exercise  of  their  own  in- 
fluence in  forwarding  the  interests  of  purity 
and  virtue  among  the  young.  Could  we 
only  affect  their  consciences  on  this  point, 
there  would  be  almost  no  necessity  what- 
ever to  guide  or  enlighten  their  understand- 
ing. Could  we  only  get  them  to  be  Chris- 
tians, and  to  carry  their  Christianity  into 
their  business,  they  would  then  feel  them- 
selves invested  with  a  guardianship;  and 
that  time,  and  pains,  and  attention,  ought 
to  be  given  to  the  fulfilment  of  its  concerns. 
It  is  quite  in  vain  to  ask,  as  if  there  was 
any  mystery,  or  any  helplessness  about  it, 
"What  can  they  do?"  For,  is  it  not  the 
facWmost  palpably  obvious,  that  much  can 
be^me  even  by  the  mere  power  of  ex- 
ample? Or  might  not  the  master  of  any 
trading  establishment  send  the  pervading 
•"influence  of  his  own  principles  among  some, 
at  least,  of  the  servants  and  auxiliaries  who 


VII.] 


VITIATING  INFLUENCE   OF  HIGHER  UPON   LOWER  ORDERS. 


IG1 


belong  to  it ?  Or  can  he,  in  no  degree  what- 
ever, so  select  those  who  are  admitted,  as 
in  ward  off  much  contamination  from  the 
brunches  of  his  employ?  Or  might  not  he 
so  deal  out  his  encouragement  to  the  de- 
serving, as  to  confirm  them  in  all  their  pur- 
poses of  sobriety  ?  Or  might  not  he  inter- 
pose the  shield  of  his  countenance  and  his 
testimony  between  a  struggling  youth  and 
the  ridicule  of  his  acquaintances'?  Or,  by 
the  friendly  conversation  of  half  an  hour, 
might  not  he  strengthen  within  him  every 
principle  of  virtuous  resistance?  By  these, 
and  by  a  thousand  other  expedients,  which 
will  readily  suggest  themselves  to  him  who 
has  the  good  will,  might  not  a  healing  water 
be  sent  forth  through  the  most  corrupted  of 
all  our  establishments ;  and  it  be  made  safe 
for  the  unguarded  young  to  officiate  in  its 
chambers ;  and  it  be  made  possible  to  enter 
upon  the  business  of  the  world  without  en- 
tering on  such  a  scene  of  temptation,  as  to 
render  almost  inevitable  the  vice  of  the 
world,  and  its  impiety,  and  its  final  and 
everlasting  condemnation?  Would  Chris- 
tians only  be  open  and  intrepid,  and  carry 
their  religion  into  their  merchandize;  and 


furnish  us  with  a  single  hundred  of  such 
houses  in  this  city,  where  the  care  and  cha 
racterof  the  master  formed  a  guarantee  for 
the  sobriety  of  all  his  dependents,  it  would 
be  like  the  clearing  out  of  a  piece  of  culti- 
vated ground  in  the  midst  of  a  frightful  wil- 
derness; and  parents  would  know  whither 
they  could  repair  with  confidence  for  the 
settlement  of  their  offspring ;  and  we  should 
behold,  what  is  mightily  to  be  desired,  a  line 
of  broad  and  visible  demarcation  between 
the  church  and  the  world  ;  and  an  interest 
so  precious  as  the  immortality  of  children, 
would  no  longer  be  left  to  the  play  of  such 
fortuitous  elements,  as  operated  at  random 
throughout  the  confused  mass  of  a  mingled 
and  indiscriminate  society.  And  thus,  the 
pieties  of  a  father's  house  might  bear  to  be 
transplanted  even  into  the  scenes  of  ordi- 
nary business ;  and  instead  of  withering,  as 
they  do  at  present,  under  a  contagion  which 
spreads  in  every  direction,  and  fills  up  the 
whole  face  of  the  community,  they  might 
flourish  in  that  moral  region  which  was  oc- 
cupied by  a  peculiar  people,  and  which  they 
had  reclaimed  from  a  world  that  lieth  in 
wickedness. 


DISCOURSE  VII. 

On  the  vitiating  Influence  of  the  higher  upon  the  lower  Orders  of  Society. 

"  Then  said  he  unto  the  disciples,  It  is  impossible  but  that  offences  will  come;  but  wo  unto  him  through 
whom  they  come !  It  were  better  for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and  he  cast  into 
the  sea,  than  that  he  should  offend  one  of  these  little  ones." — Luke  xvii.  1,  2. 


To  offend  another,  according  to  the  com- 
mon  acceptation  of   the  words,  is  to  dis- 

him. — Now,  this  is  not  its  accepta- 
tion in  the  verse  before  us,  nor  in  several 
other  verses  of  the  New  Testament.     It 

coming  nearer  to  the  scriptural 
ling  of  the  term,  had  we,  instead  of 
offence  and  offending,  adopted  the  terms, 
scandal  v.nd  scandalizing.  But  the  full  sig- 
nification of  the  phrase  to  offend  another, 
is  to  cause  him  to  fall  from  the  faith  and 
obedience  of  the  gospel.  It  may  be  such  a 
falling  away  as  that  a  man  recovers  him- 
self— like  t!ie  disciples,  who  were  all  of- 
fended in  Christ,  and  forsook  him ;  and, 
after  a  season  of  separation,  were  at  length 
re-established  in  their  discipleship. — Or  it 
may  be  such  a  falling  away  as  that  there 
is  no  recovery — like  those  in  the  gospel  of 
John,  who,  offended  by  the  sayings  of  our 
Saviour,  went  back,  and  walked  no  more 
with  him.  If  you  put  such  a  stumbling 
block  in  the  way  of  a  neighbour,  who  is 
walking  on  a  course  of  christian  disciple- 
ship, as  to  make  him  fall,  you  offend  him. 
It  is  in  this  sense  that  our  Saviour  uses 
21 


the  word,  when  he  speaks  of  your  own 
right  hand,  or  your  own  right  eye.  offend- 
ing you.  They  may  do  so,  by  giving  you  an 
occasion  to  fall. — And  what  is  here  trans- 
lated offend,  is,  in  the  first  epistle  to  the 
Corinthians,  translated  to  make  to  offend  ; 
where  Paul  says,  "  If  meat  make  my  bro- 
ther to  offend,  I  will  eat  no  more  flesh 
while  the  world  standeth,  lest  I  make  my 
brother  to  offend." 

The  little  ones  to  whom  our  Saviour  al- 
ludes, in  this  passage,  he  elsewhere  more 
fully  particularises,  by  telling  us,  that  they 
are  those  who  believe  in  him.  There  is  no 
call  here  for  entering  into  any  controversy 
about  the  doctrine  of  perseverance.  It  is 
not  necessary,  either  for  the  purpose  of 
explaining,  or  of  giving  force  to  the  practi- 
cal lesson  of  the  text  now  submitted  to 
you.  We  happen  to  be  as  much  satisfied 
with  the  doctrine,  that  he  who  hath  a  real 
faith  in  the  gospel  of  Christ  will  never  fall 
away,  as  we  arc  satisfied  with  the  truth  of 
any  identical  proposition.  If  a  professing 
disciple  do,  in  fact,  fall  away,  this  is  a 
phenomenon   which    might   be  traced   to 


102 


VITIATING  INFLUENCE  OF  HIGHER  UPON  LOWER  ORDERS. 


an  essential  defect  of  principle  at  the  first; 
which  proves,  in  fact,  that  he  made  the 
mistake  of  one  principle  for  another ;  and 
that,  while  he  thought  he  had  the  faith,  it 
was  not  that  very  faith  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament which  is  unto  salvation.  There 
might  have  been  the  semblance  of  a  work 
of  grace  without  its  reality.  Such  a  work 
if  genuinely  begun,  will  be  carried  on- 
wards even  unto  perfection.  But  this  is  a 
point  on  which  it  is  not  at  all  necessary,  at 
present,  to  dogmatize.  We  are  led,  by  the 
text,  to  expatiate  on  the  guilt  of  that  one 
man  who  has  wrecked  the  interest  of  an- 
other man's  eternity.  Now,  it  may  be  very 
true,  that  if  the  second  has  actually  en- 
tered within  the  strait  gate,  it  is  not  in  the 
power  of  the  first,  with  all  his  artifices, 
and  all  his  temptations,  to  draw  him  out 
again.  But  instead  of  having  entered  the 
gate,  he  may  only  be  on  the  road  that  leads 
to  it ;  and  it  is  enough,  amid  the  uncertain- 
ties which,  in  this  life,  hang  over  the  ques- 
tion of — who  are  really  believers,  and  who 
are  not  ?  that  it  is  not  known  in  which  of 
these  two  conditions  the  little  one  is ;  and 
that,  therefore,  to  seduce  him  from  obe- 
dience to  the  will  of  Christ,  may,  in  fact, 
be  to  arrest  his  progress  towards  Christ, 
and  to  draw  him  back  unto  the  perdition 
of  his  soul.  The  whole  guilt  of  the  text 
may  be  realized  by  him  who  keeps  back 
another  from  the  church,  where  he  might 
have  heard,  and  heard  with  acceptance,  that 
word  of  life  which  he  has  not  yet  accepted ; 
or  by  him,  whose  influence  or  whose  ex- 
ample detains,  in  the  entanglement  of  any 
one  sin,  the  acquaintance  who  is  meditating 
an  outset  on  the  path  of  decided  Christiani- 
ty— seeing,  that  every  such  outset  will  land 
in  disappointment  those  who,  in  the  act  of 
following  after  Christ,  do  not  forsake  all ; 
or  by  him  who  tampers  with  the  con- 
science of  an  apparently  zealous  and  con- 
firmed disciple,  so  as  to  seduce  him  into 
some  habitual  sin,  either  of  neglect  or  of 
performance — seeing,  that  the  individual 
who  but  for  this  seduction  might  have 
cleaved  fully  unto  the  Lord,  and  turned 
out  a  prosperous  and  decided  Christian, 
has  been  led  to  put  a  good  conscience 
away  from  him — and  so,  by  making  ship- 
wreck of  his  faith,  has  proved  to  the  world, 
that  it  was  not  the  faith  which  could  ob- 
tain the  victory.  It  is  true,  that  it  is  not 
possible  to  seduce  the  elect.  But  even  this 
suggestion,  perverse  and  unjust  as  it  would 
be  in  its  application,  is  not  generally  pre- 
sent to  the  mind  of  him  who  is  guilty  of 
the  attempt  to  seduce,  or  of  the  act  which 
carries  a  seducing  influence  along  with  it. 
The  guilt  with  which  he  is  chargeable,  is 
that  of  an  indifference  to  the  spiritual  and 
everlasting  fate  of  others.  He  is  wilfully 
the  occasion  of  causing  those  who  are  the 
little  ones,  or,  for  any  thing  he  knows, 


[disc. 


might  have  been  the  little  ones  of  Christ,  to 
fall ;  and  it  is  against  him  that  our  Saviour, 
in  the  text,  lifts  not  a  cool,  but  an  impas- 
sioned testimony.  It  is  of  him  that  he 
utters  one  of  the  most  severe  and  solemn 
denunciations  of  the  gospel. 

If  this  text  were  thoroughly  pursued 
into  its  manifold  applications,  it  would  be 
found  to  lay  a  weight  of  fearful  responsi- 
bility upon  us  all.  We  are  here  called 
upon  not  to  work  out  our  own  salvation, 
but  to  compute  the  reflex  influence  of  all 
our  works,  and  of  all  our  ways,  on  the 
principles  of  others.  And  when  one  thinks 
of  the  mischief  which  this  influence  might 
spread  around  it,  even  from  Christians  of 
chiefest  reputation :  when  one  thinks  of 
the  readiness  of  man  to  take  shelter  in  the 
example  of  an  acknowledged  superior; 
when  one  thinks  that  some  inconsistency 
of  ours  might  seduce  another  into  such  an 
imitation  as  overbears  the  reproaches  of 
his  own  conscience,  and  as,  by  vitiating 
the  singleness  of  his  eye,  makes  the  whole 
of  his  body,  instead  of  being  full  of  light, 
to  be  full  of  darkness ;  when  one  takes  the 
lesson  along  with  him  into  the  various  con- 
ditions of  life  he  may  be  called  by  Provi- 
dence to  occupy,  and  thinks,  that  if,  either 
as  a  parent  surrounded  by  his  family,  or  as 
a  master  by  the  members  of  his  establish- 
ment, or  as  a  citizen  by  the  many  observers 
of  his  neighbourhood  around  him,  he  shall 
either  speak  such  words,  or  do  such  ac- 
tions, or  administer  his  affairs  in  such  a 
way  as  is  unworthy  of  his  high  and  im- 
mortal destination,  that  then  a  taint  of  cor- 
ruption is  sure  to  descend  from  such  an 
exhibition,  upon  the  immortals  who  are  on 
every  side  of  him ;  when  one  thinks  of 
himself  as  the  source  and  the  centre  of  a 
contagion  which  might  bring  a  blight  upon 
the  graces  and  the  prospects  of  other  souls 
besides  his  own — surely  this  is  enough  to 
supply  him  with  a  reason  why,  in  work- 
ing out  his  own  personal  salvation,  be 
should  do  it  with  fear,  and  with  watchful- 
ness, and  with  much  trembling. 

But  we  are  now  upon  the  ground  of  a 
higher  and  more  delicate  conscientiousness, 
than  is  generally  to  be  met  with.  Whereas, 
our  object,  at  present,  is  to  expose  certain 
of  the  grosser  offences  which  abound  in  so- 
ciety, and  which  spiead  a  most  dangerous 
and  ensnaring  influence  among  the  indi- 
viduals who  compose  it.  To  this  we  have 
been  insensibly  led,  by  the  topics  of  that  dis- 
course which  we  addressed  to  you  on  a  for- 
mer occasion ;  and  when  it  fell  in  our  way 
to  animadvert  on  the  magnitude  of  that 
man's  guilt,  who,  either  by  his  example,  or 
his  connivance,  or  his  direct  and  formal 
tuition,  can  speed  the  entrance  of  the  yet 
unpractised  young  on  a  career  of  dissipa- 
tion. And  whether  he  be  a  parent,  who, 
trenched  in  this  world's  maxims,  can,  with- 


VITIATING  INFLUENCE  OF  HIGHER  UPON  LOWER  ORDERS. 


VII. j 


out  a  struggle,  and  without  a  sigh,  leave  his 
helpless  offspring  to  take  their  random  and 
unprotected  way  through  this  world's  con- 
formities ;  or  whether  he  be  one  of  those 
seniors  in  depravity,  who  can  cheer  on  his 
more  youthful  companion  to  a  surrender  of 
all  those  scruples,  and  all  those  delicacies, 
which  have  hitherto  adorned  him ;  or  whe- 
ther he  be  a  more  aged  citizen,  who,  having 
run  the  wonted  course  of  intemperance,  can 
cast  an  approving  eye  on  the  corruption 
throughout  all  its  stages,  and  give  a  tenfold 
force  to  all  its  allurements,  by  setting  up  the 
authority  of  grave  and  reformed  manhood 
upon  its  side ;  in  each  of  these  characters  do 
we  see  an  offence  that  is  pregnant  with 
deadliest  mischief  to  the  principles  of  the 
rising  generation  :  and  while  we  are  told  by 
our  text,  that,  for  such  offences,  there  exists 
some  deep  and  mysterious  necessity — inso- 
much, that  it  is  impossible  but  that  offences 
must  come — yet  let  us  not  forget  to  urge  on 
every  one  sharer  in  this  work  of  moral  con- 
tamination, that  never  does  the  meek  and 
gentle  Saviour  speak  in  terms  more  threat- 
ening or  more  reproachful,  than  when  he 
speaks  of  the  enormity  of  such  misconduct. 
There  cannot,  in  truth,  be  a  grosser  outrage 
committed  on  the  order  of  God's  administra- 
tion, than  that  which  he  is  in  the  habit  of 
inflicting.  There  cannot,  surely,  be  a  directer 
act  of  rebellion,  than  that  which  multiplies 
the  adherents  of  its  own  cause,  and  which 
swells  the  hosts  of  the  rebellious.  There 
cannot  be  made  to  rest  a  feller  condemna- 
tion on  the  head  of  iniquity,  than  that  which 
is  sealed  by  the  blood  of  its  own  victims,  and 
its  own  proselytes.  Nor  shoold  we  wonder 
when  that  is  said  of  such  an  agent  for  ini- 
quity which  is  said  of  the  betrayer  of  our 
Lord.  It  were  better  for  him  that  he  had  not 
been  born.  It  were  better  for  him,  now  that 
he  is  born,  could  he  be  committed  back  again 
to  deep  annihilation.  Rather  than  that  he 
should  offend  one  of  these  little  ones,  it  were 
better  for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged 
about  his  neck,  and  he  were  cast  into  the  sea. 
This  is  one  case  of  such  offences  as  are 
adverted  to  in  the  text.  Another  and  still 
more  specific  is  beginning,  we  understand, 
to  be  exemplified  in  our  own  city,  though  it 
has  not  attained  to  the  height  or  to  the  fre- 
quency at  which  it  occurs  in  a  neighbouring 
metropolis.  We  allude  to  the  doing  of  week- 
day business  upon  the  Sabbath.  We  allude 
to  that  violence  which  is  rudely  offered  to 
the  feelings  and  the  associations  of  sacred- 
ness,  by  those  exactions  that  an  ungodly 
master  lays  at  times  on  his  youthful  de- 
pendents— when  those  hours  which  they 
wont  to  spend  in  church,  they  are  called 
upon  to  spend  in  the  counting-house — when 
that  day,  which  ought  to  be  a  day  of  piety, 
is  turned  into  a  day  of  posting  and  of  pen- 
manship— when  the  rules  of  the  decalogue 
are  set  aside,  and  utterly  superseded  by  the 


II 


rules  of  the  great  trading  establishment;  and 
every  thing  is  made  to  give  way  to  the  hur- 
rying emergency  of  orders,  and  clearances, 
and  the  demands  of  instant  correspondence. 
Such  is  the  magnitude  of  this  stumbling- 
block,  that  many  is  the  young  man  who  has 
here  fallen  to  rise  no  more — that,  at  this 
point  of  departure,  he  has  so  widened  his 
distance  from  God,  as  never,  in  fact,  to  re- 
turn to  him — that,  in  this  distressing  contest 
between  principle  and  necessity,  the  final 
blow  has  been  given  to  his  religious  princi- 
ples— that  the  master  whom  he  serves,  and 
under  whom  he  earns  his  provision  for  time, 
has  here  wrested  the  whole  interests  of  his 
eternity  away  from  him — that,  from  this 
moment,  there  gathers  upon  his  soul  the 
complexion  of  a  hardier  and  more  deter- 
mined impiety — and  conscience  once  stifled 
now  speaks  to  him  with  a  feebler  voice — 
and  the  world  obtains  a  firmer  lodgement  in 
his  heart — and,  renouncing  all  his  original 
tenderness  about  Sabbath,  and  Sabbath  em- 
ployments, he  can  now,  with  the  thorough 
unconcern  of  a  fixed  and  familiarised  prose- 
lyte, keep  equal  pace  by  his  fellows  through- 
out every  scene  of  profanation — and  he  who 
wont  to  tremble  and  recoil  from  the  free- 
doms of  irreligion  with  the  sensibility  of  a 
little  one,  may  soon  become  the  most  dar- 
ingly rebellious  of  them  all — and  that  Sab- 
bath which  he  has  now  learned,  at  one  time, 
to  give  to  business,  he  at  another,  gives  to 
unhallowed  enjoyments— and  it  is  turned 
into  a  day  of  visits  and  excursions,  given  up 
to  pleasure,  and  enlivened  by  all  the  mirth 
and  extravagance  of  holiday — and,  when 
sacrament  is  proclaimed  from  the  city  pul- 
pits, he,  the  apt,  the  well  trained  disciple  of 
his  corrupt  and  corrupting  superior,  is  the 
readiest  to  plan  the  amusements  of  the  com- 
ing opportunity,  and  among  the  very  fore- 
most in  the  ranks  of  emigration — and  though 
he  may  look  back,  at  times,  to  the  Sabbath 
of  his  Father's  pious  house,  yet  the  retro- 
spect is  always  becoming  dimmer,  and  at 
length  it  ceases  to  disturb  him — and  thus  the 
alienation  widens  every  year,  till,  wholly 
given  over  to  impiety,  he  lives  without  God 
in  the  world. 

And  were  we  asked  to  state  the  dimen- 
sions of  that  iniquity  which  stalks  regard- 
lessly,  and  at  large,  over  the  ruin  of  youth- 
ful principles — were  we  asked  to  find  a  place 
in  the  catalogue  of  guilt  fur  a  crime,  the 
atrocity  of  which  is  only  equalled,  we  un- 
derstand, by  its  frequency — were  we  called 
to  characterise  the  man  who,  so  far  from 
attempting  one  counteracting  influence 
against  the  profligacy  of  his  dependents, 
issues,  from  the  chair  (if  authority  on  which 
he  sits,  a  commandment,  in  the  direct  face 
of  a  commandment  from  God — the  man 
who  has  chartered  impiety  in  articles  of 
agreement,  and  has  vested  himself  with  a 
property  in  that  time  which  only  belongs  to 


164 


VITIATING  INFLUENCE  OF  HIGHER  UPON  LOWER  ORDERS. 


[DISC. 


the  Lord  of  the  Sabbath— were  we  asked  to  |  such  a  proportionate  abatement  of  truth, 


look  to  the  man  who  could  thus  overbear 
the  last  remnants  of  remorse  in  a  struggling 
and  unpractised  bosom,  and  glitter  in  all  the 
ensigns  of  a  prosperity  that  is  reared  on  the 
violated  consciences  of  those  who  are  be- 
neath him— O!  were  the  question  put,  to 
whom  shall  we  liken  such  a  man  ?  or  what 
is  the  likeness  to  which  we  can  compare 
him  ?  we  would  say,  that  the  guilt  of  him 
who  trafficked  on  the  highway,  or  trafficked 
on  that  outraged  coast,  from  whose  weeping 
families  children  were  inseparably  torn,  was 
far  outmeasured  by  the  guilt  which  could 
thus  frustrate  a  father's  fondest  prayers,  and 
trample  under  foot  the  hopes  and  the  pre- 
parations of  eternity. 

There  is  another  way  whereby  in  the  em- 
ploy of  a  careless  and  unprincipled  master, 
it  is  impossible  but  that  offences  must  come. 
You  know  just  as  well  as  we  do,  that  there 
are  chicaneries  in  business;  and,  so  long  as 
we  forbear  stating  the  precise  extent  of 
them,  there  is  not  an  individual  among  you 
who  has  a  title  to  construe  the  assertion  into 
an  affronting  charge  of  criminality  against 
himself.  But  you  surely  know  as  well  as  we, 
that  the  mercantile  profession,  conducted,  as 
it  often  is,  with  the  purest  integrity,  and 
laying  no  resistless  necessity  whatever  for 
the  surrender  of  principle  on  any  of  its 
members;    and  dignified  by  some  of  the 
noblest  exhibitions  of  untainted  honour,  and 
devoted  friendship,  and  magnificent  gene- 
rosity, that  have  ever  been  recorded  of  our 
nature ;— you  know  as  well  as  we,  that  it 
was  utterly  extravagant,  and  in  the  face  of 
all  observation,  to  affirm,  that  each,  and 
every  one  of  its  numerous  competitors,  stood 
clearly  and  totally  exempted  from  the  sins 
of  an  undue  selfishness.    And,  accordingly, 
there  are   certain  commodious  falsehoods 
occasionally  practised  in  this  department  of 
human  affairs.  There  are,  for  example,  cer- 
tain dexterous  and  gainful  evasions,  whereby 
the  payers  of  tribute  are  enabled,  at  times, 
to  make  their  escape  from  the  eagle  eye  of 
the  exactors  of  tribute.  There  are  even  cer- 
tain contests  of  ingenuity  between  individual 
traders,  where  in  the  higgling  of  a  very  keen 
and  anxious  negociation,  each  of  them  is 
tempted  in  talking  of  offers  and  prices,  and 
the  reports  of  fluctuations  in   home   and 
foreign  markets,  to  say  the  things  which  are 
not.    You  must  assuredly  know,  that  these, 
and  such  as  these,  then,  have  introduced  a 
certain  quantity  of  what  may  be  called  shuf- 
fling, into  the  communications  of  the  trad- 
ing world— insomuch,  that  the  simplicity  of 
yea,  yea,  and  nay,  nay,  is  in  some  degree 
exploded ;  there  is  a  kind  of  understood  tole- 
ration established  for  certain  modes  of  ex- 
pression, which  could  not,  we  are  much 
afraid,  stand  the  rigid  scrutiny  of  the  great 


goes  to  extend  most  fearfully  the  condemna- 
tion that  is  due  to  all  liars,  who  shall  have 
their  part  in  the  lake  that  burnetii  with  fire 
and  brimstone.    And  who  can  compute  the 
effect  of  all  this  on  the  young  and  yet  un- 
practised observer?  Who  does  not  see,  that 
it  must  go  to  reduce  the  tone  of  his  princi- 
ples; and  to  involve  him  in  many  a  delicate 
struggle  between  the  morality  he  has  learned 
from  his  catechism,  and  the  morality  he  sees 
in  the  counting-house;  and  to  obliterate,  in 
his  mind,  the  distinctions  between  right  and 
wrong;  and,  at  length,  to  reconcile  his  con- 
science to  a  sin,  which,  like  every  other, 
deserves  the  wrath  and  the  curse  of  God; 
and  to  make  him  tamper  with  a  direct  com- 
mandment, in  such  a  way,  as  that  falsehoods 
and  frauds  might  be  nothing  more  in  his 
estimation,  than  the  peccadilloes  of  an  in- 
nocent compliance  with  the  current  prac- 
tices and  moralities  of  the  world  ?  Here  then 
is  a  point,  at  which  the  way  of  those  who 
conform  to  this  world,  diverges  from  the 
way  of  those  peculiar  people  who  are  re- 
deemed from  all  iniquity,  and  are  thorough- 
ly furnished  unto  all  good  works.  Here  is  a 
grievous  occasion  to  fall.     Here  is  a  com- 
petition between  the  service  of  God  and  the 
service  of  Mammon.    Here  is  the  exhibition 
of  another  offence,  and  the  bringing  forward 
of  another  temptation,  to  those  who  are  en- 
tering on  the  business  of  the  world,  little 
adverted  to,  we  fear,  by  those  who  live  in 
utter  carelessness  of  their  own  souls,  and 
never  spend  a  thought  or  a  sigh  about  the 
immortality  of  others — but  most  distinctly 
singled  out  by  the  text  as  a  crime  of  fore 
most  magnitude  in  the  eye  of  Him  who 
judgeth  righteously. 

And  before  we  quit  the  subject  of  such  • 
offences  as  take  place  in  ordinary  trade,  let 
us  just  advert  to  one  example  of  it — not  so 
much  for  the  frequency  of  its  occurrence, 
as  for  the  way  that  it  stands  connected  in 
principle  with  a  very  general,  and,  we  be- 
lieve, a  very  mischievous  offence,  that  takes 
place  in  domestic  society.  It  is  neither, 
you  will  observe,  the  avarice  nor  the  sel- 
fishness of  our  nature,  which  forms  the  only 
obstruction  in  the  way  of  one  man  dealing 
plainly  with  another.  There  is  another 
obstruction,  founded  on  a  far  more  pleasing 
and  amiable  principle — even  on  that  deli- 
cacy of  feeling,  in  virtue  of  which,  one  man 
cannot  bear  to  wound  or  to  mortify  another. 
It  would  require,  for  instance,  a  very  rare, 
and,  certainly,  not  a  very  enviable  degree 
of  hardihood,  to  tell  another,  without  pain, 
that  you  did  not  think  him  worthy  of  being 
trusted.  And  yet,  in  the  doings  of  mer- 
chandise, this  is  the  very  trial  of  delicacy 
which  sometimes  offers  itself.  The  man 
with  whom   you   stand  committed  to  as 


day;  and  there  is  an  abatement  of  confidence    great  an  extent  as  you  count  to  be  advi-» 
between  man  and  man,  implying,  we  doubt,  I  ble,  would  like,  perhaps,  to  try  your  conft 


VII.] 


VITIATING  INFLUENCE  OF  HIGHER  UPON  LOWER  ORDERS. 


165 


dence  in  him,  and  his  own  credit  with  you, 
;i  little  farther;  and  he  comes  back  upon 
you  with  a  fresh  order ;  and  you  secretly 
have  no  desire  to  link  any  more  of  your 
property  with  his  speculation ;  and  the  dif- 
ficulty is,  how  to  get  the  application  in 
question  disposed  of;  and  you  feel  that  by 
far  the  pleasantest  way,  to  all  the  parties 
concerned,  would  be,  to  make  him  believe 
that  you  refuse  the  application,  not  because 
you  will  not  comply,  but  because  you  can- 
not— for  that  you  have  no  more  of  the  ar- 
ticle he  wants  from  you  upon  hand.  And 
it  would  only  be  putting  your  own  soul  to 
hazard,  did  you  personally,  and  by  your- 
self, make  this  communication:  but  you 
select,  perhaps,  as  the  organ  of  it,  some 
agent  or  underling  of  your  establishment, 
who  knows  it  to  be  false;  and  to  avoid  the 
soreness  of  a  personal  encounter  with  the 
man  whom  you  are  to  disappoint,  you  de- 
volve the  whole  business  of  this  lying  apol- 
ogy upon  others ;  and  thus  do  you  continue 
to  shift  this  oppressive  burden  away  from 
you — or,  in  other  words,  to  save  your  own 
delicacy,  you  count  not,  and  you  care  not, 
about  another's  damnation. 

Now,  what  we  call  upon  you  to  mark,  is 
the  perfect  identity  of  principle  between 
this  case  of  making  a  brother  to  offend,  and 
another  case  which  obtains,  we  have  heard, 
to  a  very  great  extent,  among  the  most,  gen- 
teel and  opulent  of  our  city  families.  In 
this  case,  you  put  a  lie  into  the  mouth  of  a 
dependent,  and  that,  for  the  purpose  of 
protecting  your  substance  from  such  an 
application  as  might  expose  it  to  hazard 
or  diminution.  In  the  second  case,  you 
put  a  lie  into  the  mouth  of  a  dependent, 
and  that,  for  the  purpose  of  protecting 
your  time  from  such  an  encroachment 
as  you  would  not  feel  to  be  convenient 
or  agreeable.  And.  in  both  cases,  you 
are  led  to  hold  out  this  offence  by  a 
certain  delicacy  of  temperament,  in  vir- 
tue of  which,  you  can  neither  give  a  man 
plainly  to  understand,  that  you  are  not  wil- 
ling to  trust  him,  nor  can  you  give  him  to 
understand  that  you  count  his  company  to 
be  an  interruption.  But,  in  both  the  one 
and  the  other  example,  look  to  the  little 
account  thai  is  made  of  a  brother's  or  of  a 
sister's  eternity  ;  behold  the  guilty  task  that 
is  thus  unmercifully  laid  upon  one  who  is 
shortly  to  appear  before  the  judgment-seat 
of  Christ ;  think  of  the  entanglement  which 
is  thus  made  to  beset  the  path  of  a  creature 
who  is  unperishable.  That,  at  the  shrine 
of  Mammon,  sueh  a  bloody  sacrifice  should 
be  rendered  by  some  of  his  unrelenting  vo- 
taries, is  not  to  lie  wondered  at;  but  that 
the  shrine  of  elegance  and  fashion  should 
be  bathed  in  blood — that  soft  and  seutimen- 

i!  ladyship  should  put  forth  her  hand  to 
such  an  enormity — that  she  who  can  sigh 
bf>  gently,  and  shed  her  graceful  tear  over 


the  sufferings  of  others,  should  thus  be  ac- 
cessary to  the  second  and  more  awful  death 
of  her  own  domestics — that  one  who  looks 
the  mildest  and  the  loveliest  of  human  be- 
ings, should  exact  obedience  to  a  mandate 
which  carries  wrath,  and  tribulation,  and 
anguish,  in  its  train — 0 !  how  it.  should 
confirm  every  Christian  in  his  defiance  to 
the  authority  of  fashion,  and  lead  him  to 
spurn  at  all  its  folly,  and  at  all  its  worth- 
lessness. 

And  it  is  quite  in  vain  to  say,  that  the  ser- 
vant whom  yflu  thus  employ  as  the  deputy 
of  your  falsehood,  can  possibly  execute  the 
commission  without  the  conscience  being 
at  all  tainted  or  defiled  by  it ;  that  a  simple 
cottage  maid  can  so  sophisticate  the  matter, 
as,  without  any  violence  to  her  original 
principles,  to  utter  the  language  of  what 
she  assuredly  knows  to  be  a  downright  lie ; 
that  she,  humble  and  untutored  soul,  can 
sustain  no  injury  when  thus  made  to  tam- 
per with  the  plain  English  of  these  realms ; 
that  she  can  at  all  satisfy  herself,  how,  by 
the  prescribed  utterance  of  "  not  at  home," 
she  is  not  pronouncing  sueh  words  as  are 
substantially  untrue,  but  merely  using  them 
in  another  and  perfectly  understood  mean- 
ing— and  which,  according  to  their  modern 
translation,  denote,  that  the  person  of  whom 
she  is  thus  speaking,  instead  of  being  away 
from  home,  is  secretly  lurking  in  one  of  the 
most  secure  and  intimate  of  its  recepta- 
cles. You  may  try  to  darken  and  trans- 
form this  piece  of  casuistry  as  you  will ; 
and  work  up  your  own  minds  into  the  peace- 
able conviction  that  it  is  all  right,  and  as  it 
should  be.  Hut  be  very  certain,  that  where 
the  moral  sense  of  your  domestic  is  not  al- 
ready overthrown,  "there  is,  at  least  one  bo- 
som within  which  you  have  raised  a  war 
of  doubts  and  difficulties ;  and  where,  if  the 
victory  be  on  your  side,  it  will  be  on  the 
side  of  him  who  is  the  great  enemy  of  righ- 
teousness. There  is,  at  least,  one  person 
along  the  line  of  this  conveyance  of  deceit, 
who  condemneth  herself  in  that  which  she 
alloweth  ;  who,  in  the  language  of  Paul,  es- 
teeming the  practice  to  be  unclean,  to  her 
will  it  be  unclean;  who  will  perform  her  task 
with  the  offence  of  her  own  conscience 
and  to  whom,  therefore,  it  will  indeed  be 
evil:  who  cannot  render  obedience  in  this 
matter  to  her  earthly  superior,  but  by  an 
act,  in  which  she  does  not  stand  clear  and 
unconscious  of  guilt  before  God;  and  with 
whom,  therefore,  the  sad  consequence  of 
what  we  can  call  nothing  else  than  a  bar- 
barous combination  against  the  principles 
and  the  prospects  of  the  lower  orders,  is — 
thai  as  siie  lias  not  cleaved  fully  unto  the 
Lord,  and  has  not  kept  by  the  service  of 
the  one  master,  and  has  not  forsaken  all  at 
His  bidding,  she  cannot  be  the  disciple  of 
Christ. 

The  aphorism,  that  he  who  offendelh  in 


166 


VITIATING  INFLUENCE  OF  HIGHER  UPON  LOWER  ORDERS. 


[DISC* 


one  point  is  guilty  of  all,  tells  us  something 
more  than  of  the  way  in  which  God  ad- 
judges condemnation  to  the  disobedient. 
It  also  tells  us  of  the  way  in  which  one  in- 
dividual act  of  sinfulness  operates  upon  our 
moral  nature.  It  is  altogether  an  erroneous 
view  of  the  commandments,  to  look  upon 
them  as  so  many  observances  to  which  we 
are  bound  by  as  many  distinct  and  inde- 
pendent ties  of  obligation — insomuch,  that 
the  transgression  of  one  of  them  may  be 
brought  about  by  the  dissolution  of  one 
separate  tie,  and  may  leave  all  the  others, 
with  as  entire  a  constraining  influence  and 
authority  as  before.  The  truth  is,  that  the 
commandments  ought  rather  to  be  looked 
upon  as  branching  out  from  one  great  and 
general  tie  of  obligation ;  and  that  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  loosening  the  hold  of  one 
of  them  upon  the  conscience,  but  by  the 
unfastening  of  that  tie  which  binds  them  all 
upon  the  conscience.  So  that  if  one  mem- 
ber in  the  system  of  practical  righteousness 
be  made  to  suffer,  all  the  other  members 
suffer  along  with  it ;  and  if  one  decision  of 
the  moral  sense  be  thwarted,  the  organ  of 
the  moral  sense  is  permanently  impaired, 
and  a  leaven  of  iniquity  infused  into  all  its 
other  decisions ;  and  if  one  suggestion  of 
this  inward  monitor  be  stifled,  a  general 
shock  is  given  to  his  authority  over  the 
whole  man ;  and  if  one  of  the  least  com- 
mandments of  the  law  is  left  unfulfilled,  the 
law  itself  is  brought  down  from  its  rightful 
ascendency ;  and  thus  it  is,  that  one  act  of 
disobedience  may  be  the  commencement 
and  the  token  of  a  systematic  ana  universal 
rebelliousness  of  the  heart  against  God.  It 
is  this  which  gives  such  a  wide-wasting  ma- 
lignity to  each  of  the  separate  offences  on 
which  we  have  now  expatiated.  It  is  this 
which  so  multiplies  the  means  and  the  pos- 
sibilities of  corruption  in  the  world.  It  is 
thus  that,  at  every  one  point  in  the  inter- 
course of  human  society,  there  may  be 
struck  out  a  fountain  of  poisonous  emana- 
tion on  all  who  approach  it ;  and  think  not, 
therefore,  that  under  each  of  the  examples 
we  have  given,  we  were  only  contending 
for  the  preservation  of  one  single  feature  in 
the  character  of  him  who  stands  exposed  to 
this  world's  offences.  We  felt  it,  in  fact,  to 
be  a  contest  for  his  eternity;  and  that  the 
case  involved  in  it  his  general  condition 
with  God  ;  and  that  he  who  leads  the  young 
into  a  course  of  dissipation — or  that  he  who 
tampers  with  their  impressions  of  sabbath 
sacredness— or  that  he  who,  either  in  the 
walks  of  business,  or  in  the  services  of  the 
family,  makes  them  the  agents  of  deceitful- 
ness — or  that  he,  in  short,  who  tempts  them 
to  transgress  in  any  one  thing,  has,  in  fact, 
poured  such  a  pervading  taint  into  their 
moral  constitution,  as  to  spoil  or  corrupt 
them  in  all  things;  and  that  thus,  upon  one 
solitary  occasion,  or  by  the  exhibition  of  one 


particular  offence,  a  mischief  may  be  done 
equivalent  to  the  total  destruction  of  a  hu- 
man soul,  or  to  the  blotting  out  of  its  pros- 
pects for  immortality. 

And  let  us  just  ask  a  master  or  a  mistress, 
who  can  thus  make  free  with  the  moral 
principle  of  their  servants  in  one  instance, 
how  they  can  look  for  pure  or  correct  prin- 
ciple from  them  in  other  instances?  "What 
right  have  they  to  complain  of  unfaithful- 
ness against  themselves,  who  have  delibe- 
rately seduced  another  into  a  habit  of  un- 
faithfulness against  God  ?  Are  they  so  ut- 
terly unskilled  in  the  mysteries  of  our  na- 
ture, as  not  to  perceive,  that  if  a  man  gather 
hardihood  enough  to  break  the  Sabbath  in 
opposition  to  his  own  conscience,  this  very 
hardihood  will  avail  him  to  the  breaking  of 
other  obligations? — that  he  whom,  for  their 
advantage,  they  have  so  exercised,  as  to  fill 
his  conscience  with  offence  towards  his 
God,  will  not  scruple,  for  his  own  advan- 
tage, so  to  exercise  himself,  as  to  fill  his 
conscience  with  offence  towards  his  master? 
— that  the  servant  whom  you  have  taught 
to  lie,  has  gotten  such  rudiments  of  educa- 
tion at  your  hand,  as  that,  without  any  fur- 
ther help,  he  can  now  teach  himself  to  pur- 
loin?— and  yet  nothing  more  frequent  than 
loud  and  angry  complainings  against  the 
treachery  of  servants ;  as  if,  in  the  general 
wreck  of  their  other  principles,  a  principle 
of  consideration  for  the  good  and  interest  of 
their  employer — and  who,  at  the  same  time, 
has  been  their  seducer — was  to  survive  in 
all  its  power,  and  all  its  sensibility.  It  is 
just  such  a  retribution  as  was  to  be  looked 
for.  It  is  a  recoil  upon  their  own  heads  of 
the  mischief  which  they  themselves  have 
originated.  It  is  the  temporal  part  of  the 
punishment  which  they  have  to  hear  for  the 
sin  of  our  text,  but  not  the  whole  of  it ;  far 
the  better  for  them  that  both  person  and 
property  were  cast  into  the  sea,  than  that 
they  should  stand  the  reckoning  of  that  day, 
when  called  to  give  an  account  of  the  souls 
that  they  have  murdered,  and  the  blood  of 
so  mighty  a  destruction  is  required  at  their 
hands. 

The  evil  against  which  we  have  just  pro- 
tested, is  an  outrage  of  far  greater  enormity 
than  tyrant  or  oppressor  can  inflict,  in  the 
prosecution  of  his  worst  designs  against  the 
political  rights  and  liberties  of  the  common- 
wealth. The  very  semblance  of  such  de- 
signs will  summon  every  patriot  to  his  post 
of  observation ;  and,  from  a  thousand  watch- 
towers  of  alarm,  will  the  outcry  of  freedom 
in  danger  be  heard  throughout  the  land. 
But  there  is  a  conspiracy  of  a  far-more  ma- 
lignant influence  upon  the  destinies  of  the 
species  that  is  now  going  on ;  and  which 
seems  to  call  forth  no  indignant  spirit,  and 
to  bring  no  generous  exclamation  along 
with  it.  Throughout  all  the  recesses  of 
private  and  domestic  history,  there  is  an 


VII.] 


VITIATING  INFLUENCE  OF  HIGHER  UPON  LOWER  ORDERS. 


i >? 


ascendency  of  rank  and  station  against 
which  no  stern  republican  is  ever  heard  to 
lift  his  voice — though  it  be  an  ascendency 
so  exercised,  as  to  be  of  most  noxious  ope- 
ration to  the  dearest  hopes  and  best  interests 
of  humanity.  There  is  a  cruel  combination 
of  the  great  against  the  majesty  of  the  peo- 
ple— we  mean  the  majesty  of  the  people's 
worth.  There  is  a  haughty  unconcern  about 
an  inheritance,  which,  by  an  unalienable 
right,  should  be  theirs — we  mean  their  fu- 
ture and  everlasting  inheritance.  There  is 
a  deadly  invasion  made  on  their  rights — 
we  mean  their  rights  of  conscience ;  and, 
in  this  our  land  of  boasted  privileges,  are 
the  low  trampled  upon  by  the  high — we 
mean  trampled  into  all  the  degradation  of 
guilt  and  worth lessness.  They  are  utterly 
bereft  of  that  homage  which  ought  to  be 
rendered  to  the  dignity  of  their  immortal 
nature ;  and  to  minister  to  the  avarice  of 
an  imperious  master,  or  to  spare  the  sickly 
delicacy  of  the  fashionables  in  our  land,  are 
ruth  and  the  piety  of  our  population, 
and  all  the  virtues  of  their  eternity,  most 
unfeelingly  plucked  away  from  them.  It 
belongs  to  others  to  fight  the  battle  of  their 
privileges  in  time.  But  who  that  looks  with 
a  calculating  eye  on  their  duration  that 
never  ends,  can  repress  an  alarm  of  a  higher 
order  1  It  belongs  to  others  generously  to 
struggle  for  the  place  and  the  adjustment 
of  the  lower  orders  in  the  great  vessel  of 
the  state.  But,  surely,  the  question  of  their 
place  in  eternity  is  of  mightier  concern  than 
how  they  are  to  sit  and  be  accommodated 
in  that  pathway  vehicle  which  takes  them 
to  their  everlasting  habitations. 

Christianity  is,  in  one  sense,  the  greatest 
of  all  levellers.  It  looks  to  the  elements, 
and  not  to  the  circumstantials  of  humanity; 
and  regarding  a---  altogether  superficial  and 
temporary  the  distinctions  of  this  fleeting 
pilgrimage,  it  fastens  on  those  points  of  as- 

ttion  which  liken  the  king  upon  the 
throne  to  the  very  humblest  of  his  subject 
population.  They  are  alike  in  the  naked- 
ness of  their  birth.  They  are  alike  in  the 
sureness  of  their  decay.  They  are  alike  in 
s  of  their  dissolution.  And  after 
the  one  is  tombed  in  sepulchral  magnifi- 
sence  and  theother  is  laid  in  his  sod-wrapt 

.  are  they  most  fearfully  alike  in  the 
corruption  to  which  they  moulder.  But  it 
is  wit!)  the  immortal  nature  of  each  that 
f  Ihristianity  has  to  do;  and,  in  both  the  one 
and  the  ther,  does  it  behold  a  nature  alike 
forfeited  by  guilt,  and  alike  capable  of  being 
restored  by  the  grace  of  an  offered  salva- 
tion. And  never  do  the  pomp  and  the  cir- 
cumstance of  externals  appear  more  humi- 
liating, than  when,  looking  onwards  to  the 
day  of  resurrection,  we  behold  the  sovereign 
standing  without  his  crown,and  trembling, 
with  the  subject  by  his  side,  at  the  bar  of 
heaven's  majesty.     There  the  master  and 


the  servant  will  be  brought  to  their  reckon- 
ing together;  and  when  the  one  is  tried 
upon  the  guilt  and  the  malignant  iniluence 
of  his  Sabbath  companies— and  i-  charged 
with  the  profane  and  careless  habit  of  his 
household  establishment — and  is  reminded 
how  he  kept  both  himself  and  his  domes- 
tics from  thesolemn  ordinance — and  is  made 
to  perceive  the  fearful  extent  of  the  moral 
and  spiritual  mischief  which  he  lias  wrought 
as  the  irreligious  head  of  an  irreligious  fa- 
mily— and  how,  among  other  things  he,  un- 
der a  system  of  fashionable  hypocrisy,  so 
tampered  with  another's  principles  as  to  de- 
file his  conscience,  and  to  destroy  him — O  ! 
how  tremendously  will  the  little  brief  au- 
thority in  which  he  now  plays  his  fantastic 
tricks,  turn  to  his  own  condemnation ;  for, 
than  thus  abuse  his  authority,  it  were  bet- 
ter for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged 
about  his  neck,  and  he  were  cast  into  the. 
sea. 

And  how  comes  it,  we  ask,  that  any  mas- 
ter is  armed  with  a  power  so  destructive 
over  the  immortals  who  are  around  him  ? 
God  has  given  him  no  such  power:  The 
state  has  not  given  it  to  him.  There  is  no 
law,  either  human  or  divine,  by  which  he 
can  enforce  any  order  upon  his  servants  to 
an  act  of  falsehood,  or  to  an  act  of  impiety. 
Should  any  such  act  of  authority  be  at- 
tempted on  the  part  of  the  master,  it  should 
be  followed  up  on  the  part  of  tin-  servant. 
by  an  act  of  disobedience.  Should  your 
master  or  mistress  bid  you  say  not  at  home, 
when  you  know  that  they  are  at  home,  it 
is  your  duty  to  refuse  compliance  with  such 
an  order:  and  if  it  be  asked,  how  can  this 
matter  be  adjusted  after  such  a  violent  and 
alarming  innovation  on  the  laws  of  fashion- 
able intercourse,  we  answer,  just  by  the  sim- 
ple substitution  of  truth  for  falsehood — just 
by  prescribing  the  utterance  of,  engaged, 
which  is  a  fact,  instead  of  the  utterance  of, 
not  at  home,  which  is  a  lie — just  by  holding 
the  principles  of  your  servant  to  be  of  higher 
account  than  the  false  delicacies  of  your  ac- 
quaintance— just  by  a  bold  and  vigorous  re- 
currence to  the  simplicity  of  nature— just 
by  determinedly  doing  what  is  right,  though 
the  example  of  a  whole  host  were  against 
you ;  and  by  giving  impulse  to  the  current 
of  example,  when  it  happens  to  be  moving 
in  a  proper  direction.  And  here  we  are 
happy  to  sav  that  fashion  has  of  late  been 
making  a  capricious  and  accidental  move- 
ment on  the  side  of  principle — and  to  be 
blunt,  and  open,  and  manly,  is  now  on  the 
fair  way  to  be  fashionable — and  a  iemper 
of  a  homelier  quality  is  beginning  to  infuse 
itself  into  the  luxuriousness,  and  the  effemi- 
nacy, and  the  palling  and  excessive  complai- 
sance of  genteel  society — and  the  staple  of 
cultivated  manners  is  improving  in  firmness, 
and  frankness,  and  honesty,  and  may,  at 
length,  by  the  aid  of  a  principle  of  Chris- 


1G8 


VITIATING  INFLUENCE  OF  HIGHER  UPON  LOWER  ORDERS. 


[disc. 


tian  rectitude,  be  so  interwoven  with  the 
cardinal  virtues,  as  to  present  a  different 
texture  altogether  from  the  soft  and  silken 
degeneracy  of  modern  days. 

And  that  we  may  not  appear  the  cham- 
pions of  an  insurrection  against  the  autho- 
rity of  masters,  let  us  further  say,  that 
while  it  is  the  duty  of  clerk  or  apprentice  to 
refuse  the  doing  of  weekday  work  on  the  Sab- 
bath, and  while  it  is  the  duty  of  servants  to 
refuse  theutterance  of  aprescribed  falsehood, 
and  while  it  is  the  duty  of  every  dependent, 
in  the  service  of  his  master,  to  serve  him 
only  in  the  Lord — yet  this  very  principle, 
tending  as  it  may  to  a  rare  and  occasional 
act  of  disobedience,  is  also  the  principle 
which  renders  every  servant  who  adheres 
to  it  a  perfect  treasure  of  fidelity,  and  at- 
tachment, and  general  obedience.  This  is 
the  way  in  which  to  obtain  a  credit  for  his 
refusal,  and  to  stamp  upon  it  a  noble  con- 
sistency. In  this  way  he  will,  even  to  the 
mind  of  an  ungodly  master,  make  up  for 
all  his  particularities :  and  should  he  be 
what,  if  a  Christian,  he  will  be ;  should  he 
be,  at  all  times,  the  most  alert  in  service, 
and  the  most  patient  of  provocation,  and 
the  most  cordial  in  affection,  and  the  most 
scrupulously  honest  in  the  charge  and  cus- 
tody of  all  that  is  committed  to  him — then 
let  the  post  of  drudgery  at  which  he  toils 
be  humble  as  it  may,  the  contrast  between 
the  meanness  of  his  office  and  the  dignity 
of  his  character  will  only  heighten  the  re- 
verence that  is  due  to  principle,  and  make 
it  more  illustrious.  His  scruples  may,  at 
first,  be  the  topics  of  displeasure,  and  after- 
wards the  topics  of  occasional  levity ;  but, 
in  spite  of  himself,  will  his  employer  be  at 
length  constrained  to  look  upon  them  with 
respectful  toleration.  The  servant  will  be 
to  the  master  a  living  epistle  of  Christ,  and 
he  may  read  there  what  he  has  not  yet  per- 
ceived in  the  letter  of  the  New  Testament. 
He  may  read,  in  the  person  of  his  own  do- 
mestic, the  power  and  the  truth  of  Chris- 
tianity. He  may  positively  stand  in  awe 
of  his  own  hired  servant — and,  regarding 
his  bosom  as  a  sanctuary  of  worth  which  it 
were  monstrous  to  violate,  will  he  feel,  when 
tempted  to  offer  one  command  of  impiety, 
that  he  cannot,  that  he  dare  not. 

And  before  we  conclude,  let  us,  if  possi- 
hle,  try  to  rebuke  the  wealthy  out  of  their 
unfeeling  indifference  to  the  souls  of  the 
poor,  by  the  example  of  the  Saviour.  Let 
those  who  look  on  the  immortality  of  the 
poor  as  beneath  their  concern,  only  look 
unto  Christ — to  him  who,  for  the  sake  of 
the  poorest,  of  us  all,  became  poor  himself, 
that  we,  through  his  poverty,  might  be 
made  rich.  Let  them  think  how  the  prin- 
ciple of  all  these  offences  which  we  have 
been  attempting  to  expose,  is  in  the  direct 
face  of  that  principle  which  prompted,  at 
first,   and   which   still    presides   over;  the 


whole  of  the  gospel  dispensation.  Let  them 
learn  a  higher  reverence  for  the  eternity 
of  those  beneath  them,  by  thinking  of  him, 
who,  to  purchase  an  inheritance  for  the 
poor,  and  to  provide  them  with  the  bless- 
ings of  a  preached  gospel,  unrobed  him  of 
all  his  greatness;  and  descended  himself 
to  the  lot  and  labours  of  poverty ;  and  toiled, 
to  the  beginning  of  his  public  ministry,  at 
the  work  of  a  carpenter  ;  and  submitted  to 
all  the  horrors  of  a  death  which  was  aggra- 
vated by  the  burden  of  a  world's  atone- 
ment, and  made  inconceivably  severe  by 
their  being  infused  into  it  all  the  bitter  of 
expiation.  Think,  O  think,  when  some  petty 
design  of  avarice  or  vanity  would  lead  you 
to  forget  the  imperishable  souls  of  those 
who  are  beneath  you,  that  you  are  setting 
yourselves  in  diametric  opposition  to  that 
which  lieth  nearest  to  the  lit  art  of  the  Sa- 
viour ;  that  you  are  countervailing  the  whole 
tendency  of  his  redemption  ;  that  you  are 
thwarting  the  very  object  of  that  enterprise 
for  which  all  heaven  is  represented  as  in 
motion — and  angels  are  with  wonder  look- 
ing on — and  God  the  Father  laid  an  ap- 
pointment on  the  Son  of  his  love — and  he, 
the  august  personage  in  whom  the  mag- 
nificent train  of  prophecy,  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  world,  has  its  theme  and  its 
fulfilment,  at  length  came  amongst  us,  in 
shrouded  majesty,  and  was  led  to  the  cross, 
like  a  lamb  for  the  slaughter,  and  bowed 
his  head  in  agony,  and  gave  up  the  ghost. 

And  here  let  us  address  one  word  more 
to  the  masters  and  mistresses  of  families. 
By  adopting  the  reformations  to  which  we 
have  been  urging  you,  you  may  do  good 
to  the  cause  of  Christianity,  and  yet  not  ad- 
vance, by  a  single  hair-breadth,  the  Chris- 
tianity of  your  own  souls.  It  is  not  by  this 
one  reformation,  or  indeed,  by  any  given 
number  of  reformations,  that  you  are  saved. 
Itisby  believing  in  Christ  that  men  are  saved. 
You  may  escape,  it  is  sure,  a  higher  degree 
of  punishment,  but  you  will  not  escape 
damnation.  You  may  do  good  to  the  souls 
of  your  servants,  by  a  rigid  observance  of 
the  lesson  of  this  day.  But  we  seek  the 
good  of  your  own  souls,  also,  and  we  pro- 
nounce upon  them  that  they  are  in  a  state 
of  death,  till  one  great  act  be  performed, 
and  one  act,  too,  which  does  not  consist  of 
any  number  of  particular  acts,  or  particular 
reformations.  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved? 
Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou 
shalt  be  saved.  And  he  who  belieyeth  not, 
the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him.  Do  this, 
if  you  want  to  make  the  great  and  impor- 
tant transition  for  yourselves.  Do  this  if 
you  want  your  own  name  to  be  blotted 
out  of  the  book  of  condemnation.  If  you 
seek  to  have  your  own  persons  justified 
before  God,  submit  to  the  righteousness  of 
God — even  that  righteousness  which  is 
through  the  faith  of  Christ,  and  is  unto  alj 


VIII.] 


ON  THE  LOVE  OF  MONEY. 


1G9 


and  upon  all  who  believe.  This  is  the  turn- 
ing point  of  your  acceptance  with  the  Law- 
giver. And  at  this  step,  also,  in  the  history 
of  your  souls,  will  there  be  applied  to 
you  a  power  of  motive,  and  will  you  be  en- 
dowed with  an  obedient  sensibility  to  the 
influence  of  motive,  which  will  make  it  the 
turning  point  of  a  new  heart  and  a  new 


character.  The  particular  reformation  that 
we  have  now  been  urging  will  be  one  of  a 
crowd  of  other  reformations ;  and,  in  the 
spirit  of  him  who  pleased  not  himself,  but 
gave  up  his  life  for  others,  will  you  forego 
all  the  desires  of  selfishness  and  vanity,  and 
look  not  merely  to  your  own  things,  but 
also  to  the  things  of  others. 


DISCOURSE  VIII. 

On  the  Love  of  Money. 

'■  If  I  have  made  gold  my  hope,  or  have  said  to  the  fine  gold,  Thou  art  my  confidence ;  If  I  rejoiced  because 

my  wealth  was  great,  and  because  mine  hand  had  gotten  much  :  If  I  beheld  the  sun  when  it  shined  or 

the  moon  walking  in  brightness;  and  my  heart  hath  been  secretly  enticed,  or  my  mouth  hath  kissed  my 

hand  ;  this  also  were  an  iniquity  to  be  punished  by  the  judge  ;  for  I  should  have  denied  the  God  that  is 

,,    above." — Job  xxxi.  24 — 28. 


What  is  worthy  of  remark  in  this  pas- 
sage is,  that  a  certain  affection  only  known 
among  the  votaries  of  Paganism,  should 
be  classed  under  the  same  character  and 
have  the  same  condemnation  with  an  affec- 
tion, not  only  known,  but  allowed,  nay 
cherished  into  habitual  supremacy,  all  over 
Christendom.  How  universal  is  it  among 
those  who  are  in  pursuit  of  wealth,  to 
make  gold  their  hope,  and  among  those 
who  are  in  possession  of  wealth,  to  make 
fine  gold  their  confidence  ?  Yet  we  are  here 
told  that  this  is  virtually  as  complete  a  re- 
nunciation of  God  as  to  practise  some  of 
the  worst  charms  of  idolatry.  And  it  might 
perhaps  serve  to  unsettle  the  vanity  of  those 
who,  unsuspicious  of  the  disease  that  is  in 
their  hearts,  are  wholy  given  over  to  this 
world,  and  wholly  without  alarm  in  their 
anticipations  of  another, — could  we  con- 
vince them  that  the  most  reigning  and  re- 
sistless desire  by  which  they  are  actuated, 
stamps  the  same  perversity  on  them,  in  the 
sight  of  God,  as  he  sees  to  be  in  those  who 
are  worshippers  of  the  sun  in  the  firma- 
ment, or  are  offering  incense  to  the  moon, 
as  the  queen  <>f  heaven. 

We  recoil  from  an  idolater,  as  from  one 
who  labours  under  a  great  moral  derange- 
ment, in  suffering  his  regards  to  be  carried 
away  from  the  true  God  to  an  idol.  But, 
is  it  not  just  the  same  derangement,  on  the 
,part  of  man,  that  he  should  love  any  cre- 
/ated  good,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  it  lose 
sight  of  the  Creator — that  he  should  delight 
himself  with  the  use  and  the  possession  of 
a  gift,  and  be  unaffected  by  the  circum- 
stance of  its  having  been  put  into  his  hands 
by  a  giver — that  thoroughly  absorbed  with 
the  present  and  the  sensible  gratification, 
there  should  be  no  room  left  for  the  move- 
ments of  duty  or  regard  to  the  Being  who 
furnished  him  with  the  materials,  and  en- 
22 


dowed  him  with  the  organs,  of  every  grati- 
fication,— that  he  should  thus  lavish  all  his 
desires  on  the  surrounding  materialism, 
and  fetch  from  it  all  his  delights,  while  thei 
thought  of  him  who  formed  it  is  habitually 
absent  from  his  heart — that  in  the  play 
of  those  attractions  that  subsist  between 
him  and  the  various  objects  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  his  person,  there  should  be  the 
same  want  of  reference  to  God,  as  there  is 
in  the  play  of  those  attractions  which  sub- 
sist between  a  piece  of  unconscious  matter 
and  the  other  matter  that  is  around  it — 
that  all  the  influences  which  operate  upon 
the  human  will  should  emanate  from  so 
many  various  points  in  the  mechanism  of 
what  is  formed,  but  that  no  practical  or 
ascendant  influence  should  come  down 
upon  it  from  the  presiding  and  the  preserv- 
ing Deity  ?  Why,  if  such  be  man,  he  could 
not  be  otherwise,  though  there  were  no 
Deity.  The  part  he  sustains  in  the  world 
is  the  very  same  that  it  would  have  been 
had  the  world  sprung  into  being  of  itself, 
or  without  an  originating  mind  had  main- 
tained its  being  from  eternity.  He  just  puts 
forth  the  evolutions  of  his  own  nature,  as 
one  of  the  component  individuals  in  a  vast 
independent  system  of  nature,  made  up  of 
many  parts  and  many  individuals.  In  hun- 
gering for  what  is  agreeable  to  his  senses, 
or  recoiling  from  what  is  bitter  or  unsuit- 
able to  them,  he  does  so  without  thinking 
of  God,  or  borrowing  any  impulse  to  his 
own  will  from  any  thing  he  knows  or*be- 
lieves  to  be  the  will  of  God.  Religion  has 
just  as  little  to  do  with  those  daily  move- 
ments of  his  which  are  voluntary,  as  it  has 
to  do  with  the  growth  of  his  body,  which 
is  involuntary ;  or,  as  it  has  to  do,  in  other 
words,  with  the  progress  and  the  pheno- 
mena of  vegetation.  With  a  mind  that 
ought  to  know  God,  and  a  conscience  that 


170 


ON  THE  LOVE  OF  MONEY. 


[PISD. 


ought  to  award  to  him  the  supreme  juris- 
diction, he  lives  as  effectually  without  him 
as  if  he  had  no  mind  and  no  conscience  ; 
and,  bating  a  few  transient  visitations  of 
thought,  and  a  few  regularities  of  outward 
and  mechanical  observation,  do  we  behold 
man  running,  and  willing,  and  preparing, 
and  enjoying,  just  as  if  there  was  no  other 
portion  than  the  creature — just  as  if  the 
world,  and  its  visible  elements,  formed  the 
all  with  which  he  had  to  do. 

I  wish  to  impress  upon  you  the  distinc- 
tion that  there  is  between  the  love  of  mo- 
ney, and  the  love  of  what  money  pur- 
chases. Either  of  these  affections  may 
equally  displace  God  from  the  heart.  But 
there  is  a  malignity  and  an  inveteracy  of 
atheism  in  the  former  which  does  not  be- 
long to  the  latter,  and  in  virtue  of  which  it 
may  be  seen  that  the  love  of  money  is,  in- 
deed, the  root  of  all  evil. 

When  we  indulge  the  love  of  that  which 
is  purchased  by  money,  the  materials  of 
gratification  and  the  organs  of  gratification 
are  present  with  each  other — just  as  in  the 
enjoyments  of  the  inferior  animals,  and 
just  as  in  all  the  simple  and  immediate  en- 
joyments of  man ;  such  as  the  tasting  of 
food,  or  the  smelling  of  a  flower.  There 
is  an  adaptation  of  the  senses  to  certain 
external  objects,  and  there  is  a  pleasure 
arising  out  of  that  adaptation,  and  it  is  a 
pleasure  which  may  be  felt  by  man,  along 
with  a  right  and  a  full  infusion  of  godli- 
ness. The  primitive  Christians,  for  exam- 
ple, ate  their  meat  with  gladness  and  sin- 
gleness of  heart,  praising  God.  But,  in  the 
case  of  every  unconverted  man,  the  plea- 
sure has  no  such  accompaniment.  He  car- 
ries in  his  heart  no  recognition  of  that 
hand,  by  the  opening  of  which  it  is,  that 
the  means  and  the  materials  of  enjoyment 
are  placed  within  his  reach.  The  matter 
of  the  enjoyment  is  all  with  which  he  is 
conversant.  The  Author  of  the  enjoyment 
is  unheeded.  The  avidity  with  which  he 
rushes  onward  to  any  of  the  direct  gratifi- 
cations of  nature,  bears  a  resemblance  to 
the  avidity  with  which  one  of  the  lower 
creation  rushes  to  its  food,  or  to  its  water, 
or  to  the  open  field,  where  it  gambols  in 
all  the  wantonness  of  freedom,  and  finds 
a  high-breathed  joy  in  the  very  strength 
and  velocity  of  its  movements.  And  the 
atheism  of  the  former,  who  has  a  mind  for 
the  sense  and  knowledge  of  his  Creator,  is 
often  as  entire  as  the  atheism  of  the  latter, 
who  has  it  not.  Man,  who  ought  to  look 
to  the  primary  cause  of  all  his  blessings, 
because  he  is  capable  of  seeing  thus  far,  is 
often  as  blind  to  God,  in  the  midst  of  en- 
ioyment,  as  the  animal  who  is  not  capable 
of  seeing  him.  He  can  trace  the  stream  to 
its  fountain;  but  still  he  drinks  of  the 
stream  with  as  much  greediness  of  plea- 
sure, and  as  little  recognition  of  its  source, 


as  the  animal  beneath  him.  In  other  words, 
his  atheism,  while  tasting  the  bounties  of 
Providence,  is  just  as  complete,  as  is  the 
atheism  of  the  inferior  animals.  But  theirs 
proceeds  from  their  incapacity  of  knowing 
God.  His  proceeds  from  his  not  liking  to 
retain  God  in  his  knowledge.  He  may 
come  under  the  power  of  godliness,  if  he 
would.  But  he  chooses  rather  that  the 
power  of  sensuality  should  lord  it  over 
him,  and  his  whole  man  is  engrossed  with 
the  objects  of  sensuality. 

But  a  man  differs  from  an  animal  in  be- 
ing something  more  than  a  sensitive  being. 
He  is  also  a  reflective  being.  He  has  the 
power  of  thought,  and  inference,  and  anti- 
cipation, to  signalize  him  above  the  beasts 
of  the  field,  or  of  the  forest ;  and  yet  will 
it  be  found,  in  the  case  of  every  natural 
man,  that  the  exercise  of  those  powers,  so 
far  from  having  carried  him  nearer,  has 
only  widened  his  departure  from  God,  and 
given  a  more  deliberate  and  wilful  charac- 
ter to  his  atheism,  than  if  he  had  been  with- 
out them  altogether. 

In  virtue  of  the  powers  of  a  mind  which 
belong  to  him,  he  can  carry  his  thoughts 
beyond  the  present  desires  and  the  pre- 
sent gratification.  He  can  calculate  on  the 
visitations  of  future  desire,  and  on  the 
means  of  its  gratification.  He  cannot 
only  follow  out  the  impulse  of  hunger  that 
is  now  upon  him  ;  he  can  look  onwards  to 
the  successive  and  recurring  impulses  of 
hunger  which  await  him,  and  he  can  de- 
vise expedients  for  relieving  it.  Out  of  that 
great  stream  of  supply,  which  comes  direct 
from  Heaven  to  earth,  for  the  sustenance 
of  all  its  living  generations,  he  can  draw  oft 
and  appropriate  a  separate  rill  of  convey- 
ance, and  direct  it  into  a  reservoir  for  him- 
self. He  can  enlarge  the  capacity,  or  he 
can  strengthen  the  embankments  of  this 
reservoir.  By  doing  the  one,  he  augments 
his  proportion  of  this  common  tide  of 
wealth  which  circulates  through  the  world, 
and  by  doing  the  other,  he  augments  his 
security  for  holding  it  in  perpetual  posses- 
sion. The  animal  who  drinks  out  of  the 
stream  thinks  not  whence  it  issues.  But 
man  thinks  of  the  reservoir  which  yields 
to  him  his  portion  of  it.  And  he  looks  no 
further.  He  thinks  not  that  to  fill  it,  there 
must  be  a  great  and  original  fountain,  out 
of  which  there  issueth  a  mighty  flood  of 
abundance  for  the  purpose  of  distribution 
among  all  the  tribes  and  families  of  the 
world.  He  stops  short  at  the  secondary 
and  artificial  fabric  which  he  himself  hath 
formed,  and  out  of  which,  as  from  a  spring, 
he  draws  his  own  peculiar  enjoyments ; 
and  never  thinks  either  of  his  own  pecu- 
liar supply,  fluctuating  with  the  variations 
of  the  primary  spring,  or  of  connecting 
these  variations  with  the  will  of  the  great 
but  unseen  director  of  all  things.    It  is  true, 


VIII.J 


ON  THE  LOVE  OF  MONEY. 


171 


that  if  this  main  and  originating  fountain 
be,  at  any.  time,  leas  copious  in  its  emis- 
sion, he  will  have  less  to  draw  from  it  to 
his  own  reservoir;  and  in  that  very  pro- 
portion will  his  share  of  the  bounties  of 
Providence  be  reduced.  But  still  it  is  to 
the  well,  or  receptacle,  of  his  own  striking 
out  that  he  looks,  as  his  maiil  security  for 
the  relief  of  nature's  wants,  and  the  abun- 
dant supply  of  nature's  enjoyments.  It  is 
upon  Ins  own  work  that  he  depends  in  this 
matter,  and  not  on  the  work  or  the  will  of 
him  who  is  the  author  of  nature;  who 
giveth  rain  from  heaven,  and  fruitful  sea- 
sons, and  filleth  every  heart  with  food  and 
gladness.  And  thus  it  is,  that  the  reason 
of  man,  and  the  retrospective  power  of 
man,  still  fail  to  carry  him,  by  an  ascend- 
ing process  to  the  First  Cause.  He  stops 
at  the  instrumental  cause,  which,  by  his 
own  wisdom  and  his  own  power,  he  has 
put  into  operation.  In  a  word,  the  man's 
understanding  is  over-run  with  atheism,  as 
well  as  his  desires.  The  intellectual  as  well 
as  the  sensitive  part  of  his  constitution 
seems  to  be  infected  with  it.  When,  like 
the  instinctive  and  unreflecting  animal,  he 
engages  in  the  act  of  direct  enjoyment,  he 
is  like  it,  too,  in  its  atheism.  When  he 
rises  above  the  animal,  and,  in  the  exercise 
of  his  higher  and  larger  faculties,  he  en- 
gages in  the  act  of  providing  for  enjoyment, 
he  still  carries  his  atheism  along  with  him. 

A  sum  of  money  is,  in  all  its  functions, 
equivalent  to  such  a  reservoir.  Take  one 
year  with  another,  and  the  annual  con- 
sumption of  the  world  cannot  exceed  the 
annual  produce  which  issues  from  the 
storehouse  of  him  who  is  the  great  and  the 
bountiful  Provider  of  all  its  families.  The 
money  that  is  in  any  man's  possession  re- 
presents the  share  which  he  can  appro- 
priate to  himself  of  this  produce.  If  it  be 
a  large  sum  it  is  like  a  capacious  reservoir 
on  the  bank  of  the  river  of  abundance.  If 
it  be  laid  out  on  firm  and  stable  securities, 
still  it  is  like  a  firmly  embanked  reservoir. 
The  man  who  toils  to  increase  his  money 
is  like  a  man  who  toils  to  enlarge  the  ca- 
pacity of  his  reservoir.  The  man  who  sus- 
pects a  flaw  in  his  securities,  or  who  appre- 
hends, in  the  report  of  failures  and  fluctua- 
tions, that  his  money  is  all  to  flow  away 
from  him,  is  like  a  man  who  apprehends  a 
flaw  in  the  embankments  of  his  reservoir. 

Meanwhile,  in  all  the  care  that  is  thus 
expended,  either  on  the  money  or  on  the 
magazine,  the  originating  source,  out  of 
which  there  is  imparted  to  the  one  all  its 
real  worth,  or  there  is  imparted  to  the  other 
all  its  real  fulness,  is  scarcely  ever  thought 
of.  Let  God  turn  the  earth  into  a  barren 
desert,  and  the  money  ceases  to  be  con- 
vertible to  any  purpose  of  enjoyment;  or 
let  him  lock  up  that  magazine  of  great  and 
general  supply,  out  of  which  he  showers 


abundance  among  our  habitations,  and  ah 
the  subordinate  magazines  formed  beside 
the  wonted  stream  of  liberality,  would  re 
main  empty.  But  all  this  is  forgotten  by  the 
vast  majority  of  our  unthoughtful  and  un- 
reflecting species.  The  patience  of  God  is 
still  unexhausted  ;  and  the  seasons  still  roll 
in  kindly  succession  over  the  heads  of  an 
ungrateful  generation ;  and  that  period, 
when  the  machinery  of  our  present  sys- 
tem shall  stop  and  be  taken  to  pieces  has 
not  yet  arrived ;  and  that  Spirit,  who  will 
not  always  strive  with  the  children  of  men, 
is  still  prolonging  his  experiment  on  the 
powers  and  perversities  of  our  moral  na- 
ture ;  and  still  suspending  the  edict  of  dis- 
solution, by  which  this  earth  and  these 
heavens  are  at  length  to  pass  away.  So 
that  the  sun  still  shines  upon  us ;  and  the 
clouds  still  drop  upon  us ;  and  the  earth 
still  puts  forth  the  bloom  and  the  beauty 
of  its  luxuriance  ;  and  all  the  ministers  of 
heaven's  liberality  still  walk  their  annual 
round,  and  scatter  plenty  over  the  face  of 
an  alienated  world;  and  the  whole  of  na- 
ture continues  as  smiling  in  promise,  and 
as  sure  in  fulfilment,  as  in  the  days  of  our 
forefathers ;  and  out  of  her  large  and  uni- 
versal granary  is  there,  in  every  returning 
year,  as  rich  a  conveyance  of  aliment  as  be- 
fore, to  the  populous  family  in  whose  be- 
half it  is  opened.  But  it  is  the  business  of 
many  among  that  population,  each  to  erect 
his  own  separate  granary,  and  to  replenish 
it  out  of  the  general  store,  and  to  feed  him- 
self and  his  dependants  out  of  it.  And  he 
is  right  in  so  doing.  But  he  is  not.  right 
in  looking  to  his  own  peculiar  receptacle, 
as  if  it  were  the  first  and  the  emanating 
fountain  of  all  his  enjoyments.  He  is  not 
right  in  thus  idolising  the  work  of  his  own 
hands — awarding  no  glory  and  no  confi- 
dence to  him  in  whose  hands  is  the  key 
of  that  great  storehouse,  out  of  which 
every  lesser  storehouse  of  man  derives  its 
fulness.  He  is  not  right,  in  labouring  after 
the  money  which  purchaseth  all  things,  to 
avert  the  earnestness  of  his  regard  from 
the  Being  who  provides  all  things.  He  is 
not  right,  in  thus  building  his  security  on 
that  which  is  subordinate,  unheeding  and 
unmindful  of  him  who  is  supreme.  It  is 
not  right,  that  silver,  and  gold,  though  un- 
shaped  into  statuary,  should  still  be  doing, 
in  this  enlightened  land,  what  the  images 
of  Paganism  once  did.  It  is  not  ri^lit,  that 
they  should  thus  supplant  the  deference 
which  is  owing  to  the  God  and  the  governor 
of  all  things — or  that  each  man  amongst 
us  should  in  the  secret  homage  of  trust  and 
satisfaction  which  he  renders  to  his  bills, 
and  his  deposits,  and  his  deeds  of  property 
and  possession,  endow  these  various  arti- 
cles with  the  same  moral  ascendency  over 
his  heart,  as  the  household  gods  of  anti- 
quity had  over  the  idolaters  of  antiquity — 


172 


ON  THE  LOVE  OF  JUONEY. 


[disc. 


making  them  as  effectually  usurp  the 
place  of  the  Divinity,  and  dethrone  the 
one  Monarch  of  heaven  and  earth  from 
that  pre-eminence  of  trust  and  of  affection 
that  belongs  to  him. 

He  who  makes  a  god  of  his  pleasure, 
renders  to  this  idol  the  homage  of  his 
senses.  He  who  makes  a  god  of  his  wealth, 
renders  to  this  idol  the  homage  of  his 
mind ;  and  he,  therefore,  of  the  two,  is  the 
more  hopeless  and  determined  idolater. 
The  former  is  goaded  on  to  his  idolatry, 
by  the  power  of  appetite.  The  latter  cul- 
tivates his  with  wilful  and  deliberate  per- 
severance; consecrates  his  very  highest 
powers  to  its  service ;  embarks  in  it,  not 
with  the  heat  of  passion,  but  with  the 
coolness  of  steady  and  calculating  princi- 
ple; fully  gives  up  his  reason  and  his  time, 
and  all  the  faculties  of  his  understanding, 
as  well  as  all  the  desires  of  his  heart,  to 
the  great  object  of  a  fortune  in  this  world; 
makes  the  acquirement  of  gain  the  settled 
aim,  and  the  prosecution  of  that  aim  the 
settled  habit  of  his  existence;  sits  the 
whole  day  long  at  the  post  of  his  ardent 
and  unremitting  devotions ;  and,  as  he  la- 
bours at  the  desk  of  his  counting-house, 
has  his  soul  just  as  effectually  seduced 
from  the  living  God  to  an  object  distinct 
from  him,  and  contrary  to  him,  as  if  the 
ledger  over  which  he  was  bending  was  a 
book  of  mystical  characters,  written  in  ho- 
nour of  some  golden  idol  placed  before 
him,  and  with  a  view  to  render  this  idol 
propitious  to  himself  and  to  his  family. 
Baal  and  Moloch  were  not  more  substan- 
tially the  gods  of  rebellious  Israel,  than 
Mammon  is  the  god  of  all  his  affections. 
To  the  fortune  he  has  reared,  or  is  rearing, 
for  himself  and  his  descendants,  he  ascribes 
all  the  power  and  all  the  independence  of 
a  divinity.  With  the  wealth  he  has  gotten 
by  his  own  hands,  does  he  feel  himself  as 
independent  of  God,  as  the  Pagan  does, 
who,  happy  in  the  fancied  protection  of  an 
image  made  with  his  own  hands,  suffers  no 
disturbance  to  his  quiet,  from  any  thought 
of  the  real  but  the  unknown  Deity.  His 
confidence  is  in  his  treasure,  and  not  in 
God.  It  is  there  that  he  places  all  his 
safety  and  all  his  sufficiency.  It  is  not  on 
the  Supreme  Being,  conceived  in  the  light 
of  a  real  and  a  personal  agent,  that  he 
places  his  dependence.  It  is  on  a  mute 
and  material  statue  of  his  own  erection.  It 
is  wealth,  which  stands  to  him  in  the 
place  of  God — to  which  he  awards  the 
credit  of  all  his  enjoyments — which  he 
looks  to  as  the  emanating  fountain  of  all 
his  present  sufficiency — from  which  he 
gathers  his  fondest  expectations  of  all  the 
bright  and  fancied  blessedness  that  is  yet 
before  him — on  which  he  rests  as  the  firm- 
est and  stablest  foundation  of  all  that  the 
heart  can  wish  or  the  eye  can  long  after, 


both  for  himself  and  for  his  children.  It 
matters  not  for  him,  that  all  his  enjoyment 
comes  from  a  primary  fountain,  and  that 
his  wealth  is  only  an  intermediate  reservoir. 
It  matters  not  to  him,  that,  if  God  were  to 
set  a  seal  upon  the  upper  storehouse  in 
heaven,  or  to  blast  and  to  burn  up  all  the 
fruitfulness  of  earth,  he  would  reduce,  to 
the  worthlessness  of  dross,  all  the  silver 
and  the  gold  that  abound  in  it.  Still  the 
gold  and  the  silver  are  his  gods.  His  own 
fountain  is  between  him  and  the  foun- 
tain of  original  supply.  His  wealth  is  be- 
tween him  and  God.  Its  various  lodging 
places,  whether  in  the  bank,  or  in  the  place 
of  registration,  or  in  the  depository  of  wills 
and  title  deeds — these  are  the  sanctuaries 
of  his  secret  worship — these  are  the  high- 
places  of  his  adoration ;  and  never  did  the 
devout  Israelite  look  with  more  intentness 
towards  Mount  Zion,  and  with  his  face 
towards  Jerusalem,  than  he  does  to  his 
wealth,  as  to  the  mountain  and  strong  hold 
of  his  security.  Nor  could  the  Supreme 
be  more  effectually  deposed  from  the  ho- 
mage of  trust  and  gratitude  than  he  ac- 
tually is,  though  this  wealth  were  recalled 
from  its  various  investments;  and  turned 
into  one  mass  of  gold ;  and  cast  into  a 
piece  of  molten  statuary;  and  enshrined 
on  a  pedestal,  around  which  all  his  house- 
hold might  assemble,  and  make  it  the  ob- 
ject of  their  family  devotions  ;  and  plied 
every  hour  of  every  day  with  all  the 
fooleries  of  a  senseless  and  degrading  Pa- 
ganism. It  is  thus,  that  God  may  keep  up 
the  charge  of  idolatry  against  us,  even  after 
all  its  images  have  been  overthroAvn.  It  is 
thus  that  dissuasives  from  idolatry  are  still 
addressed,  in  the  New  Testament,  to  the  pu- 
pils of  a  new  and  better  dispensation  ;  that 
little  children  are  warned  against  idols ;  and 
all  of  us  are  warned  to  flee  from  covetous- 
ness,  which  is  idolatry. 

To  look  no  further  than  to  fortune  as  the 
dispenser  of  all  the  enjoyments  which  mo- 
ney can  purchase,  is  to  make  that  for- 
tune stand  in  the  place  of  God.  It  is  to 
make  sense  shut  out  faith,  and  to  rob  the 
King  eternal  and  invisible  of  that  supre- 
macy, to  which  all  the  blessings  of  human 
existence,  and  all  the  varieties  of  .human 
condition,  ought,  in  every  instance,  and  in 
every  particular,  to  be  referred.  But,  as 
we  have  already  remarked,  the  love  of  mo- 
ney is  one  affection,  and  the  love  of  what  is 
purchased  by  money  is  another.  It  was 
at  first,  we  have  no  doubt,  loved  for  the  sake 
of  the  good  things  which  it  enabled  its  pos- 
sessor to  acquire.  But  whether,  as  the  re- 
sult of  associations  in  the  mind,  so  rapid  as 
to  escape  the  notice  of  our  own  conscious- 
ness— or  as  the  fruit  of  an  infection  running 
by  the  sympathy  among  all  men  busily  en- 
gaged in  the  prosecution  of  wealth,  as  the 
supreme  good  of  their  being — certain  it  is. 


VIII.] 


ON  THE  LOVE  OF  MONEY. 


r 


that  money,  originally  pursued  for  the  sake 
of  other  things,  comes  at  length  to  be  prized 
for  its  own  sake.  And,  perhaps,  there  is  no 
one  circumstance  which  serves  more  toliken 
the  love  of  money  to  the  most  irrational  of 
the  heathen  idolatries,  than  that  it  at  length 
passes  into  the  love  of  money  for  itself;  and 
acquires  a  most  enduring  power  over  the 
human  affections,  separately  altogether  from 
the  power  of  purchase  and  of  command 
which  belongs  to  it,  over  the  proper  and  ori- 
ginal objects  of  human  desire.  The  first 
thing  which  set  man  agoing  in  the  pursuit 
of  wealth,  was  that,  through  it,  as  an  inter- 
vening medium,  he  found  his  way  to  other 
enjoyments;  and  it  proves  him,  as  we  have 
observed,  capable  of  a  higher  reach  of  an- 
ticipation than  the  beast  of  the  field,  or  the 
fowls  of  the  air,  that  he  is  thus  able  to  cal- 
culate, and  to  foresee,  and  to  build  up  a 
provision  for  the  wants  of  futurity.  But, 
mark  how  soon  this  boasted  distinction  of 
his  faculties  is  overthrown,  and  how  near 
to  each  other  lie  the  dignity  and  the  debase- 
ment of  the  human  understanding.  If  it 
evinced  a  loftier  mind  in  man  than  in  the 
inferior  animals,  that  he  invented  money, 
and  by  the  acquisition  of  it  can  both  secure 
abundance  for  himself,  and  transmit  this 
abundance  to  the  future  generations  of  his 
family — what  have  we  to  offer,  in  vindica- 
tion of  this  intellectual  eminence,  when  we 
witness  how  soon  it  is,  that  the  pursuit  of 
wealth  ceases  to  be  rational  1  How,  instead 
of  being  prosecuted  as  an  instrument,  either 
for  the  purchase  of  ease,  or  the  purchase  of 
enjoyment,  both  the  ease  and  enjoyment  of 
a  whole  life  are  rendered  up  as  sacrifices  at 
its  shrine  ?  How,  from  being  sought  after 
as  a  minister  of  gratification  to  the  appetites 
of  nature,  it  at  length  brings  nature  into 
bondage,  and  robs  her  of  all  her  simple  de- 
lights, and  pours  the  infusion  of  wormwood 
into  the  currency  of  her  feelings? — making 
that  man.  sad  who  ought  to  be  cheerful,  and 
that  man  who  ought  to  rejoice  in  his  pre- 
sent abundance,  rilling  him  either  with  the 
cares  of  an  ambition  which  never  will  be 
satisfied,  or  with  the  apprehensions  of  a  dis- 
tress which,  in  all  its  pictured  and  exagge- 
rated evils,  will  never  be  realised.  And  it  is 
wonderful,  it  is  passing  wonderful,  that 
wealth,  which  derives  all  that  is  true  and 
sterling  in  its  worth  from  its  subserviency 
to  other  advantages,  should,  apart  from  all 
thought  about  this  subserviency,  be  made 
the  object  of  such  fervent  and  fatiguing 
devotion.  Insomuch,  that  never  did  Indian 
devotee  inflict  upon  himself  a  severer  agony 
at  the  footstool  of  his  Paganism,  than  those 
devotees  of  wealth  who,  for  its  acquire- 
ment as  their  ultimate  object,  will  forego 
all  the  uses  for  which  alone  it  is  valuable — 
will  give  up  all  that  is  genuine  or  tranquil  in 
the  pleasures  of  life ;  and  will  pierce  them- 
selves through  with  many  sorrows ;   and 


will  undergo  all  the  fiercer  tortures  of  the 
mind ;  and,  instead  of  employing  what  they 
have,  to  smooth  their  passage  through  the 
world,  will,  upon  the  hazardous  sea  of  ad- 
venture, turn  the  whole  of  this  passage  into 
a  storm — thus  exalting  wealth  from  a  ser- 
vant unto  a  lord,  who  in  return  for  the  ho- 
mage that  he  obtains  from  his  worshippers, 
exercises  them,  like  Rehoboam  his  subjects 
of  old,  not  with  whips  but  with  scorpions — 
with  consuming  anxiety,  with  never-sated 
desire,  with  brooding  apprehension,  and  its 
frequent  and  ever-flitting  spectres,  and  the 
endless  jealousies  of  competition  with  men 
as  intently  devoted,  and  as  emulous  of  a 
high  place  in  the  temple  of  their  common 
idolatry,  as  themselves.  And,  without  going 
to  the  higher  exhibitions  of  this  propensity, 
in  all  its  rage  and  in  all  its  restlessness,  we 
have  only  to  mark  its  workings  on  the  walk 
of  even  and  every-day  citizenship;  and 
there  see,  how,  in  the  hearts  even  of  its 
most  commonplace  votaries,  wealth  is  fol- 
lowed after  for  its  own  sake ;  how,  unasso- 
ciated  with  all  for  which  reason  pronounces 
it  to  be  of  estimation,  but,  in  virtue  of  some 
mysterious  and  undefinable  charm,  ope- 
rating not  on  any  principle  of  the  judgment, 
but  on  the  utter  perversity  of  judgment,  mo- 
ney has  come  to  be  of  higher  account  than 
all  that  is  purchased  rfy  money,  and  has  at- 
tained a  rank  co-ordinate  with  that  which 
our  Saviour  assigns  to  the  life  and  to  the 
body  of  man,  in  being  reckoned  more  than 
meat  and  more  than  raiment.  Thus  making 
that  which  is  subordinate  to  be  primary, 
and  that  which  is  primary  subordinate; 
transferring,  by  a  kind  of  fascination,  the 
affections  away  from  wealth  in  use,  to 
wealth  in  idle  and  unemployed  possession — 
insomuch,  that  the  most  welcome  intelli- 
gence you  could  give  to  the  proprietor  of 
many  a  snug  deposit,  in  some  place  of  se- 
cure and  progressive  accumulation,  would 
be,  that  he  should  never  require  any  part 
either  of  it  or  of  its  accumulation  back 
again  for  the  purpose  of  expenditure — and 
that,  to  the  end  of  his  life,  every  new  year 
should  witness  another  unimpaired  addition 
to  the  bulk  or  the  aggrandizement  of  his 
idol.  And  it  would  just  heighten  his  enjoy- 
ment could  he  be  told,  with  prophetic  cer- 
tainty, that  this  process  of  undisturbed  aug- 
mentation would  go  on  with  his  children's 
children,  to  the  last  age  of  the  world  ;  that 
the  economy  of  each  succeeding  race  of 
descendants  would  leave  the  sum  with  its 
interest  untouched,  and  the  place  of  its  sanc- 
tuary unviolated ;  and,  that  through  a  series 
of  indefinite  generations,  would  the  magni- 
tude ever  grow,  and  the  lustre  ever  brighten, 
of  that  household  god  which  he  had  erected 
for  his  own  senseless  adoration,  and  be- 
queathed as  an  object  of  as  senseless  adora- 
tion to  his  family. 

We  have  the  authority  of  that  word  which 


174 


ON  THE  LOVE  OF  MONEY. 


[disc. 


has  been  pronounced  a  discerner  of  the 
thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart,  that  it 
cannot  have  two  masters,  or  that  there  is 
not  room  in  it  for  two  great  and  ascendent 
affections.  The  engrossing  power  of  one 
such  affection  is  expressly  affirmed  of  the 
love  for  Mammon,  or  the  love  for  money 
thus  named  and  characterised  as  an  idol. 
Or,  in  other  words,  if  the  love  of  money  be 
in  the  heart,  the  love  of  God  is  not  there. 
If  a  man  be  trusting  in  uncertain  riches,  he 
is  not  trusting  in  the  living  God,  who  giveth 
us  all  things  richly  to  enjoy.  If  his  heart 
be  set  upon  covetousness,  it  is  set  upon  an 
object  of  idolatry.  The  true  divinity  is 
moved  away  from  his  place,  and,  worse  than 
atheism,  which  would  only  leave  it  empty, 
has  the  love  of  wealth  raised  another  di- 
vinity upon  his  throne.  So  that  covetous- 
ness offers  a  more  daring  and  positive  ag- 
gression on  the  right  and  territory  of  the 
Godhead,  than  even  infidelity.  The  latter 
would  only  desolate  the  sanctuary  of  hea- 
ven ;  the  former  would  set  up  an  abomi- 
nation in  the  midst  of  it.  It  not  only 
strips  God  of  love  and  of  confidence,  which 
are  his  prerogatives,  but  it  transfers  them  to 
another.  And  little  does  the  man  who  is 
proud  in  honour,  but,  at  the  same  time, 
proud  and  peering  in  ambition — little  does 
he  think,  that,  though*  acquitted  in  the  eye 
of  all  his  fellows,  there  still  remains  an 
atrocity  of  a  deeper  character  than  even 
that  of  atheism,  with  which  he  is  chargeable. 
Let  him  just  take  an  account  of  his  mind, 
amid  the  labours  of  his  merchandise,  and 
he  will  find  that  the  living  God  has  no 
ascendency  there;  but  that  wealth,  just  as 
much  as  if  personified  into  life,  and  agency, 
and  power,  wields  Over  him  all  the  ascend- 
ency of  God.  Where  his  treasure  is,  his 
heart  is  also ;  and,  linking  as  he  does  his 
main  hope  with  its  increase,  and  his  main 
fear  with  its  fluctuations  and  its  failures, 
he  has  effectually  dethroned  the  Supreme 
from  his  heart,  and  deified  an  usurper 
in  his  room,  as  if  fortune  had  been  embo- 
died into  a  goddess,  and  he  were  in  the 
habit  of  repairing,  with  a  crowd  of  other 
worshippers,  to  her  temple.  She,  in  fact, 
is  the  dispenser  of  that  which  he  chiefly 
prizes  in  existence.  A  smile  from  her  is 
worth  all  the  promises  of  the  Eternal,  and 
her  threatening  frown  more  dreadful  to  the 
imagination  than  all  his  terrors. 

And  the  disease  is  as  near  to  universal 
as  it  is  virulent.  Wealth  is  the  goddess 
whom  all  the  world  worshippeth.  There  is 
many  a  city  in  our  empire,  of  which,  with 
an  eye  of  apostolical  discernment,  it  may  be 
seen  that  it  is  almost  wholly  given  over  to 
idolatry.  If  a  man  look  no  higher  than  to 
his  money  for  his  enjoyments,  then  money 
is  his  god.  It  is  the  god  of  his  dependence, 
and  the  god  upon  whom  his  heart  is  staid. 
Or  if,  apart  from  other  enjoyments,  it  by 


some  magical  power  of  its  own,  has  gotten 
the  ascendency,  then  still  it  is  followed  after 
as  the  supreme  good  ;  and  there  is  an  actual 
supplanting  of  the  living  God.  He  is  rob- 
bed of  the  gratitude  that  we  owe  him  for 
our  daily  sustenance;  for,  instead  of  receiv- 
ing it  as  if  it  came  direct  out  of  his  hand, 
we  receive  it  as  if  it  came  from  the  hand  of 
a  secondary  agent,  to  whom  we  ascribe  all 
the  stability  and  independence  of  God.  This 
wealth,  in  fact,  obscures  to  us  the  character 
of  God,  as  the  real  though  unseen  Author 
of  our  various  blessings ;  and  as  if  by  a  mate- 
rial intervention  does  it  hide  from  the  per- 
ception of  nature,  the  hand  which  feeds, 
and  clothes,  and  maintains  us  in  life,  and 
in  all  the  comforts  and  necessaries  of  life. 
It  just  has  the  effect  of  thickening  still  more 
that  impalpable  veil  which  lies  between  God 
and  the  eye  of  the  senses.  Wre  lose  all  dis- 
cernment of  him  as  the  giver  of  our  com- 
forts; and  coming,  as  they  appear  to  do, 
from  that  wealth  which  our  fancies  have 
raised  into  a  living  personification,  does  this 
idol  stand  before  us,  not  as  a  deputy  but  as 
a  substitute  for  that  Being,  with  whom  it  is 
that  we  really  have  to  do.  All  this  goes 
both  to  widen  and  to  fortify  that  disruption 
which  has  taken  place  between  God  and 
the  world.  It  adds  the  power  of  one  great 
master  idol  to  the  seducing  influence  of  all 
the  lesser  idolatries.  When  the  liking  and 
the  confidence  of  men  are  towards  money, 
there  is  no  direct  intercourse,  either  by  the 
one  or  the  other  of  these  affections  towards 
God ;  and,  in  proportion  as  he  sends  forth 
his  desires,  and  rests  his  security  on  the 
former,  in  that  very  proportion  does  he  re- 
nounce God  as  his  hope,  and  God  as  his 
dependence. 

And  to  advert,  for  one  moment,  to  the 
misery  of  this  affection,  as  well  as  to  its 
sinfulness.  He,  over  whom  it  reigns,  feels 
a  worthlessness  in  his  present  wealth,  after 
it  is  gotten  ;  and  when  to  this  we  add  the 
restlessness  of  a  yet  unsated  appetite,  lord- 
ing it  over  all  his  convictions,  and  panting 
for  more ;  when,  to  the  dullness  of  his  ac- 
tual satisfaction  in  all  the  riches  that  he 
has,  we  add  his  still  unquenched,  and,  in- 
deed, unquenchable  desire  for  the  riches 
that  he  has  not ;  when  we  reflect  that  as,  in 
the  pursuit  of  wealth,  he  widens  the  circle 
of  his  operations,  so  he  lengthens  out  the 
line  of  his  open  and  hazardous  exposure, 
and  multiplies,  along  the  extent  of  it,  those 
vulnerable  points  from  which  another  and 
another  dart  of  anxiety  may  enter  into  his 
heart ;  when  he  feels  himself  as  if  floating 
on  an  ocean  of  contingency,  on  which,  per- 
haps, he  is  only  borne  up  by  the  breath  of 
a  credit  that  is  fictitious,  and  which,  liable 
to  burst  every  moment,  may  leave  him  to 
sink  under  the  weight  of  his  overladen  spe- 
culation ;  when  suspended  on  the  doubtful 
result  of  his  bold  and  uncertain  adventure, 


VIII.] 


ON  THE  LOVE  OF  MONEY. 


175 


he  dreads  the  tidings  of  disaster  in  every 
arrival,  and  lives  in  a  continual  agony  of 
feeling,  kept  up  by  the  crowd  and  turmoil  of 
his  manifold  distractions,  and  so  overspread- 
ing the  whole  compass  of  his  thoughts,  as  to 
leave  not  one  narrow  space  for  the  thought 
of  eternity  ; — will  any  beholder  just  look  to 
the  mind  of  this  unhappy  man,  thus  tost 
and  bewildered  and  thrown  into  a  general 
unceasing  frenzy,  made  out  of  many  fears 
and  many  agitations,  and  not  to  say,  that 
the  bird  of  the  air,  which  sends  forth  its  un- 
reflecting song,  and  lives  on  the  fortuitous 
bounty  of  Providence,  is  not  higher  in  the 
scale  of  enjoyment  than  he?  And  how 
much  more,  then,  the  quiet  Christian  beside 
him,  who,  in  possession  of  food  and  rai- 
ment has  that  godliness  with  contentment 
which  is  great  gain — who,  with  the  peace 
of  heaven  in  his  heart,  and  the  glories  of 
heaven  in  his  eye,  has  found  out  the  true 
philosophy  of  existence;  has  sought  a  por- 
tion where  alone  a  portion  can  be  found, 
and,  in  bidding  away  from  his  mind  the 
love  of  money,  has  bidden  away  all  the 
cross  and  all  the  carefulness  along  with  it. 
Death  will  soon  break  up  every  swelling 
enterprise  of  ambition,  and  put  upon  it  a 
most  cruel  and  degrading  mockery.  And 
it  is,  indeed,  an  affecting  sight,  to  behold  the 
workings  of  this  world's  infatuation  among 
so  many  of  our  fellow  mortals  nearing  and 
nearing  every  day  to  eternity,  and  yet,  in- 
stead of  taking  heed  to  that  which  is  before 
them,  mistaking  their  temporary  vehicle  for 
their  abiding  home — and  spending  all  their 
time  and  all  their  thought  upon  its  accom- 
modations. It  is  all  the  doing  of  our  great 
adversary,  thus  to  invest  the  trifles  of  a  day 
in  such  characters  of  greatness  and  dura- 
bility ;  and  it  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  most 


formidable  of  his  wiles.  And  whatever  may 
be  the  instrument  of  reclaiming  men  from 
this  delusion,  it  certainly  is  not  any  argu- 
ment either  about  the  shortness  of  life,  or 
the  certainty  and  awfulness  of  its  approach- 
ing termination.  On  this  point  man  is  ca- 
pable of  a  stout-hearted  resistance,  even  to 
ocular  demonstration ;  nor  do  we  know  a 
more  striking  evidence  of  the  bereavement 
which  must  have  passed  upon  the  human 
faculties,  than  to  see  how,  in  despite  of 
arithmetic, — how,  in  despite  of  manifold 
experience, — how,  in  despite  of  all  his  ga- 
thering wrinkles,  and  all  his  growing  infir- 
mities,— how,  in  despite  of  the  ever-lessen- 
ing distance  between  him  and  his  sepulchre, 
and  of  all  the  tokens  of  preparation  for  the 
onset  of  the  last  messenger,  with  which,  in 
the  shape  of  weakness,  and  breathlessness, 
and  dimness  of  eyes;  he  is  visited ;  will  the 
feeble  and  asthmatic  man  still  shake  his 
silver  locks  in  all  the  glee  and  transport  oi 
which  he  is  capable,  when  he  hears  of  his 
gainful  adventures,  and  his  new  accumula- 
tions. Nor  can  we  tell  how  near  he  must 
get  to  his  grave,  or  how  far  on  he  must  ad- 
vance in  the  process  of  dying,  ere  gain 
cease  to  delight,  and  the  idol  of  wealth 
cease  to  be  dear  to  him.  But  when  we  see 
that  the  topic  is  trade  and  its  profits,  which 
lights  up  his  faded  eye  with  the  glow  of  its 
chiefest  ecstacy,  we  are  as  much  satisfied 
that  he  leaves  the  world  with  all  his  trea- 
sure there,  and  all  the  desires  of  his  heart 
there,  as  if  acting  what  is  told  of  the  miser's 
death-bed,  he  made  his  bills  and  his  parch- 
ments of  security  the  companions  of  his 
bosom,  and  the  last  movements  of  his  life 
were  a  fearful,  tenacious,  determined  grasp, 
of  what  to  him  formed  the  all  for  which 
life  was  valuable. 


A  SERMON, 

PREACHED  IN  ST.  ANDREW'S  CHURCH    EDINBURGH, 

BEFORE 

THE   SOCIETY 

FOR 

THE  RELIEF  OF  THE  DESTITUTE  SICK, 

APRIL  18,  1813. 


"  Blessed  is  he  that  considereth  the  poor ;  the  Lord  will  deliver  him  in  time  of  trouble." — Psalm  xli.  1. 


There  is  an  evident  want  of  congeniality 
between  the  wisdom  of  this  world,  and  the 
wisdom  of  the  Christian.  The  term  "  wis- 
dom," carries  my  reverence  along  with  it. 
It  brings  before  me  a  grave  and  respectable 
character,  whose  rationality  predominates 
over  the  inferior  principles  of  his  constitu- 
tion, and  to  whom  I  willingly  yield  that 
peculiar  homage  which  the  enlightened,  and 
the  judicious,  and  the  manly,  are  sure  to 
exact  from  a  surrounding  neighbourhood. 
Now,  so  long  as  this  wisdom  has  for  its  ob- 
ject some  secular  advantage,  I  yield  it  an 
unqualified  reverence.  It  is  a  reverence 
which  all  understand,  and  all  sympathize 
with.  If,  in  private  life,  a  man  be  wise  in 
the  management  of  his  farm,  or  his  fortune, 
or  his  family ;  or  if,  in  public  life,  he  have 
wisdom  to  steer  an  empire  through  all  its 
difficulties,  and  to  carry  it  to  aggrandize- 
ment and  renown — the  respect  which  I  feel 
for  such  wisdom  as  this,  is  most  cordial  and 
entire,  and  supported  by  the  universal  ac- 
knowledgment of  all  whom  I  call  to  attend 
to  it. 

Let"me  now  suppose  that  this  wisdom  has 
changed  its  object — that  the  man  whom  I 
am  representing  to  exemplify  this  respecta- 
ble attribute,  instead  of  being  wise  for  time, 
is  wise  for  eternity — that  he  labours  by  the 
faith  and  sanctification  of  the  gospel  for  un- 
perishable  honours — that,  instead  of  listen- 
ing to  him  with  admiration  at  his  sagacity, 
as  he  talks  of  business,  or  politics,  or  agri- 
culture, we  are  compelled  to  listen  to  him 
talking  of  the  hope  within  the  veil,  and  of 
Christ  being  the  power  of  God,  and  the  wis- 
dom of  God,  unto  salvation.  What  becomes 
of  your  respect  for  him  now?  Are  there  not 
some  of  you  who  are  quite  sensible  that  this 


respect  is  greatly  impaired,  since  the  wis- 
dom of  the  man  has  taken  so  unaccountable 
a  change  in  its  object  and  in  its  direction? 
The  truth  is,  that  the  greater  part  of  the 
world  feel  no  respect  at  all  for  a  wisdom 
which  they  do  not  comprehend.  They  may 
love  the  innocence  of  a  decidedly  religious 
character,  but  they  feel  no  sublime  or  com- 
manding sentiment  of  veneration  for  its  wis- 
dom. All  the  truth  of  the  Bible,  and  all  the 
grandeur  of  eternity,  will  not  redeem  it  from 
a  certain  degree  of  contempt.  Terms  which 
lower,  undervalue,  and  degrade,  suggest 
themselves  to  the  mind;  and  strongly  dis- 
pose it  to  throw  a  mean  and  disagreeable 
colouring  over  the  man  who,  sitting  loose  to 
the  objects  of  the  world,  has  become  alto- 
gether a  Christian.  It  is  needless  to  ex- 
patiate; but  what  I  have  seen  myself,  and 
what  must  have  fallen  under  the  observa- 
tion of  many  whom  I  address,  carry  in  them 
the  testimony  of  experience  to  the  assertion 
of  the  Apostle,  £i  that  the  things  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  are  foolishness  to  the  natural  man, 
neither  can  he  know  them,  for  they  are 
spiritually  discerned." 

Now,  what  I  have  said  of  the  respectable 
attribute  of  wisdom,  is  applicable,  with  al- 
most no  variation,  to  another  attribute  of  the 
human  character,  to  which  I  would  assign 
the  gentler  epithet  of  "  lovely."  The  attri- 
bute to  which  I  allude,  is  that  of  benevo- 
lence. This  is  the  burden  of  every  poet's 
song,  and  every  eloquent  and  interesting 
enthusiast  gives  it  his  testimony.  I  speak 
not  of  the  enthusiasm  of  methodists  and  de- 
votees— I  speak  of  that  enthusiasm  of  fine 
sentiment  which  embellishes  the  pages  of 
elegant  literature,  and  is  addressed  to  all  her 
sighing  and  amiable  votaries,  in  the  various 


CHARITY  SERMON. 


177 


forms  of  novel,  and  poetry,  and  dramatic 
entertainment.  You  would  think  if  any 
tiling  could  bring  the  Christian  at  one  with 
the  world  around  him,  it  would  be  this;  and 
that  in  the  ardent  benevolence  which  figures 
in  novels,  and  sparkles  in  poetry,  there 
would  be  an  entire  congeniality  with  the 
benevolence  of  the  gospel.  I  venture  to  say, 
however,  that  there  never  existed  a  stronger 
repulsion  between  two  contending  senti- 
ments, than  between  the  benevolence  of  the 
Christian,  and  the  benevolence  which  is  the 
theme  of  elegant  literature — that  the  one, 
with  all  its  accompaniments  of  tears,  and 
sensibilities,  and  interesting  cottages,  is  nei- 
ther felt  nor  understood  by  the  Christian  as 
such ;  and  the  other,  with  its  work  and  la- 
bours of  love — its  enduring  hardness  as  a 
good  sold  re r  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  its  living 
not  to  itself,  but  to  the  will  of  Him  who 
died  for  us,  and  who  rose  again,  is  not  only 
not  understood,  but  positively  nauseated,  by 
the  poetical  amateur. 

But  the  contrast  does  not  stop  here.  The 
benevolence  of  the  gospel  is  not  only  at  an- 
tipodes with  the  visionary  sons  and  daugh- 
ters of  poetry,  but  it  even  varies  in  some  of 
its  most  distinguishing  features  with  the  ex- 
perimental benevolence  of  real  and  familiar 
life.  The  fantastic  benevolence  of  poetry  is 
now  indeed  pretty  well  exploded ;  and,  in 
the  more  popular  works  of  the  age,  there  is 
a  benevolence  of  a  far  truer  and  more  sub- 
stantial kind  substituted  in  its  place — the 
benevolence  which  you  meet  with  among 
men  of  business  and  observation — the  be- 
nevolence which  bustles  and  finds  employ- 
ment among  the  most  public  and  ordinary 
scenes,  and  which  seeks  for  objects,  not 
where  the  flower  blows  loveliest,  and  the 
stream,  with  its  gentle  murmurs,  falls  sweet- 
est on  the  car,  but  finds  them  in  his  every- 
day walks — goes  in  quest  of  them  through 
the  heart  of  the  great  city,  and  is  not  afraid 
to  meet  them  in  its  most  putrid  lanes  and 
loathsome  receptacles. 

Now,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that  this 
benevolence  is  of  a  far  more  respectable 
kind  than  that  poetic  sensibility,  which  is 
of  no  use,  because  it  admits  of  no  applica- 
tion. Yet  I  am  not  afraid  to  say,  that,  re- 
spectable as  it  is,  it  does  not  come  up  to  the 
benevolence  of  the  Christian,  and  is  at  vari- 
ance, in  some  of  its  most  capital  ingredients, 
with  the  morality  of  the  gospel.  It  is  well, 
and  very  well,  as  far  as  it  goes;  and  that 
Christian  is  wanting  to  the  will  of  his  mas- 
ter who  refuses  to  share  and  go  along  with 
it.  The  Christian  will  do  all  this,  but  he 
would  like  to  do  more ;  and  it  is  at  the  pre- 
cise point  where  he  proposes  to  do  more, 
that  he  finds  himself  abandoned  by  the  co- 
operation and  good  wishes  of  those  who 
had  hitherto  supported  him.  The  Christian 
goes  as  far  as  the  votary  of  this  useful  be- 
nevolence, but  then  he  would  like  to  go  fur- 
23 


ther,  and  this  is  the  point  at  which  he  is 
mortified  to  find  that  his  old  coadjutors  re- 
fuse to  go  along  with  him  ;  and  that  instead 
of  being  strengthened  by  their  assistance, 
he  has  their  contempt  and  their  ridicule; 
or,  at  all  events,  their  total  want  of  sympa- 
thy, to  contend  with. 

The  truth  is,  that  the  benevolence  I  allude 
to,  with  all  its  respectable  air  of  business 
and  good  sense,  is  altogether  a  secular  be- 
nevolence. Through  all  the  extent  of  its 
operations,  it  carries  in  it  no  reference  to 
the  eternal  duration  of  its  object.  Time,  and 
the  accommodations  of  time,  form  all  its 
subject  and  all  its  exercise.  It  labours,  and 
often  with  success,  to  provide  for  its  object 
a  warm  and  well-sheltered  tenement,  but  it 
looks  not  beyond  the  few  little  years  when 
the  earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  shall  be 
dissolved — when  the  soul  shall  be  driven 
from  its  perishable  tenement,  and  the  only 
benevolence  it  will  acknowledge  or  care  for, 
will  be  the  benevolence  of  those  who  have 
directed  it  to  a  building  not  made  with 
hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.  This,  then,  is 
the  point  at  which  the  benevolence  of  the 
gospel  separates  from  that  worldly  benevo- 
lence, to  which,  as  far  as  it  goes,  I  offer  my 
cheerful  and  unmingled  testimony.  The 
one  minds  earthly  things,  the  other  has  its 
conversation  in  heaven.  Even  when  the 
immediate  object  of  both  is  the  same,  you 
will  generally  perceive  an  evident  distinc- 
tion in  the  principle.  Individuals,  for  exam- 
ple, may  co-operate,  and  will  often  meet  in 
the  same  room,  be  members  of  the  same  so- 
ciety, and  go  hand  in  hand  cordially  toge- 
ther for  the  education  of  the  poor.  But  the 
forming  habits  of  virtuous  industry,  and 
good  members  of  society,  which  are  the 
sole  consideration  in  the  heart  of  the  worldly 
philanthropist,  are  but  mere  accessions  in 
the  heart  of  the  Christian.  The  main  im- 
pulse of  his  benevolence  lies  in  furnishing 
the  poor  with  the  means  of  enjoying  that 
bread  of  life  which  came  down  from  hea- 
ven, and  in  introducing  them  to  the  know- 
ledge of  those  scriptures  which  are  the 
power  of  God  unto  salvation  to  every  one 
who  believeth.  Now,  it  is  so  far  a  blessing 
to. the  world  that  there  is  a  co-operation  in 
the  immediate  object.  But  what  I  contend 
for,  is,  that  there  is  a  total  want  of  conge- 
niality in  the  principle — that  the  moment 
you  strip  the  institution  of  its  temporal  ad- 
vantages, and  make  it  repose  on  the  naked 
grandeur  of  eternity,  it  is  fallen  from,  or 
laughed  at  as  one  of  the  chimeras  of  fanati- 
cism, and  left  to  the  despised  efforts  of  those 
whom  they  esteem  to  be  unaccountable  peo- 
ple, who  subscribe  for  missions,  and  squan- 
der their  money  on  Bible  societies.  Strange 
effect,  you  would  think,  of  eternity,  to  de- 
grade the  object  with  which  it  is  connected ! 
But  so  it  is.  The  blaze  of  glory,  which  is 
thrown  around  the  martyrdom  of  a  patriot 


178 


CHARITY  SERMON. 


or  a  philosopher,  is  refused  to  the  martyr- 
dom of  a  Christian.  When  a  statesman  dies, 
who  lifted  his  intrepid  voice  for  the  liberty 
of  the  species,  we  hear  of  nothing  but  of  the 
shrines  and  the  monuments  of  immortality. 
Put  into  his  place  one  of  those  sturdy  re- 
formers, who,  unmoved  by  councils  and 
inquisitions,  stood  up  for  the  religious  liber- 
ties of  the  world ;  and  it  is  no  sooner  done, 
than  the  full  tide  of  congenial  sympathy  and 
admiration  is  at  once  arrested.  We  have 
all  heard  of  the  benevolent  apostleship  of 
Howard,  and  what  Christian  will  be  behind 
his  fellows  with  his  applauding  testimony  ? 
But  will  they,  on  the  other  hand,  share  his 
enthusiasm  when  he  tells  them  of  the  apos- 
tleship of  Paul,  who,  in  the  sublimer  sense 
of  the  term,  accomplished  the  liberty  of  the 
captive,  and  brought  them  that  sat  in  dark- 
ness out  of  the  prison-house?  Will  they 
share  in  the  holy  benevolence  of  the  apos- 
tle when  he  pours  out  his  ardent  effusions 
in  behalf  of  his  countrymen  ?  They  were  at 
that  time  on  the  eve  of  the  crudest  suffer- 
ings. The  whole  vengeance  of  the  Roman 
power  was  mustering  to  bear  upon  them. 
The  siege  and  destruction  of  their  city  form 
one  of  the  most  dreadful  tragedies  in  the 
history  of  war.  Yet  Paul  seems  to  have  had 
another  object  in  his  eye.  It  was  their  souls 
and  their  eternity  which  engrossed  him. 
Can  you  sympathise  with  him  in  this  prin- 
ciple, or  join  in  kindred  benevolence  with 
him,  when  he  says,  that  "  my  heart's  desire 
and  prayer  for 'Israel  is  that  they  might  be 
saved  ?" 

But  to  bring  my  list  of  examples  to  a 
close,  the  most  remarkable  of  them  all  may 
be  collected  from  the  history  of  the  present 
attempts  which  are  now  making  to  carry 
the  knowledge  of  divine  revelation  into  the 
Pagan  and  uncivilized  countries  of  the 
world.  Now,  it  may  be  my  ignorance,  but 
I  am  certainly  not  aware  of  the  fact,  that 
without  a  book  of  religious  faith — without 
religion,  in  fact,  being  the  errand  and  occa- 
sion, we  have  never  been  able  in  modern 
imes  so  far  to  compel  the  attentions  and  to 
subdue  the  habits  of  savages,  as  to  throw  in 
among  them  the  use  and  possession  of  a 
written  language.  Certain  it  is,  howevej, 
at  all  events,  that  this  very  greatest  step  in 
the  process  of  converting  a  wild  man  of  the 
woods  into  a  humanized  member  of  society, 
has  been  accomplished  by  christian  mis- 
sionaries. They  have  put  into  the  hands 
of  barbarians  this  mighty  instrument  of  a 
written  language,  and  they  have  taught 
them  how  to  use  it*    They  have  formed 


♦As,  for  instance,  Mr.  John  Elliot,  and  the 
Moravian  brethren  among  the  Indians  of  New 
England  and  Pennsylvania;  the  Moravians  of 
South  America;  Mr.  Hans  Egede,  and  the  Mo- 
ravians in  Greenland;  the  latter  in  Labradore, 


an  orthography  for  wandering  and  untu- 
tored savages.  They  have  given  a  shape 
and  a  name  to  their  barbarous  articulations ; 
and  the  children  of  men,  who  lived  on  the 
prey  of  the  wilderness,  are  now  forming  in 
village  schools  to  the  arts  and  the  decencies 
of  cultivated  life.  Now,  I  am  not  involving 
you  in  the  controversy  whether  civilization 
should  precede  Christianity,  or  Christianity 
should  precede  civilization.  It  is  not  to 
what  has  been  said  on  the  subject,  but  to 
what  has  been  done,  that  we  are  pointing 
your  attention.  We  appeal  to  the  fact ;  and 
as  an  illustration  of  the  principle  we  have 
been  attempting  to  lay  before  you,  we  call 
upon  you  to  mark  the  feelings,  and  the 
countenance,  and  the  language,  of  the  mere 
academic  moralist,  when  you  put  into  his 
hand  the  authentic  and  proper  document 
where  the  fact  is  recorded — we  mean  a  mis- 
sionary report,  or  a  missionary  magazine. 
We  know  that  there  are  men  who  have  so 
much  of  the  firm  nerve  and  hardihood  of 
philosophy  about  them,  as  not  to  be  repelled 
from  the  truth  in  whatever  shape,  or  from 
whatever  quarter  it  comes  to  them.  But 
there  are  others  of  a  humbler  cast  who  have 
transferred  their  homage  from  the  omnipo- 
tence of  truth,  to  the  omnipotence  of  a  name; 
who,  because  missionaries,  while  they  are 
accomplishing  the  civilization,  are  labour- 
ing also  for  the  eternity  of  savages,  have 
lifted  up  the  cry  of  fanaticism  against 
them — who,  because  missionaries  revere  the 
word  of  God,  and  utter  themselves  in  the 
language  of  the  New  Testament,  nauseate 
every  word  that  comes  from  them  as  over- 
run with  the  flavour  and  phraseology  of 
methodism — who  are  determined,  in  short, 
to  abominate  all  that  is  missionary,  and  suf- 
fer the  very  sound  of  the  epithet  to  fill  their 
minds  with  an  overwhelming  association 
of  repugnance,  and  prejudice,  and  disgust. 

We  would  not  have  counted  this  so  re- 
markable an  example,  had  it  not  been  that 
missionaries  are  accomplishing  the  very 
object  on  which  the  advocates  for  civiliza- 
tion love  to  expatiate.  They  are  working 
for  the  temporal  good  far  more  effectually 
than  any  adventurer  in  the  cause  ever  did 
before ;  but  mark  the  want  of  congeniality 
between  the  benevolence  of  this  world,  and 
the  benevolence  of  the  Christian ;  they  incur 
contempt,  because  they  are  working  for  the 
spiritual  and  eternal  good  also.  Nor  do  the 
earthly  blessings  which    they  scatter   so 


among  the  Eskimaux  ;  the  missionaries  of  Ota- 
heite,  and  other  South  Sea  islands;  and  Mr. 
Brunton,  under  the  patronage  of  the  Society  for 
Missions  to  Africa  and  the  East,  who  reduced  the 
language  of  the  Susoos,  a  nation  on  the  coast  of 
Africa,  to  writing  and  grammatical  form,  and 
printed  in  it  a  spelling-book,  vocabulary,  catechism, 
and  some  tracts.  Other  instances  besides  might 
be  given. 


CHARITY  SERMON. 


179 


abundantly  in  their  way,  redeem  from  scorn 
the  purer  and  the  nobler  principle  which 
inspires  them. 

These  observations  seem  to  be  an  appli- 
cable introduction  to  the  subject  before  us. 
I  call  your  attention  to  the  way  in  which 
the  Bible  enjoins  us  to  take  up  the  care  of 
the  poor.  It  does  not  say,  in  the  text  before 
us,  Commiserate  the  poor ;  for,  if  it  said  no 
more  than  this,  it  would  leave  their  neces- 
sities to  be  provided  for  by  the  random  ebul- 
litions of  an  (impetuous  and  unreflecting 
sympathy.  It  provides  them  with  a  better 
security  than  the  mere  feeling  of  compas- 
sion— a  feeling  which,  however  useful  for 
the  purpose  of  excitement,  must  be  con- 
trolled and  regulated.  Feeling  is  but  a  faint 
and  fluctuating  security.  Fancy  may  mis- 
lead it.  The  sober  realities  of  life  may  dis- 
gust it.  Disappointment  may  extinguish  it. 
Ingratitude  may  embitter  it.  Deceit,  with 
its  counterfeit  representations,  may  allure  it 
to  the  wrong  object.  At  all  events,  Time  is 
the  little  circle  within  which  it  in  general 
expatiates.  It  needs  the  impression  of  sen- 
sible objects  to  sustain  it ;  nor  can  it  enter 
with  zeal  or  with  vivacity  into  the  wants 
of  the  abstract  and  invisible  soul.  The 
Bible,  then,  instead  of  leaving  the  relief  of 
the  poor  to  the  mere  instinct  of  sympathy, 
makes  it  a  subject  for  consideration — 
Blessed  is  he  that  considereth  the  poor — a 
grave  and  prosaic  exercise  I  do  allow,  and 
which  makes  no-  figure  in  those  high 
wrought  descriptions,  where  the  exquisite 
tale  of  benevolence  is  made  up  of  all  the 
sensibilities  of  tenderness  on  the  one  hand, 
and  of  all  the  ecstacies  of  gratitude  on  the 
other.  The  Bible  rescues  the  cause  from 
the  mischief  to  which  a  heedless  or  un- 
thinking sensibility  would  expose  it.  It 
brings  it  under  the  cognizance  of  a  higher 
faculty — a  faculty  of  steadier  operation  than 
to  be  weary  in  well-doing,  and  of  sturdier 
endurance  than  to  give  it  up  in  disgust. 
It  calls  you  to  consider  the  poor.  It 
makes  the  virtue  of  relieving  them  a  matter 
of  computation  as  well  as  of  sentiment; 
and  in  so  doing,  it  puts  you  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  various  delusions  by  which 
you  are  at  one  time  led  to  prefer  the  in- 
dulgence of  pity  to  the  substantial  interest 
of  its  object ;  at  another,  are  led  to  retire 
chagrined  and  disappointed  from  the  scene 
of  duty,  because  you  have  not  met  with  the 
gratitude  or  the  honesty  that  you  laid  your 
account  with  ;  at  another,  are  led  to  expend 
all  your  anxieties  upon  the  accommodation 
of  time,  and  to  overlook  eternity.  It  is  the 
office  of  consideration  to  save  you  from 
all  these  fallacies.  Under  its  tutorage,  at- 
tention to  the  wants  of  the  poor  ripens 
into  principle.  I  want,  my  brethren,  to 
press  its  advantages  upon  you,  for  I  can  in 
no  other  way  recommend  the  society  whose 
claims  I  am  appointed  to  lay  before  you,  so 


effectually  to  your  patronage.  My  time 
will  only  permit  me  to  lay  before  you  a  few 
of  their  advantages,  and  I  shall  therefore 
confine  myself  to  two  leading  particulars. 

I.  The  man  who  considers  the  poor,  in- 
stead of  slumbering  over  the  emotions  of  a 
useless  sensibility,  among  those  imaginary 
beings  whom  poetry  and  romance  have 
laid  before  him  in  all  the  elegance  of  fic- 
titious history,  will  bestow  the  labour  and 
the  attention  of  actual  business  among  the 
poor  of  the  real  and  the  living  world.  Be- 
nevolence is  the  burden  of  every  romantic 
tale,  and  of  every  poet's  song.  It  is  dressed 
out  in  all  the  fairy  enchantments  of  imagery 
and  eloquence.  All  is  beauty  to  the  eye 
and  music  to  the  ear.  Nothing  seen  but 
pictures  of  felicity,  and  nothing  heard  but 
the  soft  whispers  of  gratitude  and  affection. 
The  reader  is  carried  along  by  this  soft  and 
delightful  representation  of  virtue.  He  ac- 
companies his  hero  through  all  the  fancied 
varieties  of  his  history.  He  goes  along  with 
him  to  the  cottage  of  poverty  and  disease, 
surrounded,  as  we  may  suppose,  with  all 
the  charms  of  rural  obscurity,  and  where 
the  murmurs  of  an  adjoining  rivulet  accord 
with  the  finer  and  more  benevolent  sensi- 
bilities of  the  mind.  He  enters  this  en- 
chanting retirement,  and  meets  with  a  pic- 
ture of  distress,  adorned  in  all  the  elegance 
of  fiction.  Perhaps  a  father  laid  on  a  bed 
of  languishing,  and  supported  by  the  la- 
bours of  a  pious  and  affectionate  family, 
where  kindness  breathes  in  every  word,  and 
anxiety  sits  upon  every  countenance — where 
the  industry  of  his  children  struggles  in 
vain  to  supply  the  cordials  which  his  po- 
verty denies  him — where  nature  sinks  every 
hour,  and  all  feel  a  gloomy  foreboding, 
which  they  strive  to  conceal,  and  tremble 
to  express.  The  hero  of  romance  enters, 
and  tie  glance  of  his  benevolent  eye  en- 
lightens this  darkest  recess  of  misery.  He 
turns  him  to  the  bed  of  languishing,  tells 
the  sick  man  that  there  is  still  hope,  and 
smiles  comfort  on  his  despairing  children. 
Day  after  day  he  repeats  his  kindness  and 
his  charity.  They  hail  his  approach  as  the 
footsteps  of  an  angel  of  mercy.  The  father 
lives  to  bless  his  deliverer.  The  family  re- 
ward his  benevolence  by  the  homage  of  an 
affectionate  gratitude ;  and,  in  the  piety  of 
their  evening  prayer,  offer  up  thanks  to  the 
God  of  heaven,  for  opening  the  hearts  of 
the  rich  to  kindly  and  beneficent  attentions. 
The  reader  wecp"s  with  delight.  The  visions 
of  paradise  play  before  his  fancy.  His  tears 
flow,  and  his  lieart  dissolves  in  all  the  lux- 
ury of  tenderness. 

Now,  we  do  not  deny  that  the  members 
of  the  Destitute  Sick  Society  may  at  times 
have  met  with  some  such  delightful  scene 
to  soothe  and  encourage  them.  But  put 
the  question  to  any  of  their  visitors,  and  he 
will  not  fail  to  tell  you,  that  if  they  had 


180 


CHARITY   SERMON. 


never  moved  but  when  they  had  something 
like  this  to  excite  and  to  gratify  their 
hearts,  they  would  seldom  have  moved  at 
all ;  and  their  usefulness  to  the  poor  would 
have  been  reduced  to  a  very  humble  frac- 
tion of  what  they  have  actually  done  for 
them.  What  is  this  but  to  say,  that  it  is 
the  business  of  a  religious  instructor  to  give 
yon,  not  the  elegant,  but  the  true  represen- 
tation of  benevolence — to  represent  it  not 
so  much  as  a  luxurious  indulgence  to  the 
finer  sensibdities  of  the  mind,  but  according 
to  the  sober  declaration  of  Scripture,  as  a 
work  and  as  a  labour — as  a  business  in 
which  you  must  encounter  vexation,  op- 
position, and  fatigue;  where  you  are  not 
always  to  meet  with  that  elegance,  which 
allures  the  fancy,  or  with  that  humble  and 
retired  adversity,  which  interests  the  more 
tender  propensities  of  the  heart;  but  as  a 
business  where  reluctance  must  often  be 
overcome  by  a  sense  of  duty,  and  where, 
though  oppressed  at  every  step,  by  envy, 
disgust,  and  disappointment,  you  are  bound 
to  persevere,  in  obedience  to  the  law  of 
God,  and  the  sober  instigation  of  principle. 

The  benevolence  of  the  gospel  lies  in  ac- 
tions. The  benevolence  of  our  fictitious 
writers,  in  a  kind  of  high-wrought  delicacy 
of  feeling  and  sentiment.  The  one  dissi- 
pates all  its  fervour  in  sighs  and  tears,  and 
idle  aspirations — the  other  reserves  its 
strength  for  efforts  and  execution.  The 
one  regards  it  as  a  luxurious  enjoyment  for 
the  heart — the  other,  as  a  work  and  busi- 
ness for  the  hand.  The  one  sits  in  indo- 
lence, and  broods,  in  visionary  rapture, 
over  its  schemes  of  ideal  philanthropy — the 
other  steps  abroad,  and  enlightens  by  its 
presence,  the  dark  and  pestilential  hovels 
of  disease.  The  one  wastes  away  in  empty 
ejaculation — the  other  gives  time  and  trou- 
ble to  the  work  of  beneficence — givef  edu- 
cation to  the  orphan — provides  clothes  for 
the  naked,  and  lays  food  on  the  table  of 
the  hungry.  The  one  is  indolent  and  ca- 
pricious, and  often  does  mischief  by  the 
occasional  overflowings  of  a  whimsical  and 
ill -directed  charity — the  other  is  vigilant 
and  discerning,  and  takes  care  lest  his  dis- 
tributions be  injudicious,  and  the  effort  of 
benevolence  be  misapplied.  The  one  is 
soothed  with  the  luxury  of  feeling,  and  re- 
clines in  easy  and  indolent  satisfaction — the 
other  shakes  off  the  deceitful  languor  of 
contemplation  and  solitude,  and  delights  in 
a  scene  of  activity. — Remember,  that  virtue, 
in  general,  is  not  to  feel,  but  to  do;  not 
merely  to  conceive  a  purpose,  but  to  carry 
that  purpose  into  execution ;  not  merely  to 
be  overpowered  by  the  impression  of  a  sen- 
timent, but  to  practise  what  it  loves,  and  to 
imitate  what  it  admires. 

To  be  benevolent  in  speculation,  is  often 
to  be  selfish  in  action  and  in  reality.  The 
vanity  and  the  indolence  of  man  delude 


him  into  a  thousand  inconsistencies.  He 
professes  to  love  the  name  and  the  sem- 
blance of  virtue,  but  the  labour  of  exertion 
and  of  self-denial  terrifies  him  from  at- 
tempting it.  The  emotions  of  kindness  are 
delightful  to  his  bosom,  but  then  they  are 
little  better  than  a  selfish  indulgence — they 
terminate  in  his  own  enjoyment — they  are 
a  mere  refinement  of  luxury.  His  eye 
melt?  over  the  picture  of  fictitious  distress 
while  not  a  tear  is  left  for  the  actual  starva- 
tion and  misery  with  whVh  he  is  sur- 
rounded. It  is  easy  to  indulge  the  imagina- 
tions of  a  visionary  heart  in  going  over  a 
scene  of.  fancied  affliction,  because  here 
there  is  no  sloth  to  overcome — no  avari- 
cious propensity  to  control — no  offensive  or 
disgusting  circumstance  to  allay  the  un- 
mingled  impression  of  sympathy  which  a 
soft  and  elegant  picture  is  calculated  to 
awaken.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  be  benevolent 
in  action  and  in  reality,  because  here  there 
is  fatigue  to  undergo — there  is  time  and 
money  to  give — there  is  the  mortifying 
spectacle  of  vice,  and  folly,  and  ingratitude, 
to  encounter.  We  like  to  give  you  the  fair 
picture  of  love  to  man,  because  to  throw 
over  it  false  and  fictitious  embellishments, 
is  injurious  to  its  cause.  These  elevate  the 
fancy  by  romantic  visions  which  can  never 
be  realized.  They  embitter  the  heart  by 
the  most  severe  and  mortifying  disappoint- 
ments, and  often  force  us  to  retire  in  dis- 
gust from  what  heaven  has  intended  to  be 
the  theatre  of  our  discipline  and  prepara- 
tion. Take  the  representation  of  the  Bible. 
Benevolence  is  a  work  and  a  labour.  It 
often  calls  for  the  severest  efforts  of  vigi- 
lance and  industry — a  habit  of  action  not  to 
be  acquired  in  the  school  of  fine  sentiment, 
but  in  the  walks  of  business,  in  the  dark 
and  dismal  receptacles  of  misery — in  the 
hospitals  of  disease — in  the  putrid  lanes  of 
great  cities,  where  poverty  dwells  in  lank 
and  ragged  wretchedness,  agonized  with 
pain,  faint  with  hunger,  and  shivering  in  a 
frail  and  unsheltered  tenement. 

You  are  not  to  conceive  yourself  a  real 
lover  of  your  species,  and  entitled  to  the 
praise  or  the  reward  of  benevolence,  be- 
cause you  weep  over  a  fictitious  represen- 
tation of  human  misery.  A  man  may  weep 
in  the  indolence  of  a  studious  and  contem- 
plative retirement;  he  may  breathe  all  the 
tender  aspirations  of  humanity;  but  what 
avails  all  this  warm  and  diffusive  benevo- 
lence, if  it  is  never  exerted — if  it  never  rise 
to  execution — if  it  never  carry  him  to  the 
accomplishment  of  a  single  benevolent 
purpose — if  it  shrink  from  activity,  and 
sicken  at  the  pain  of  fatigue  ?  It  is  easy, 
indeed,  to  come  forward  with  the  cant  and 
hypocrisy  of  fine  sentiment — to  have  a 
heart  trained  to  the  emotions  of  benevo- 
lence, while  the  hand  refuses  the  labours 
of  discharging    its    offices — to    weep   for 


CHARITY    SERMON. 


181 


amusement,  and  to  have  nothing  to  spare 
for  human  suffering  but  the  tribute  of  an 
indolent  and  unmeaning  sympathy.  Many 
of  you  must  be  acquainted  with  that  cor- 
ruption of  Christian  doctrine,  which  has 
been  termed  Antinomianism.  It  professes 
the  highest  reverence  for  the  Supreme 
Being,  while  it  refuses  obedience  to  the 
lessons  of  his  authority.  It  professes  the 
highest  gratitude  for  the  sufferings  of 
Christ,  while  it  refuses  that  course  of  life 
and  action,  which  he  demands  of  his  fol- 
lowers. It  professes  to  adore  the  tremen- 
dous Majesty  of  heaven,  and  to  weep  in 
shame  and  in  sorrow  over  the  sinfulness 
of  degraded  humanity,  while  every  day  it 
insults  Heaven  by  the  enormity  of  its  mis- 
deeds,  and  evinces  the  insincerity  of  its 
wilful  perseverance  in  the  practice  of  ini- 
quity. This  Antinomianism  is  generally 
condemned ;  and  none  reprobate  it  more 
than  the  votaries  of  fine  sentiment — your 
men  of  taste  and  elegant  literature — your 
epicures  of  feeling,  who  riot  in  all  the  lux- 
ury of  theatrical  emotion,  and  who,  in  their 
admiration  of  what  is  tender,  and  beautiful, 
and  cultivated,  have  always  turned  with 
disgust  from  the  doctrines  of  a  sour  and 
illiberal  theology.  We  may  say  to  such, 
as  Nathan  to  David,  "  Thou  art  the  man." 
Theirs  is  to  all  intents  and  purposes  Anti- 
nomianism— and  an  Antinomianism  of  a 
far  more  dangerous  and  deceitful  kind,  than 
the  Antinomianism  of  a  spurious  and  pre- 
tended orthodoxy.  In  the  Antinomianism  of 
religion,  there  is  nothing  to  fascinate  or  de- 
ceive you.  It  wears  an  air  of  repulsive 
bigotry,  more  fitted  to  awaken  disgust  than 
to  gain  the  admiration  of  proselytes.  There 
is  a  glaring  deformity  in  its  aspect,  which 
alarms  you  at  the  very  outset,  and  is  an 
outrage  to  that  natural  morality  which,  dark 
and  corrupted  as  it  is,  is  still  strong  enough 
to  lift  its  loud  remonstrance  against  it.  But 
in  the  Antinomianism  of  high  wrought  sen- 
timent, there  is  a  deception  far  more  insinu- 
ating. It  steals  upon  you  under  the  sem- 
blance of  virtue.  It  is  supported  by  the 
delusive  colouring  of  imagination  and 
poetry.  It  has  all  the  graces  and  embel- 
lishments of  literature  to  recommend  it. 
Vanity  is  soothed,  and  conscience  lulls  itself 
to  repose  in  this  dream  of  feeling  and  of 
indolence. 

Let  us  dismiss  these  lying  vanities,  and 
regulate  our  lives  by  the  truth  and  sober- 
ness of  the  New  Testament.  Benevolence 
is  not  in  word  and  in  tongue,  hut  in  deed 
and  in  truth.  It  is  a  business  with  men  as 
they  are.  ami  with  human  life  as  drawn  by 
tht1  rough  hand  of  experience.  It  is  a  duty 
which  you  must  perforin  at  the  call  of  prin- 
ciple, though  there  be  no  voice  of  eloquence 
to  give  splendour  to  your  exertions,  and  no 
music  or  poetry  to  lead  your  willing  foot- 
steps through  the  bowers  of  enchantment. 


It  is  not  the  impulse  of  high  and  ecstatic 
emotion.  It  is  an  exertion  of  principle.  You 
must  go  to  the  poor  man's  cottage,  though 
no  verdure  flourish  around  it,  and  no  rivulet 
be  nigh  to  delight  you  by  the  gentleness  of 
its  murmurs.  If  you  look  for  the  romantic 
simplicity  of  fiction  you  will  be  disappoint- 
ed :  but  it  is  your  duty  to  persevere,  in  spite 
of  every  discouragement.  Benevolence  is 
not  merely  a  feeling,  but  a  principle ;  not  a 
dream  of  rapture  for  the  fancy  to  indulge 
in,  but  a  business  for  the  hand  to  execute. 

It  must  now  be  obvious  to  all  of  you.  that 
it  is  not  enough  that  you  give  money,  and 
add  your  name  to  the  contributors  of  cha- 
rity— you  must  give  it  with  judgment.  You 
must  give  your  time  and  your  attention. 
You  must  descend  to  the  trouble  of  examina- 
tion. You  must  rise  from  the  repose  of  con- 
templation, and  make  yourself  acquainted 
with  the  objects  of  your  benevolent  exer- 
cises. Will  he  husband  your  charity  with 
care,  or  will  he  squander  it  away  in  idle- 
ness and  dissipation?  Will  he  satisfy  him- 
self with  the  brutal  luxury  of  the  moment, 
and  neglect  the  supply  of  his  more  substan- 
tial necessities,  or  suffer  his  children  to  be 
trained' in  ignorance  and  depravity  ?  Will 
charity  corrupt  him  by  laziness  ?  What  is 
his  peculiar  necessity?  Is  it  the  want  of 
health  or  the  want  of  employment  ?  Is  it 
the  pressure  of  a  numerous  family  ?  Does 
he  need  medicine  to  administer  to  the  dis- 
eases of  his  children  ?  Does  he  need  fuel  or 
raiment  to  protect  them  from  the  incle- 
mency of  winter  ?  Does  he  need  money 
to  satisfy  the  yearly  demands  of  his  land- 
lord, or  to  purchase  books,  and  to  pay  for 
the  education  of  his  offspring  ? 

To  give  money  is  not  to  do  all  the  work 
and  labour  of  benevolence.  You  must  go 
to  the  poor  man's  bed.  You  must  lend  your 
hand  to  the  work  of  assistance.  You  must 
examine  his  accounts.  You  must  try  to  re- 
cover those  debts  which  are  due  to  his  fa- 
mily. You  must  try  to  recover  those  wages 
which  are  detained  by  the  injustice  or  the 
rapacity  of  his  master.  You  must  employ 
your  mediation  with  his  superiors.  You 
must  represent  to  them  the  necessities  of 
his  situation.  You  must  solicit  their  assist- 
ance, and  awaken  their  feelings  to  the  tale 
of  his  calamity.  This  is  benevolence  in  its 
plain,  and  sober,  and  substantial  reality, 
though  eloquence  may  have  withheld  its 
imagery,  and  poetry  may  have  denied  its 
graces  and  its  embellishments.  This  is  true 
and  unsophisticated  goodness.  It  may  be 
recorded  in  no  earthly  documents ;  but  if 
done  under  the  influence  of  christian  prin- 
ciple— in  a  word,  done  unto  Jesus,  it  is  writ- 
ten in  the  book  of  heaven,  and  will  give 
a  new  lustre  to  that  crown  to  which  his 
disciples  look  forward  in  time,  and  will  wear 
through  eternity. 

You  have  all  heard  of  the  division  of  In 


1S2 


HARTTY  SERMON. 


bour,  and  I  wish  you  to  understand,  that  the 
advantage  of  this  principle  may  be  felt  as 
much  in  the  operations  of  charity,  as  in  the 
operations  of  trade  and  manufactures.  The 
work  of  beneficence  does  not  lie  in  the  one 
act  of  giving  money ;  there  must  be  the  act 
of  attendance;  there  must  be  the  act  of  in- 
quiry; there  must  be  the  act  of  judicious 
application.     But  I  can  conceive  that  an 
individual    may    be    so    deficient    in    the 
varied  experience  and  attention  which  a 
work  so  extensive  demands,,  that  he  may 
retire  in  disgust  and  discouragement  from 
the  practice  of  charity  altogether.    The  in- 
stitution of  a  Society,  such  as  this,  saves 
this  individual  to  the  cause.     It  takes  upon 
itself  all  the  subsequent  acts  in  the  work 
and  labour  of  love,  and  restricts  his  part  to 
the  mere  act  of  giving  money.    It  fills  the 
middle  space  between  the  dispensers  arid 
the  recipients  of  charity.    The  habits  of 
many  who  now  hear  me,  may  disqualify 
them  for  the  work  of  examination.    They 
may  have  no  time  for  it ;  they  may  live  at 
a  distance  from  the  objects ;  they  may  nei- 
ther know  how  to  introduce,  nor  how  to 
conduct  themselves  in  the  management  of 
all  the  details ;  their  want  of  practice  and 
of  experience  may  disable  them  for  the 
work  of  repelling  imposition ;  they  should 
try  to  gain  the  necessary  habits ;  it  is  right 
that    every    individual   among  us,  should 
each,  in  his  own  sphere,  consider  the  poor, 
and  qualify  themselves  for  a  judicious  and 
discriminating  charity.     But,  in  the  mean 
time,  the  Society  for  the  Relief  of  the  Des- 
titute Sick,  is  an  instrument  ready  made 
to  our  hands.    Avail  yourselves  of  this  in- 
strument immediately,  as,  by  the  easiest 
part  of  the  exercise  of  charity,  which  is  to 
give  money,  you  carry  home  to  the  poor 
all  the  benefits  of  its  most  difficult  exercises. 
The  experience  which  you  want,  the  mem- 
bers of  this  laudable  Society  are  in  posses- 
sion of.     By  the  work  and  observation  of 
years,  a  stock  of  practical  wisdom  is  now 
accumulated  among  them.   They  have  been 
long  inured  to  all  that  is  loathsome  and  dis- 
couraging in  this  good  work,  and  they  have 
nerve,  and  hardihood,  and  principle  to  front 
it.    They  are  every  way  qualified  to  be  the 
carriers  of  your  bounty,  for  it  is  a  path  they 
have  long  travelled  in.     Give  the  money, 
and  these  conscientious  men  will  soon  bring 
it  into  contact  with  the  right  objects.  They 
know  the  way  through  all  the  obscurities 
of  this  metropolis,  and  they  they  can  bring 
the  offerings  of  your  charity  to  people  whom 
you  will  never  see,  and  into  houses  which 
you  will  never  enter.    It  is  not  easy  to  con- 
ceive, far  less  to  compute  the  extent  of  hu- 
man misery ;  but  these  men  can  give  you 
experience  for  it.   They  can  show  you  their 
registers  of  the  sick  and  of  the  dying ;  they 
are  familiar  with  disease  in  all  its  varieties 
of  faintnessj  and  breathlessness,  and  pain. — 


Sad  union  !  they  are  called  to  witness  it  in 
conjunction  with  poverty;  and  well  do  they 
know  that  there  is  an  eloquence  in  the  im- 
ploring looks  of  these  helpless  poor,  which 
no  description  can  set  before  you.  Oh !  my 
brethren,  figure  to  yourselves  the  calamity 
in  all  its  soreness,  and  measure  your  bounty 
by  the  actual  greatness  of  the  claims,  and 
not  by  the  feebleness  of  their  advocate. 

I  have  trespassed  upon  your  patience; 
but,  at  the  hazard  of  carrying  my  address 
to  a  length  that  is  unusual,  I  must  still  say 
more.     Nor  would  I  ever  forgive  myself  if 
I  neglected  to  set  the  eternity  of  the  poor 
in  all  its  importance  before  you.    This  is 
the  second  point  of  consideration  to  which 
I  wish  to  direct  you.    The  mart  who  con 
siders  the  poor  will  give  his  chief  anxiety 
to  the  wants  of  their  eternity.     It  must  be 
evident   to  all  of  you  that  this  anxiety  is 
little  felt.     I  do  not  appeal  for  the  evidence 
of  this  to  the  selfish  part  of  mankind — there 
we  are  not  to  expect  it.    I  go  to  those  who 
are  really  benevolent — who  have  a  wish  to 
make  others  happy,  and  who  take  trouble 
in  so  doing ;  and  it  is  a  striking  observation, 
how  little  the  salvation  of  these  others  is 
the  object  of  that  benevolence  which  makes 
them  so  amiable.     It  will  be  found  that  in 
and  by  far  the  greater  number  of  instances, 
this  principle  is  all  consumed  on  the  ac- 
commodations of  time,  and  the  necessities 
of  the  body.     It  is  the  meat  which  feeds 
them — the  garment  which  covers  them — 
the  house  which  shelters  them — the  money 
which  purchases  all  things;  these,  I  say, 
are  what  form  the  chief  topics  of  benevo- 
lent anxieties.    Now,  we  do  not  mean  to  dis- 
courage this  principle.    We  cannot  afford 
it ;  there  is  too  little  of  it ;  and  it  forms  too 
refreshing  an  exception  to  that  general  sel- 
fishness which  runs  throughout  the  haunts 
of  business  and  ambition,  for  us  to  say  any 
thing  against  it.    We  are  not  cold-blooded 
enough  to  refuse  our  delighted  concurrence 
to  an  exertion  so  amiable  in  its  principle 
and  so  pleasing  in  the  warm  and  comfort- 
able spectacle  which  it  lays  before  us.    The 
poor,  it  is  true,  ought  never  to  forget,  that 
it  is  to  their  own  industry,  and  to  the  wis- 
dom and  economy  of  their  own  manage- 
ment, that  they  are  to  look  for  the  elements 
of  subsistence — that  if  idleness  and  prodi- 
gality shall  lay  hold  of  the  mass  of  our 
population,  no  benevolence,  however  un- 
bounded, can  ever  repair  a  mischief  so  irre- 
coverable— that  if  they  wul  not  labour  for 
themselves,  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  the 
rich  to  create  a  sufficiency  for  them ;  and 
that  though  every  heart  were  opened,  and 
every  purse  emptied  in  the  cause,  it.  would 
absolutely  go  for  nothing  towards  forming 
a  well-fed,  a  well-lodged,  or  a  well  condi- 
tioned peasantry.    Still,  however,  there  are 
cases  which  no  foresight  could  prevent,  and 
no  industry  could  provide  for — where  the 


CHARITY  SERMON. 


183 


Mow  fails  heavy  and  unexpected  on  some 
devoted  son  or  daughter  of  misfortune,  and 
where,  though  thoughtlessness  and  folly- 
may  have  had  their  share,  benevolence,  not 
very  nice  in  its  calculations,  will  feel  the 
overpowering  claim  of  actual,  helpless,  and 
imploring  mist  ry.  Now,  I  again  offer  my 
cheerful  testimony  to  such  benevolence  as 
this  :  I  count  it  delightful  to  see  it  singling 
out  its  object  ;  and  sustaining  it  against  the 
cruel  pressure  of  age  and  of  indigence ;  and 
when  1  enter  a  cottage  where  I  see  a  warmer 
fire-side,  or  more  substantial  provision,  than 
the  \  isible  means  can  account  for,  I  say  that 
the  landscape,  in  all  its  summer  glories, 
docs  not  offer  an  object  so  gratifying,  as 
when  referred  to  the  vicinity  of  the  great 
man's  house,  and  the  people  who  live  in  it, 
and  am  told  that  I  will  find  my  explanation 
there.  Kind  and  amiable  people !  your 
benevolence  is  most  lovely  in  its  display, 
but  oh !  it  is  perishable  in  its  consequences. 
Does  it  never  occur  to  you  that  in  a  few 
years  this  favourite  will  die — and  that  he 
will  go  to  the  place  where  neither  cold  nor 
hunger  will  reach  him,  but  that  a  mighty 
interest  remains,  of  which  both  of  us  may 
know  the  certainly,  though  neither  you  nor 
I  can  calculate  the  extent.    Your  benevo- 

is  too  short. — It  does  not  shoo  far 
enough  a-head. — It  is  like  regaling  a  child 
with  a  sweetmeat  or  a  toy,  and  then  aban- 
doning the  happy,  unreflecting  infant  to 
exposure.  You  make  the  poor  old  man 
happy  with  your  crumbs  and  your  frag- 
ments, but  he  is  an  infant  on  the  mighty 
range  of  infinite  duration;  and  will  you 
leave  the  soul,  which  has  the  infinity  to  go 
through,  to  its  chance?  How  comes  it  that 
[rave  should  throw  so  impenetrable  a 
shroud  over  the  realities  of  eternity  ?  How 
comes  it  thai  heaven,  and  hell,  and  judg- 
ment,  should  be  treated  as  so  many  nonen- 
tities, and  that  there  should  be  as  little  real 
and  operative  sympathy  felt  for  the  soul 
which  lives  forever,  as  for  the  body  after  it 
i<  dead,  or  for  the  dusl  into  which  it  mould- 
ers'? Eternity  is  longer  than  time;  the 
arithmetic,  my  brethren,  is  all  one  side  upon 
this  question;  and  the  wisdom  which  calcu- 

and  guides  itself  by  calculation,  gives 
its  weighty  and  respectable  support  to  what 
may  be  called  the  benevolence  of  faith. 

Now,  if  there  be  one  employment  more 
fitted  than  another  to  awaken  this  benevo- 
lence, it  is  the  peculiar  employment  of  that 
Society  for  which  I  am  now  pleading.  I 
would  have  anticipated  such  benevolence 
from  the  situation  they  occupy,  and  the  in- 
formation before  the  public  bears  testimony 
to  the  fact.  The  truth  is,  that  the  diseases 
of  he  body  may  be  looked  upon  as  so  many 
outlets  through  which  the  soul  finds  its  wa}r 
to  eternity.  Now,  it  is  at  these  outlets  that 
the  members  of  this  Society  have  stationed 
themselves.  This  is  the  interesting  point  of 


survey  at  which  they  stand,  and  from  which 
they  command  a  look  of  both  worlds.  They 
have  placed  themselves  in  the  avi  nues 
which  lead  from  time  to  eternity, and  they 
have  often  to  witness  the  awful  transition 
of  a  soul  hovering  at  the  entrance — strug- 
gling its  way  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  and  at  last  breaking  loose 
from  the  confines  of  all  that  is  visible.  Do 
you  think  it  likely  that  men  with  such  spec- 
tacles before  them,  will  withstand  the  sense 
of  eternity?  No,  my  brethren,  they  cannot, 
they  have  not.  Eternity,  I  rejoice  to  an- 
nounce to  you.  is  not  forgo-, ten  by  them; 
and  with  their  care  for  the  diseases  of  the 
body,  they  are  neither  blind  nor  indifferent 
to  the  fact,  that  the  soul  is  diseased  also. 
We  know  it  well.  There  is  an  indolent  and 
superficial  theology,  which  turns  its  eyes 
from  the  danger,  and  feels  no  pressing  call 
for  the  application  of  the  remedy — which 
reposes  more  in  its  own  vague  and  self- 
assumed  conceptions  of  the  mercy  of  God, 
than  in  the  firm  and  consistent  representa- 
tions of  the  New  Testament — which  over- 
looks the  existence  of  disease  altogether, 
and  therefore  feels  no  alarm,  and  exerts  no 
urgency  in  the  business — which,  in  the  face 
of  all  the  truths  and  all  the  severities  that 
are  uttered  in  the  word  of  God,  leaves  the 
soul  to  its  chance;  or,  in  other  words,  by- 
neglecting  to  administer  every  thing  spe- 
cific for  the  salvation  of  the  soul,  leaves  it 
to  perish. 

We  do  not  want  to  involve  you  in  con- 
troversies ;  we  only  ask  you  to  open  the 
New  Testament,  and  attend  to  the  obvious 
meaning  of  a  word  which  occurs  frequently 
in  its  pages — we  mean  the  word  saved. 
The  term  surely  implies,  that  the  present 
state  of  the  thing  to  be  saved  is  a  lost  and 
an  undone  state.  If  a  tree  be  in  a  health- 
ful state  from  its  infancy,  you  never  apply 
the  term  saved  to  it,  though  you  sec  its 
beautiful  foliage,  its  flourishing  blossoms, 
its  abundant  produce,  and  its  progressive 
ascent  through  all  the  varieties  incidental 
to  a  sound  and  a  prosperous  tree.  But  if 
it  were  diseased  in  its  infancy,  and  ready 
to  perish,  and  if  it  wen  restored  by  man- 
agement and  artificial  applications,  then 
you  would  say  of  this  tree  that  it  was  saved: 
and  the  very  term  implies  some  previous 
state  of  uselessness  and  corruption.  What, 
then,  arc1  we  to  make  of  the  frequent  occur- 
rence of  this  term  in  the  New  Testament, 
as  applied  to  a  human  being.''  If  men  come 
into  this  world  pure  and  innocent,  and  have 
nothing  more  to  do  but  to  put  forth  the 
powers  with  which  nature  has  endowed 
them,  and  so  rise  through  the  progressive 
stages  of  virtue  and  excellence,  to  tne  re- 
wards of  immortality,  you  would  not  say 
of  these  men  that  they  were  saved,  when 
they  were  translated  to  these  rewards. 
These   rewards  of   man   are  the  natural 


184 


CHARITY  SERMON. 


effects  of  his  obedience,  and  the  term  saved 
is  not  at  all  applicable  to  such  a  supposi- 
tion. But  the  God  of  the  Bible  says  differ- 
ently. If  a  man  obtain  heaven  at  all,  it  is 
by  being  saved.  He  is  in  a  diseased  state, 
and  it  is  by  the  healing  application  of  the 
blood  of  the  Son  of  God,  that  he  is  restored 
from  that  state.  The  very  title  applied  to 
him  proves  the  same  thing.  He  is  called 
our  Saviour.  The  deliverance  which  he 
effects  is  called  our  salvation.  The  men 
whom  he  doth  deliver  are  called  the  saved. 
Doth  not  this  imply  some  previous  state  of 
disease  and  helplessness?  And  from  the 
frequent  and  incidental  occurrence  of  this 
term,  may  we  not  gather  an  additional  tes- 
timony to  the  truth  of  what  is  elsewhere 
more  expressly  revealed  to  us,  that  we  are 
lost  by  nature,  and  that  to  obtain  recovery, 
we  must  be  found  in  Him  who  came  to 
seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost.  He 
that  believeth  on  the  Son  of  God  shall  be 
saved,  but  he  that  believeth  not,  the  wrath 
of  God  abideth  on  him. 

We  know  that  there  are  some  who  loathe 
this  representation  ;  but  this  is  just  another 
example  of  the  substantial  interests  of  the 
poor  being  sacrificed  to  mismanagement 
and  delusion.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  there 
are  many  who  have  looked  the  disease  fairly 
in  the  face,  and  are  ready  to  reach  forward 
the  remedy  adapted  to  relieve  it.  We  should 
have  no  call  to  attend  to  the  spiritual  in- 
terests of  men,  if  they  could  safely  be  left 
to  themselves,  and  to  the  spontaneous  ope- 
ration of  those  powers  with  which  it  is  sup- 
posed that  nature  has  endowed  them.  But 
this  is  not  the  state  of  the  case.  We  come 
into  the  world  with  the  principles  of  sin  and 
condemnation  within  us ;  and,  in  the  con- 
genial atmosphere  of  this  world's  example, 
these  ripen  fast  for  the  execution  of  the 
sentence.  During  the  period  of  this  short 
but  interesting  passage  to  another  world, 
the  remedy  is  in  the  gospel  held  out  to  all, 
and  the  freedom  and  universality  of  its  in- 
vitations, while  it  opens  assured  admission 
to.  all  who  will,  must  aggravate  the  weight 
and  severity  of  the  sentence  to  those  who 
will  not ;  and  upon  them  the  dreadful  en- 
ergy of  that  saying  will  be  accomplished, — 
"  How  shall  they  escape  if  they  neglect  so 
great  a  salvation  ?" 

We  know  part  of  your  labours  for  the 
eternity  of  the  poor.  We  know  that  you 
have  brought  the  Bible  into  contact  with 
many  a  soul.  And  we  are  sure  that  this  is 
suiting  the  remedy  to  the  disease ;  for  the 
Bible  contains  those  words  which  are  the 


power  of  God  through  faith  unto  salvation, 
to  every  one  who  believes  them. 

To  this  established  instrument  for  work- 
ing faith  in  the  heart,  add  the  instrument 
of  hearing.  When  you  give  the  Bible,  ac- 
company the  gift  with  the  living  energy 
of  a  human  voice — let  prayer,  and  advice, 
and  explanation,  be  brought  to  act  upon 
them ;  and  let  the  warm  and  deeply  felt 
earnestness  of.  your  hearts,  discharge  itself 
upon  theirs  in  the  impressive  tones  of  sin- 
cerity, and  friendship,  and  good  will.  This 
is  going  substantially  to  work.  It  is,  if  I 
may  use  the  expression,  bringing  the  right 
element  to  bear  upon  the  case  before  you ; 
and  be  assured,  every  treatment  of  a  con- 
vinced and  guilty  mind  is  superficial  and 
ruinous,  which  does  not.  lead  it  to  the  Sa- 
viour, and  bring  before  it  his  sacrifice  and 
atonement,  and  the  influences  of  that  spirit 
bestowed  through  his  obedience  on  all  who 
believe  on  Him. 

While  in  the  full  vigour  of  health  we  may 
count  it  enough  to  take  up  with  something 
short  of  this.  But — striking  testimony  to 
evangelical  truth !  go  to  the  awful  reality 
of  a  human  soul  on  the  eve  of  its  departure 
from  the  body,  and  you  will  find  that  all 
those  vapid  sentimentalities  which  partake 
not  of  the  substantial  doctrine  of  the  New 
Testament,  are  good  for  nothing.  Hold  up 
your  face,  my  brethren,  for  the  truth  and 
simplicity  of  the  Bible.  Be  not  ashamed 
of  its  phraseology.  It  is  the  right  instru- 
ment to  handle  in  the  great  work  of  calling 
a  human  soul  out  of  darkness  into  marvel- 
lous light.  Stand  firm  and  secure  on  the 
impregnable  principle,  that  this  is  the  word 
of  God,  and  th?t  all  taste,  and  imagination, 
and  science,  must  give  way  before  its  over- 
bearing authority.  Walk  in  the  footsteps 
of  your  Saviour,  in  the  twofold  office  of 
caring  for  the  diseases  of  the  body,  and  ad- 
ministering to  the  wants  of  the  soul ;  and 
though  you  may  fail  in  the  former — though 
the  patient  may  never  arise  and  walk,  yet, 
by  the  blessing  of  Heaven  upon  your  fer- 
vent and  effectual  endeavours,  the  latter  ob- 
ject may  be  gained — the  soul  may  be  light- 
ened of  all  its  anxieties,  the  whole  burden  of 
its  diseases  may  be  swept  away — it  may  be 
of  good  cheer,  because  its  sins  are  forgiven 
— and  the  right  direction  may  be  impressed 
upon  it,  which  will  carry  it  forward  in  pro- 
gress to  a  happy  eternity.  Death  may  not 
be  averted,  but  death  maybe  disarmed.  It 
may  be  stript  of  its  terrors,  and  instead  of 
a  devouring  enemy,  it  may  be  hailed  as  a 
messenger  of  triumph. 


THOUGHTS  ON  UNIVERSAL  PEACE. 


A  SERMON, 

DELIVERED  ON  THURSDAY,  JANUARY  18,  1816,  THE  DAY  OF  NATIONAL 
THANKSGIVING  FOR  THE  RESTORATION  OF  PEACE. 


"  Nation  shall  not  lift  up  sword  against  nation,  neither  shall  they  learn  war  any  more."— Isaiah  ii.  4. 


There  are  a  great  many  passages  in 
Scripture  which  warrant  the  expectation 
thai  ;t  time  is  coming,  when  an  end  shall  be 
put  to  war — when  its  abominations  and  its 
cruelties  shall  be  banished  from  the  face  of 
the  earth — when  those  restless  elements  of 
ambition  and  jealousy  which  have  so  long 
kept  the  species  in  a  state  of  unceasing 
commotion,  and  are  ever  and  anon  sending 
another  and  another  wave  over  the  field  of 
this  world's  politics,  shall  at  length  be 
hushed  into  a  placid  and  ever-during  calm  ; 
and  many  and  delightful  are  the  images 
which  the  Bible  employs,  as  guided  by  the 
light  of  prophecy,  it  carries  us  forward  to 
those  millennial  days,  when  the  reign  of 
peace  shall  be  established,  and  the  wide 
charity  of  the  gospel,  which  is  confined  by 
no  limits,  and  owns  no  distinctions,  shall 
embosom  the  whole  human  race  within  the 
ample  grasp  of  one  harmonious  and  uni- 
versal family. 

But  before  I  proceed,  let  me  attempt  to 
do  away  a  delusion  which  exists  on  the 
subject  of  prophecy.  Its  fulfilments  are  all 
certain,  say  many,  and  we  have  therefore 
nothing  to  do,  but  to  wait  for  them  in  pas- 
sive and  indolent  expectation.  The  truth 
of  God  stands  in  no  dependence  on  human 
aid  to  vindicate  the  immutability  of  all  his 
announcements;  and  the  power  of  God 
stands  in  no  need  of  the  feeble  exertions  of 
man  to  hasten  the  accomplishment  of  any 
of  his  purposes.  Let  us  therefore  sit  down 
quietly  in  the  attitude  of  spectators — let  us 
Leave  the  Divinity  to  do  his  own  work  in 
his  own  way,  and  in  irk,  by  the  progress  of 
a  history  over  which  we  have  no  control, 
the  evolution  of  his  designs,  and  the  march 
of  his  wis"  and  I  uieficent  administration. 

Now,  it  is  very  true,  that  the  Divinity 
will  do  his  own  work  in  his  own  way,  but 
if  he  choose  to  tell  us  that  that  way  is  not 
without  the  instrumentality  of  men,  but  by 
their  instrumentality,  might  not  this  sitting 
down  into  the  mere  attitude  of  spectators, 
turn  out  to  be  a  most  perverse  and  disobe- 
dient conclusion?  It  is  true,  that  his  pur- 
pose will  obtain  its  fulfilment,  whether  we 
24 


shall  offer  or  not  to  help  it  forward  by  our 
co-operation.  But  if  the  object  is  to  be 
brought  about,  and  if,  in  virtue  of  the  same 
sovereignty  by  which  he  determined  upon 
the  object,  he  has  also  determined  on  the 
way  which  leads  to  it,  and  that  that  way 
shall  be  by  the  acting  of  human  principle, 
and  the  putting  forth  of  human  exertion, 
then,  let  us  keep  back  our  co-operation  as 
we  may,  God  will  raise  up  the  hearts  of 
others  to  that  which  we  abstain  from ;  and 
they,  admitted  into  the  high  honour  of  be- 
ing fellow-workers  with  God,  may  do  ho- 
mage to  the  truth  of  his  prophecy,  while 
we,  perhaps,  may  unconsciously  do  dread- 
ful homage  to  the  truth  of  another  warning, 
and  another  prophecy  :  "  I  work  a  work  in 
your  days  which  you  shall  not  believe, 
though  a  man  declare  it  unto  you.  Behold, 
ye  despisers,  and  wonder  and  perish." 

Now  this  is  the  very  way  in  which  pro- 
phecies have  been  actually  fulfilled.  The 
return  of  the  people  of  Israel  to  their  own 
land,  was  an  event  predicted  by  inspiration, 
and  was  brought  about  by  the  stirring  up 
of  the  spirit  of  Cyrus,  who  felt  himself 
charged  with  the  duty  of  building  a  house 
to  God  at  Jerusalem.  The  pouring  out  of 
the  Spirit  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  was  fore- 
told by  the  Saviour  ere  he  left  the  world, 
and  was  accomplished  upon  men  wdio  as- 
sembled themselves  together  at  the  place 
to  which  they  were  commanded  to  repair ; 
and  there  they  waited,  and  they  prayed. 
The  rapid  propagation  of  Christianity  in 
those  days  was  known  by  the  human  agents 
of  this  propagation,  to  be  made  sure  by  the 
word  of  prophecy  ;  but  the  way  in  which 
it  was  actually  made  sure,  was  by  the 
strenuous  exertions,  the  unexampled  hero- 
ism, the  holy  devotedness  and  zeal  of  mar- 
tyrs, and  apostles,  and  evangelists.  And 
even  now,  my  brethren,  while  no  profess- 
ing Christian  can  deny  that  their  faith  is  to 
be  one  day  the  faith  of  all  countries ;  but 
while  many  of  them  idly  sit  and  wait  the 
time  of  (God  putting  forth  some  mysterious 
and  unheard  of  agency,  to  bring  about  the 
universal  diffusion,  there  are  men  who  have 


186 


THOUGHTS  ON  PEACE. 


betaken  themselves  to  the  obvious  expedient 
of  going  abroad  among  the  nations,  and 
teaching  them;  and  though  derided  by  an 
undeserving  world,  they  seem  to  be  the 
very  men  pointed  out  by  the  Bible,  who 
are  going  to  and  fro  increasing  the  know- 
ledge of  its  doctrines,  and  who  will  be  the 
honoured  instruments  of  carrying  into  ef- 
fect the  most  splendid  of  all  its  anticipa- 
tions. 

Now,  the  same  holds  true,  I  apprehend, 
of  the  prophecy  in  my  text.  The  abolition 
of  war  will  be  the  effect  not  of  any  sudden 
or  resistless  visitation  from  heaven  on  the 
character  of  men — not  of  any  mystical  in- 
fluence working  with  all  the  omnipotence 
of  a  charm  on  the  passive  hearts  of  those 
who  are  the  subjects  of  it — not  of  any  blind 
or  overruling  fatality  which  will  come  upon 
the  earth  at  some  distant  period  of  its  his- 
tory, and  about  which,  we,  of  the  present 
day,  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  look  silently 
on,  without  concern,  and  without  co-ope- 
ration. The  prophecy  of  a  peace  as  uni- 
versal as  the  spread  of  the  human  race,  and 
as  enduring  as  the  moon  in  the  firmament, 
will  meet  its  accomplishment,  ay,  and  at 
that  very  time  which  is  already  fixed  by 
Him  who  seeth  the  end  of  all  things  from 
the  beginning  thereof.  But  it  will  be  brought 
about  by  the  activity  of  men.  It  will  be 
done  by  the  philanthropy  of  thinking  and 
intelligent  Christians.  The  conversion  of 
the  Jews — the  spread  of  the  gospel  light 
among  the  regions  of  idolatry — these  are 
distinct  subjects  of  prophecy,  on  which  the 
faithful  of  the  land  are  now  acting,  and  to 
the  fulfilment  of  which  they  are  giving  their 
zeal  and  their  energy.  I  conceive  the  pro- 
phecy which  relates  to  the  final  aboliti6n  of 
war  will  be  taken  up  in  the  same  manner, 
and  the  subject  will  be  brought  to  the  test 
of  christian  principle,  and  many  will  unite 
to  spread  a  growing  sense  of  its  follies  and 
its  enormities,  over  the  countries  of  the 
world — and  the  public  will  be  enlightened, 
not  by  the  factious  and  turbulent  declama- 
tions of  a  party,  but  by  the  mild  dissemina- 
tion of  gospel  sentiment  through  the  land — 
and  the  prophecy  contained  in  this  book 
will  pass  into  effect  and  accomplishment, 
by  no  other  influence  than  the  influence  of 
its  ordinary  lessons  on  the  hearts  and  con- 
sciences of  individuals — and  the  measure 
will  first  be  carried  in  one  country,  not  by 
the  unhallowed  violence  of  discontent,  but 
by  the  control  of  general  opinion,  expressed 
on  the  part  of  a  people,  who,  if  Christian 
in  their  repugnance  to  war,  will  be  equally 
Christian  in  all  the  loyalties,  and  subjections, 
and  meek  unresisting  virtues  of  the  New 
Testament — and  the  sacred  fire  of  good-will 
to  the  children  of  men  will  spread  itself 
through  all  climes,  and  through  all  lati- 
tudes— and  thus  by  scriptural  truth  con- 
veyed with  power  from  one  people  to  an- 


other, and  taking  its  ample  round  among 
all  the  tribes  and  families  of  the  earth,  shall 
we  arrive  at  the  magnificent  result  of  peace 
throughout  all  its  provinces,  and  security  in 
all  its  dwelling-places. 

In  the  further  prosecution  of  this  dis- 
course, I  shall,  first,  expatiate  a  little  on  the 
evils  of  war. 

In  the  second  place,  I  shall  direct  your 
attention  to  the  obstacles  which  stand  in 
the  way  of  its  extinction,  and  which  threaten 
to  retard  for  a  time  the  accomplishment  of  ' 
the  prophecy  I  have  now  selected  for  your 
consideration. 

And,  in  the  third  place,  I  shall  endeavour 
to  point  out,  what  can  only  be  done  at 
present  in  a  hurried  and  superficial  man- 
ner, some  of  the  expedients  by  which  these 
obstacles  may  be  done  away. 

I.  I  shall  expatiate  a  little  on  the  evils  of 
war.  The  mere  existence  of  the  prophecy 
in  my  text,  is  a  sentence  of  condemnation 
upon  war,  and  stamps  a  criminality  on  its 
very  forehead.  So  soon  as  Christianity 
shall  gain  a  full  ascendenc)^  in  the  world, 
from  that  moment  war  is  to  disappear.  We 
have  heard  that  there  is  something  noble  in 
the  art  of  war;  that  there  is  something 
generous  in  the  ardour  of  that  fine  cliivalric 
spirit  which  kindles  in  the  hour  of  alarm, 
and  rushes  with  delight  among  the  thickest 
scenesof  danger  and  of  enterpiisc:—  that  man 
is  never  more  proudly  arrayed,  than  when, 
elevated  by  a  contempt  for  death,  he  puts 
on  his  intrepid  front,  and  looks  serene, 
while  the  arrows  of  destruction  are  flying 
on  every  side  of  him  : — that  expunge  war, 
and  you  expunge  some  of  the  brightest 
names  in  the  catalogue  of  human  virtue, 
and  demolish  that  theatre  on  which  have 
been  displayed  some  of  the  sublimest  ener- 
gies of  the  human  character.  It  is  thus  that 
war  has  been  invested  with  a  most  perni- 
cious splendour,  and  men  have  offered  to 
justify  it  as  a  blessing  and  an  ornament  to 
society,  and  attempts  have  been  made  to 
throw  a  kind  of  imposing  morality  around 
it;  and  one  might  almost  be  reconciled  to 
the  whole  train  of  its  calamities  and  its  hor- 
rors, did  he  not  believe  his  YAh]c,  and  learn 
from  its  information,  that  in  the  days  of 
perfect  righteousness,  there  will  be  no 
war; — that  so  soon  as  the  character  of  man 
has  had  the  last  finish  of  Christian  principle 
thrown  over  it,  from  that  moment  all  the 
instruments  of  war  will  be  thrown  aside. 
and  all  its  lessons  will  be  forgotten  :  that 
therefore  what  are  called  the  virtues  of  Mar, 
are  no  virtues  at  all,  or  that  a  better  and  a 
worthier  scene  will  be  provided  for  their 
exercise ;  but  in  short,  that  at  the  com- 
mencement of  that  blissful  era,  when  the 
reign  of  heaven  shall  be  established,  war 
will  take  its  departure  from  the  world  with 
all  the  other  plagues  and  atrocities  of  the 
species. 


THOUGHTS  ON  PEACE. 


187 


But  apart  altogether  from  tin's  testimony 
to  the  evil  of  war,  let  ns  just  take  a  direct 
look  of  it,  and  see  whether  we  can  find  its 
character  engraved  on  the  aspect  it  bears 
to  the  eye  of  an  attentive  observer.  The 
stoutest  heart  of  this  assembly  would  recoil, 
were  he  who  owns  it,  to  behold  the  de- 
struction of  a  single  individual  by  some 
deed  of  violence.  Were  the  man  who  at 
this  moment  stands  before  you  in  the  full 
play  and  energy  of  health,  to  be  in  another 
moment  laid  by  some  deadly  aim  a  lifeless 
corpse  at  your  feet,  there  is  not  one  of  you 
who  would  not  prove  how  strong  are  the 
relentings  of  nature  at  a  spectacle  so  hide- 
ous as  death.  There  are  some  of  you  who 
would  be  haunted  for  whole  days  by  the 
image  of  horror  you  had  witnessed — who 
would  feel  the  weight  of  a  most  oppressive 
sensation  upon  your  heart,  which  nothing 
but  time  could  wear  away — who  would  be 
so  pursued  by  it  as  to  be  unfit  for  business 
or  for  enjoyment — who  would  think  of  it 
through  the  day,  and  it  would  spread  a 
gloomy  disquietude  over  your  waking  mo- 
ments— who  would  dream  of  it  at  night, 
and  it  would  turn  that  bed  which  you 
courted  as  a  retreat  from  the  torments  of 
an  ever-meddling  memory,  into  a  scene  of 
restlessness. 

But  generally  the  death  of  violence  is  not 
instantaneous,  and  there  is  often  a  sad  and 
dreary  interval  between  its  final  consumma- 
tion, and  the  infliction  of  the  blow  which 
causes  it.  The  winged  messenger  of  de- 
struction has  not  found  its  direct  avenue  to 
that  spot,  where  the  principle  of  life  is  situ- 
ated— and  the  soul,  finding  obstacles  to  its 
immediate  egress,  has  to  struggle  it  for 
hourt,  ere  it  can  make  its  weary  way 
through  the  winding  avenues  of  that  te- 
nement,  which  has  been  torn  open  by  a 
brother's  hand.  O  !  my  brother,  if  there 
be  something  appalling  in  the  suddenness 
of  death,  think  not  that  when  gradual  in  its 
advances,  you  will  alleviate  the  horrors  of 
this  sickening  contemplation,  by  viewing  it 
in  a  milder  form.  O  !  tell  me,  if  there  be 
any  relentings  of  pity  in  your  bosom,  how 
could  s  on  endure  it,  to  behold  the  agonies 
of  the  dying  man— as  goaded  by  pain, 
he  grasps  the  cold  ground  in  convulsive 
energy,  or  faint  with  the  loss  of  blood,  his 
pulse  ebbs  low,  and  the  gathering  pale- 
ness spreads  itself  over  his  countenance;  or 
wrapping  himself  round  in  despair,  he  can 
only  mark  by  a  few  feeble  quiverings,  that 
life  still  lurks  and  lingers  in  his  lacerated 
body  ;  or  lifting  up  a  faded  eye,  he  easts 
on  you  a  look  of  imploring  helplessness, 
for  that  succour  which  no  sympathy  can 
yield  him.  It  may  be  painful  to  dwell  on 
such  a  representation  ;  but  this  is  the  way 
in  which  the  cause  of  humanity  is  served. 
The  eye  of  the  sentimentalist  turns  away 
from  its  sufferings,  and  he  passes  by  on  the 


other  side,  lest  he  hear  that  pleading  voice, 
which  is  armed  with  a  tone  of  remon- 
strance so  vigorous  as  to  disturb  him.  He 
cannot  bear  thus  to  pause,  in  imagination, 
on  the  distressing  picture  of  one  individual. 
but  multiply  it  ten  thousand  times ;  say, 
how  much  of  all  this  distress  has  been 
heaped  together  upon  a  single  field  ;  give 
us  the  arithmetic  of  this  accumulated 
wretchedness,  and  lay  it  before  us  with  all 
the  accuracy  of  an  official  computation — 
and  strange  to  tell,  not  one  sigh  is  lifted  up 
among  the  crowd  of  eager  listeners,  as  they 
stand  on  tiptoe,  and  catch  every  syllable  of 
utterance,  which  is  read  to  them  out  of  the 
registers  of  death.  O !  say,  what  mystic 
spell  is  that,  which  so  blinds  us  to  the  suffer- 
ings of  our  brethren  ;  which  deafens  to  our 
ear  the  voice  of  bleeding  humanity,  when  it 
is  aggravated  by  the  shriek  of  dying  thou- 
sands; which  makes  the  very  magnitude 
of  the  slaughter,  throw  a  softening  disguise 
over  its  cruelties,  and  its  horrors ;  which 
causes  us  to  eye  with  indifference,  the  field 
that  is  crowded  with  the  most  revolting 
abominations,  and  arrests  that  sigh,  which 
each  individual  would  singly  have  drawn 
from  us,  by  the  report  of  the  many  who 
have  fallen,  and  breathed  their  last  in  agony 
along  with  them. 

I  am  not  saying  that  the  burden  of  al! 
this  criminality  rests  upon  the  head  of  the 
immediate  combatants.  It  lies  somewhere; 
but  who  can  deny  that  a  soldier  may  be  a 
Christian,  and  that,  from  the  bloody  field 
on  which  his  body  is  laid,  his  soul  may 
wing  its  ascending  way  to  the  shores  of  a 
peaceful  eternity?  But  when  I  think  that 
the  Christians,  even  of  the  great  world,  form 
but  a  very  little  flock,  and  that  an  army  is 
not  a  propitious  soil  for  the  growth  of  chris- 
tian principle — when  I  think  on  the  cha- 
racter of  one  such  army,  that  had  been  led 
on  for  years  by  a  ruffian .  ambition,  and 
been  inured  to  scenes  of  barbarity,  and  had 
gathered  a  most  ferocious  hardihood  of 
soul,  from  the  many  enterprises  of  violence 
to  which  an  unprincipled  commander  had 
carried  them — when  I  follow  them  to  the 
field  of  battle,  and  further  think,  that  on 
both  sides  of  an  exasperated  contest — the 
gentleness  of  Christianity  can  have  no  place 
in  almost  any  bosom  ;  but  that  nearly  every 
heart  is  lighted  up  with  fury,  and  breathes 
a  vindictive  purpose  against  a  brother  of 
the  species,  I  cannot  but  reckon  it  among 
the  most  fearful  of  the  calamities  of  war — 
that  while  the  work  of  death  is  thickening 
along  its  ranks,  so  many  disembodied  spirits 
should  pass  into  the  presence  of  Him  who 
sitteth  upon  the  throne,  in  such  a  posture, 
and  with  such  a  preparation. 

I  have  no  time,  and  assuredly  as  little 
taste,  for  expatiating  on  a  topic  so  melan- 
choly, nor  can  I  afford  at  present,  to  set  be- 
fore you  a  vivid  picture  of  the  other  mise- 


188 


THOUGHTS  ON  PEACE. 


ries  which  war  carries  in  its  train — how  it 
desolates  every  country  through  which  it 
rolls,  and  spreads  violation  and  alarm 
among  its  villages — how,  at  its  approach, 
every  home  pours  forth  its  trembling  fugi- 
tives — how  all  the  rights  of  property,  and 
all  the  provisions  of  justice  must  give  way 
before  its  devouring  exactions — how,  when 
Sabbath  comes,  no  Sabbath  charm  comes 
along  with  it — and  for  the  sound  of  the 
church  bell,  which  wont  to  spread  its  music 
over  some  fine  landscape  of  nature,  and 
summon  rustic  worshippers  to  the  house 
of  prayer — nothing  is  heard  but  the  death- 
ful  vollies  of  the  battle,  and  the  maddening 
outcry  of  infuriated  men — how,  as  the  fruit 
of  victory,  an  unprincipled  licentiousness, 
which  no  discipline  can  restrain,  is  suffered 
to  walk  at  large  among  the  people — and  all 
that  is  pure,  and  reverend,  and  holy,  in  the 
virtue  of  families,  is  cruelly  trampled  on, 
and  held  in  the  bitterest  derision. 

Oh !  my  brethren,  were  we  to  pursue 
those  details,  which  no  pen  ever  attempts, 
and  no  chronicle  perpetuates,  we  should  be 
tempted  to  ask,  what  that  is  which  civiliza- 
tion has  done  for  the  character  of  the 
species  ?  It  has  thrown  a  few  paltry  embel- 
lishments over  the  surface  of  human  affairs, 
and  for  the  order  of  society,  it  has  reared 
the  defences  of  law  around  the  rights  and 
the  property  of  the  individuals  who  com- 
pose it.  But  let  war,  legalized  as  you  may, 
and  ushered  into  the  field  with  all  the  pa- 
rade of  forms  and  manifestos — let  this  war 
only  have  its  season,  and  be  suffered  to 
overleap  these  artificial  defences,  and  you 
will  soon  see  how  much  the  security  of  the 
commonwealth  is  due  to  positive  restric- 
tions, and  how  little  of  it  is  due  to  a  natural 
sense  of  justice  among  men.  I  know  well,  that 
the  plausibilities  of  human  character  which 
abound  in  every  modern  and  enlightened 
society,  have  been  mustered  up  to  oppose 
the  doctrine  of  the  Bible,  on  the  woful  de- 
pravity of  our  race.  But  out  of  the  history  of 
war,  I  can  gather  for  this  doctrine  the  evi- 
dence of  experiment.  It  tells  me,  that  man 
when  left  to  himself,  and  let  loose  among 
his  fellows,  to  walk  after  the  counsel  of  his 
own  heart,  and  in  the  sight  of  his  own  eyes, 
will  soon  discover  how  thin  that  tinsel  is, 
which  the  boasted  hand  of  civilization  has 
thrown  over  him.  And  we  have  only  to 
blow  the  trumpet  of  war,  and  proclaim  to 
man  the  hour  of  his  opportunity,  that  his 
character  may  show  itself  in  its  essential 
elements — and  that  we  may  see  how  many, 
m  this  our  moral  and  enlightened  day, 
would  spring  forward,  as  to  a  jubilee  of 
delight,  and  prowl  like  the  wild  men  of 
the  woods,  amidst  scenes  of  rapacity,  and 
cruelty,  and  violence. 

II.  But  let  me  hasten  away  from  this 
part  of  the  subject,  and  in  the  second  place, 
direct  your  attention  to  those    obstacles 


which  stand  in  the  way  of  the  extinction 
of  war,  and  which  threaten  to  retard,  for 
a  time,  the  accomplishment  of  the  pro- 
phecy I  have  now  selected  for  your  consi- 
deration. 

Is  this  the  time,  it  may  be  asked,  to  com- 
plain of  obstacles  to  the  extinction  of  war, 
when  peace  has  been  given  to  the  nations, 
and  we  are  assembled  to  celebrate  its  tri- 
umphs? Is  this  day  of  high  and  solemn 
gratulation,  to  be  turned  to  such  forebod- 
ings as  these  ?  The  whole  of  Europe  is 
now  at  rest  from  the  tempest  which  con- 
vulsed it — and  a  solemn  treaty  with  all  its 
adjustments,  and  all  its  guarantees,  pro- 
mises a  firm  perpetuity  to  the  repose  of 
the  world.  We  have  long  fought  for  a  hap- 
pier order  of  things,  and  at  length  we  have 
established  it — and  the  hard-earned  bequest, 
we  hand  down  to  posterity  as  a  rich  inherit- 
ance, won  by  the  labours  and  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  present  generation.  That  gi- 
gantic ambition  which  stalked  in  triumph 
over  the  firmest  and  the  oldest  of  our  mo- 
narchies, is  now  laid— and  can  never  again 
burst  forth  from  the  confinement  of  its 
prison-hold  to  waken  a  new  uproar,  and  to 
send  forth  new  troubles  over  the  face  of  a 
desolated  world. 

Now,  in  reply  to  this,  let  it  be  observed, 
that  every  interval  of  repose  is  precious; 
every  breathing  time  from  the  work  of  vio- 
lence is  to  be  rejoiced  in  by  the  friends  of 
humanity;  every  agreement  among  the 
powers  of  the  earth,  by  which  a  temporary 
respite  can  be  gotten  from  the  calamities 
of  war,  is  so  much  reclaimed  from  the 
amount  of  those  miseries  that  afflict  the 
world,  and  of  those  crimes,  the  cry  of 
which  ascendeth  unto  heaven,  and  bringeth 
down  the  judgments  of  God  on  this  dark 
and  rebellious  province  of  his  creation.  I 
trust,  that  on  this  day,  gratitude  to  Him 
who  alone  can  still  the  tumults  of  the  peo- 
ple, will  be  the  sentiment  of  every  heart; 
and  I  trust,  that  none  who  now  hear  me, 
will  refuse  to  evince  his  gratitude  to  the 
Author  of  the  New  Testament,  by  their 
obedience  to  one  of  the  most  distinct  and 
undoubted  of  its  lessons ;  I  mean  the  lesson 
of  a  reverential  and  submissive  loyalty.  I 
cannot  pass  an  impartial  eye  over  this  re- 
cord of  God's  will,  without  perceiving  the 
utter  repugnance  that  there  is  between  the 
spirit  of  Christianity,  and  the  factious,  tur- 
bulent, unquenchable,  and  ever-meddling 
spirit  of  political  disaffection.  I  will  not 
compromise,  by  the  surrender  of  a  single 
jot  or  tittle,  the  integrity  of  that  precep- 
tive code  which  my  Saviour  hath  left  be- 
hind him  for  the  obedience  of  his  disciples. 
I  will  not  detach  the  very  minutest  of  its 
features,  from  the  fine  picture  of  morality 
that  Christ  hath  bequeathed,  both  by  com- 
mandment and  example,  to  adorn  the  na 
ture  he  condescended  to  wear— and  sure  I 


THOUGHTS  ON  PEACE. 


189 


am  that  the  man  who  has  drunk  in -the  en- 
tire spirit  of  the  gospel — who,  reposing 
himself  on  the  faith  of  its  promised  immor- 
tality,can  maintain  an  elevated  calm  amid 
all  the  fluctuations  of  this  world's  interest 
—whose  exclusive  ambition  is  to  be  the 
unexcepted  pupil  of  pure,  and  spiritual, 
and  self-denying  Christianity — sure  I  am 
that  such  a  man  will  honour  the  king  and 
all  who  arc  in  authority — and  be  subject 
unto  them  for  the  sake  of  conscience — and 
render  unto  them  all  their  dues — and  not 
withhold  a  single  fraction  of  the  tribute 
they  impose  upon  him — and  be  the  best  of 
subjects,  just  because  he  is  the  best  of 
Christians— resisting  none  of  the  ordi- 
nances of  God,  and  living  a  quiet  and  a 
peaceable  life  in  all  godliness  and  honesty. 
But  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  advance  a 
further  testimony  in  behalf  of  that  govern- 
ment with  which  it  has  pleased  God,  who 
appointeth  to  all  men  the  bounds  of  their 
habitation,  to  bless  that  portion  of  the  globe 
that  we  occupy.  I  count  it  such  a  govern- 
ment, that  I  not  only  owe  it  the  loyalty  of 
my  principles — but  I  also  owe  it  the  loyalty 
of  my  affections.  I  could  not  lightly  part 
with  my  devotion  to  that  government 
which  the  other  year  opened  the  door  to 
the  Christianization  of  India — I  shall  never 
withhold  the  tribute  of  my  reverence  from 
that  government  which  put  an  end  to  the 
atrocities  of  the  Slave  Trade — I  shall  never 
forget  the  triumph,  which,  in  that  proud- 
est day  of  Britain's  glory,  the  cause  of  hu- 
manity gained  within  the  walls  of  our  en- 
lightened Parliament.  Let  my  right  hand 
forget  her  cunning,  ere  I  forget  that  coun- 
try of  my  birth,  where,  in  defiance  to  all 
the  clamours  of  mercantile  alarm,  every 
calculation  of  interest  was  given  to  the 
wind,  and  braving  every  hazard,  she  nobly 
resolved  to  shake  off  the  whole  burden  of 
infamy,  which  lay  upon  her.  I  shall  never 
forget,  that  how  to  complete  the  object  in 
behalf  of  which  she  has  so  honourably  led 
the  way,  she  has  walked  the  whole  round 
of  civilized  society,  and  knocked  at  the 
door  of  every  government  in  Europe,  and 
lifted  her  imploring  voice  for  injured  Africa, 
and  plead  with  the  mightiest  monarchs  of 
the  world,  the  cause  of  her  outraged  shores, 
and  her  distracted  families.  I  can  neither 
shut  my  heart  nor  my  eyes  to  the  fact,  that 
at  this  moment  she  is  stretching  forth  the 
protection  of  her  naval  arm,  and  shielding, 
to  the  uttermost  of  her  vigour,  that  coast 
where  an  inhuman  avarice  is  still  plying 
its  guilty  devices,  and  aiming  to  perpetuate 
among  an  unoffending  people,  a  trade  of 
cruelty,  with  all  the  horrid  train  of  its  ter- 
rors and  abominations.  Were  such  a  govern- 
ment as  this  to  be  swept  from  its  base, 
either  by  the  violence  of  foreign  hostility, 
or  by  the  hands  of  her  own  misled  and  in- 
fatuated children — I  should  never  cease  to 


deplore  it  as  the  deadliest  interruption, 
which  ever  had  been  given  to  the  inten  sts 
of  human  virtue,  and  to  the  march  of  hu- 
man improvement.  O!  how  it  should  swell 
every  heart,  not  with  pride,  hut  with  gra- 
titude, to  think  that  the  land  of  our  fathers, 
with  all  the  iniquities  which  abound  in  it, 
with  all  the  profligacy  which  spreads 
along  our  streets,  and  all  the  profan 
that  is  heard  among  our  companies — to 
think  that  this  our  land,  overspread  as  it  is 
with  the  appalling  characters  of  guilt,  is 
still  the  securest  asylum  of  worth  and  liber- 
ty— that  this  is  the  land,  from  which  the 
most  copious  emanations  of  Christianity 
are  going  forth  to  all  the  quarters  of  the 
world — that  this  is  the  land,  which  teems 
from  one  end  to  the  other  of  it  with  the 
most  splendid  designs  and  enterprises  for 
the  good  of  the  species — that  this  is  the 
land,  where  public  principle  is  most  felt, 
and  public  objects  are  most  prosecuted, 
and  the  fine  impulse  of  a  public  spirit  is 
most  ready  to  carry  its  generous  people 
beyond  the  limits  of  a  selfish  and  contract- 
ed patriotism.  Yes,  and  when  the  heart 
of  the  philanthropist  is  sinking  within  him 
at  the  gloomy  spectacle  of  those  crimes 
and  atrocities,  which  still  deform  the  his- 
tory of  man,  I  know  not  a  single  earthly 
expedient  more  fitted  to  brighten  and  sus- 
tain him,  than  to  turn  his  eye  to  the  coun- 
try in  which  he  lives — and  there  see  the 
most  enlightened  government  in  the  world 
acting  as  the  organ  of  its  most  moral  and 
intelligent  population. 

It  is  not  against  the  government  of  my 
country,  therefore,  that  I  direct  my  ob- 
servations— but  against  that  nature  of  man, 
in  the  infirmities  of  which  we  all  share,  and 
the  evil  of  which  no  government  can  ex- 
tinguish. We  have  carried  a  new  political 
arrangement,  and  we  experience  the  result 
of  it,  a  temporary  calm — but  we  have  not 
yet  carried  our  way  to  the  citadel  of  hu- 
man passions.  The  elements  of  war  are 
hushed  for  a  season — but  these  elements 
are  not  destroyed.  They  still  rankle  in 
many  an  unsubdued  heart — and  I  am  too 
well  taught  by  the  history  of  the  past,  and 
the  experience  of  its  restless  variations,  not 
to  believe  that  they  will  burst  forth  again 
in  thunder  over  the  face  of  society.  No, 
my  brethren,  it  will  only  be  when  diffused 
and  vital  Christianity  comes  upon  the  earth, 
that  an  enduring  peace  will  come  along 
with  it.  The  prophecy  of  my  text  will 
obtain  its  fulfilment— but  not  till  the  fulfil- 
ment of  the  verses  which  go  before  it; — 
not  till  the  influence  of  the  gospel  has 
found  its  way  to  the  human  bosom,  and 
plucked  out  of  it  the  elementary  principles 
of  war;— not  till  the  law  of  love  shaft 
spread  its  melting  and  all-subduing  efficacy, 
among  the  children  of  one  common  nature: 
not  till  ambition  be  dethroned  from  its  mas- 


190 


THOUGHTS  ON  PEACE. 


tery  over  the  affections  of  the  inner  man  ; 
— not  till  the  guilty  splendours  of  war  shall 
cease  to  captivate  its  admirers,  and  spread 
the  blaze  of  a  deceitful  heroism  over  the 
wholesale  butchery  of  the  species ; — not  till 
national  pride  be  humbled,  and  man  shall 
learn,  that  if  it  be  individually  the  duty  of 
each  of  us  in  honour  to  prefer  one  another ; 
then  let  these  individuals  combine  as  they 
may,  and  form  societies  as  numerous  and 
extensive  as  they  may,  and  each  of  these 
be  swelled  out  to  the  dimensions  of  an  em- 
pire, still,  that  mutual  condescension  and 
forbearance  remain  the  unalterable  chris- 
tian duties  of  these  empires  to  each  other ; 
— not  till  man  learn  to  revere  his  brother 
as  man,  whatever  portion  of  the  globe  he 
occupies,  and  all  the  jealousies  and  prefer- 
ences of  a  contracted  patriotism  be  given 
to  the  wind ; — not  till  war  shall  cease  to  be 
prosecuted  as  a  trade,  and  the  charm  of  all 
that  interest  which  is  linked  with  its  con- 
tinuance, shall  cease  to  beguile  men  in  the 
peaceful  walks  of  merchandise,  into  a  bar- 
barous longing  after  war ;  not,  in  one  word, 
till  pride,  and  jealousy,  and  interest,  and 
all  that  is  opposite  to  the  law  of  God  and 
the  charity  of  the  gospel,  shall  be  for  ever 
eradicated  from  the  character  of  those  who 
possess  an  effectual  control  over  the  public 
and  political  movements  of  the  species ; — 
not  till  all  this  be  brought  about,  and  there 
is  not  another  agent  in  the  whole  compass 
of  nature  that  can  bring  it  about  but  the 
gospel  of  Christ,  carried  home  by  the  all- 
subduing  power  of  the  Spirit  to  the  con- 
sciences of  men ; — then,  and  not  till  then, 
my  brethren,  will  peace  come  to  take  up 
its  perennial  abode  with  us,  and  its  bless- 
ed advent  on  earth  be  hailed  by  one  shout 
of  joyful  acclamation  throughout  all  its  fa- 
milies ;  then,  and  not  till  then,  will  the 
sacred  principle  of  good  will  to  men  circu- 
late as  free  as  the  air  of  heaven  among  all 
countries — and  the  sun  looking  out  from 
the  firmament,  will  behold  one  fine  aspect 
of  harmony  throughout  the  wide  extent  of 
a  regenerated  world. 

It  will  only  be  in  the  last  days,  "  when  it 
shall  come  to  pass,  that  the  mountain  of  the 
Lord's  house  shall  be  established  in  the  top 
of  the  mountains,  and  shall  be  exalted  above 
the  hills,  and  all  nations  shall  flow  into  it : 
And  many  people  shall  go,  and  say,  Come 
ye,  and  let  us  go  up  to  the  mountain  of  the 
Lord,  to  the  house  of  the  God  of  Jacob ;  and 
he  will  teach  us  of  his  ways,  and  we  will 
walk  in  his  paths:  for  out  of  Zion  shall  go 
forth  the  law,  and  the  word  of  the  Lord  from 
Jerusalem  ;  and  he  shall  judge  among  the 
nations,  and  shall  rebuke  many  people;" 
then  and  not  till  then,  "  they  shall  beat  their 
swords  into  plough-shares,  and  their  spears 
into  iruning-hooks.  Nation  shall  not  lift  up 
sword  against  nation,  neither  shall  they 
learn  war  any  more." 


The*  above  rapid  sketch  glances  at  the 
chief  obstacles  to  the  extinction  of  war,  and 
in  what  remains  of  this  discourse,  I  shall 
dwell  a  little  more  particularly  on  as  many 
of  them  as  my  time  will  allow  me,  finding 
it  impossible  to  exhaust  so  wide  a  topic, 
within  the  limits  of  the  public  services  of 
one  day. 

The  first  great  obstacle,  then,  to  the  ex- 
tinction of  war,  is  the  way  in  which  the 
heart  of  man  is  carried  off  from  its  barbari- 
ties and  its  horrors,  by  the  splendour  of 
its  deceitful  accompaniments.  There  is  a 
feeling  of  the  sublime  in  contemplating  the 
shock  of  armies,  just  as  there  is  in  contem- 
plating the  devouring  energy  of  a  tempest, 
and  this  so  elevates  and  engrosses  the  whole 
man,  that  his  eye  is  blind  to  the  tears  of 
bereaved  parents,  and  his  ear  is  deaf  to  the 
piteous  moan  of  the  dying,  and  the  shriek 
of  their  desolated  families.  There  is  a  grace- 
fulness in  the  picture  of  a  youthful  warrior 
burning  for  distinction  on  the  field,  and 
lured  by  this  generous  aspiration  to  the 
deepest  of  the  animated  throng,  where,  in 
the  fell  work  of  death,  the  opposing  sons  of 
valour  struggle  for  a  remembrance  and  a 
name ;  and  this  side  of  the  picture  is  so  much 
the  exclusive  object  of  our  regard,  as  to  dis- 
guise from  our  view  the  mangled  carcases 
of  the  fallen,  and  the  writhing  agonies  of  the 
hundreds  and  the  hundreds  more  who  have 
been  laid  on  the  cold  ground,  where  they 
are  left  to  languish  and  to  die.  There  no 
eye  pities  them.  No  sister  is  there  to  weep 
over  them.  There  no  gentle  hand  is  present 
to  ease  the  dying  posture,  or  bind  up  the 
wounds,  which,  in  the  maddening  fury  of 
the  combat,  have  been  given  and  received 
by  the  children  of  one  common  father. 
There  death  spreads  its  pale  ensigns  over 
every  countenance,  and  when  night  comes 
on,  and  darkness  around  them,  how  many 
a  despairing  wretch  must  take  up  with  the 
bloody  field  as  the  untended  bed  of  his  last 
sufferings,  without  one  friend  to  bear  the 
message  of  tenderness  to  his  distant  home, 
without  one  companion  to  close  his  eyes. 

I  avow  it.  On  every  side  of  me  I  see 
causes  at  work  which  go  to  spread  a  most 
delusive  colouring  over  war,  and  to  remove 
its  shocking  barbarities  to  the  back  ground 
of  our  contemplations  altogether.  I  see  it  in 
the  history  which  tells  me  of  the  superb  ap- 
pearance of  the  troops,  and  the  brilliancy 
of  their  successive  charges.  I  see  it  in  the 
poetry  which  lends  the  magic  of  its  numbers 
to  the  narrative  of  blood,  and  transports  its 
many  admirers,  as  by  its  images,  and  its 
figures,  and  its  nodding  plumes  of  chivalry, 
it  throws  its  treacherous  embellishments 
over  a  scene  of  legalized  slaughter.  I  see  it 
in  the  music  which  represents  the  progress 
of  the  battle ;  and  where,  after  being  inspired 
by  the  trumpet-notes  of  preparation,  the 
whole  beauty  and  tenderness  of  a  drawing- 


THOUGHTS  ON  PEACE. 


191 


room  are  seen  to  bend  over  the  sentimental 
entertainment;  nor  do  I  hear  the  utterance 
of  a  single  sigh  to  interrupt  the  death-tones 
of  the  thickening  contest,  and  the  moans  of 
the  wounded  men  as  they  fade  away  upon 
the  ear,  and  sink  into  lifeless  silence.  All, 
all  goes  to  prove  what  strange  and  half- 
sighted  creatures  we  are.  Were  it  not  so, 
war  could  never  have  been  seen  in  any 
other  aspect  than  that  of  unmingled  hate- 
fulness  ;  and  I  can  look  to  nothing  but  to  the 
progress  of  christian  sentiment  upon  earth, 
to  arrest  the  strong  current  of  its  popular 
and  prevailing  partiality  for  war.  Then  only 
will  an  imperious  sense  of  duty  lay  the  check 
of  severe  principle,  on  all  the  subordinate 
tastes  and  faculties  of  our  nature.  Then  will 
glory  be  reduced  to  its  right  estimate,  and 
the  wakeful  benevolence  of  the  gospel  chas- 
ing away  every  spell,  will  be  turned  by  the 
treachery  of  no  delusion  whatever,  from  its 
simple  but  sublime  enterprises  for  the  good 
of  the  species.  Then  the  reign  of  truth  and 
quietness  will  be  ushered  into  the  world,  and 
war,  cruel,  atrocious,  unrelenting  war,  will 
be  stript  of  its  many  and  its  bewildering 
fascinations. 

But  again,  another  obstacle  to  the  extinc- 
tion of  war,  is  a  sentiment  which  seems  to 
be  universally  gone  into,  that  the  rules  and 
promises  of  the  gospel  which  apply  to  a 
single  individual,  do  not  apply  to  a  nation 
of  individuals.  Just  think  of  the  mighty 
effect  it  would  have  on  the  politics  of  the 
world,  were  this  sentiment  to  be  practically 
deposed  from  its  wonted  authority  over  the 
counsels  and  the  doings  of  nations,  in  their 
transactions  with  each  other.  If  forbearance 
be  the  virtue  of  an  individual,  forbearance 
is  also  the  virtue  of  a  nation.  If  it  be  incum- 
bent on  men  in  honour  to  prefer  each  other, 
it  is  incumbent  on  the  very  largest  societies 
of  men,  through  the  constituted  organ  of 
their  government  to  do  the  same.  If  it  be 
the  glory  of  a  man  to  defer  his  anger,  and 
to  pass  over  a  transgression,  that  nation 
mistakes  its  glory  which  is  so  feelingly  alive 
to  the  slightest  insult,  and  musters  up  its 
threats  and  its  armaments  upon  the  faintest 
shadow  of  a  provocation.  If  it  be  the  mag- 
nanimity of  an  injured  man  to  abstain  from 
vengeance,  and  if  by  so  doing,  he  heaps  coals 
of  fire  upon  the  head  of  his  enemy,  then 
that  is  the  magnanimous  nation,  which,  re- 
coiling from  violence  and  from  blood,  will 
do  no  more  than  send  its  christian  embassy, 
and  prefer  its  mild  and  impressive  remon- 
strance; and  that  is  the  disgraced  nation 
which  will  refuse  the  impressiveness  of  the 
moral  appeal  that  has  been  made  to  it. — O! 
my  brethren,  there  must  be  the  breathing 
of  a  different  spirit  to  circulate  round  the 
globe,  ere  its  christianized  nations  resign  the 
jealousies  which  now  front  them  to  each 
other  in  the  scowling  attitude  of  defiance ; 
nd  much  is  to  do  with  the  people  of  every 


land,  ere  the  propnesied  influence  of  the 
gospel  shall  bring  its  virtuous,  and  its  paci- 
fying controul  to  bear  with  effed  on  the 
counsels  and  governments  of  the  world. 

I  find  that  I  must  be  drawing  to  a  close, 
and  that  I  must  forbear  entering  into  several 
topics  on  which  I  meant  ;  t  one  time  to  ex- 
patiate. I  wished,  in  particular,  to  have  laid 
it  fully  before  yon  how  the  extinction  of 
war,  though  it  should  withdraw  one  of  those 
scenes  on  which  man  earns  the  glory  of  in- 
trepidity;  yet  it  would  leave  other,  and  bet- 
ter, and  nobler  scenes,  for  the  display  and 
the  exercise  of  this  respectable  attribute.  I 
wished  also  to  explain  to  you,  that  however 
much  I  admired  the  general  spirit  of  Qua- 
kerism, on  the  subject  of  war;  yet  that  I  was 
not  prepared  to  go  all  the  length  of  its  prin- 
ciples, when  that  war  was  strictly  defensive. 
It  strikes  me,  that  war  is  to  be  abolished  by 
the  abolition  of  its  aggressive  spirit  among 
the  different  nations  of  the  world.  The  text 
seems  to  tell  me  that  this  is  the  order  of 
prophecy  upon  the  subject;  and  that  it  is 
when  nation  shall  cease  to  lift  up  its  sword 
against  nation;  or,  in  other  words,  when  one 
nation  shall  cease  to  move,  for  the  purpose 
of  attacking  another,  that  military  science 
will  be  no  longer  in  demand,  and  that  the 
people  of  the  earth  will  learn  the  art  of  war 
no  more  I  should  also  have  stated,  that  on 
this  ground,  I  refrained  from  pronouncing 
on  the  justice  or  necessity  of  any  one  war 
in  which  this  country  has  ever  been  involved. 
I  have  no  doubt  that  many  of  those  who 
supported  our  former  wars,  looked  on  seve- 
ral of  them  as  Avars  for  existence ;  but  on 
this  matter  I  carefully  abstain  from  the  ut- 
terance of  a  single  sentiment ;  for  in  so  doing, 
I  should  feel  myself  to  be  descending  from 
the  generalities  of  christian  principle,  and 
employing  that  pulpit  as  the  vehicle  of  a 
questionable  policy,  which  ought  never  to 
be  prostituted  either  to  the  unworthy  object 
of  sending  forth  the  incense  of  human  flat- 
tery to  any  one  administration,  or  of  regal- 
ing the  factious,  and  turbulent,  and  disloyal 
passions  of  any  party.  I  should  next,  if  I 
had  time,  offer  such  observations  as  were 
suggested  by  my  own  views  of  political 
science,  on  the  multitude  of  vulnerable 
points  by  which  this  country  is  surrounded, 
in  the  shape  of  numerous  and  distant  de- 
pendencies, and  which,  however  much  they 
may  tend  to  foster  the  warlike  politics  of 
our  government,  are,  in  truth,  so  little  worth 
the  expense  of  a  war,  that  should  all  of  them 
be  wrested  away  from  us,  they  would  leave 
the  people  of  our  empire  as  great,  and  as 
wealthy,  and  as  competent  to  every  purpose 
of  home  security  as  ever.  Lastly,  I  might 
have  whispered  my  inclination,  for  a  little 
more  of  the  Chinese  policy  bein<j  imported 
into  Europe,  not  for  the  purpose  of  restrain- 
ing a  liberal  intercourse  between  its  different 
countries,  but  for  the  purpose  of  quieting  in 


19- 


THOUGHTS  ON  PEACE. 


each  its  restless  spirit  of  alarm,  about  every 
foreign  movement  in  the  politics  and  designs 
of  other  nations;  because,  sure  I  am,  that 
were  each  great  empire  of  the  world  to  lay 
it  down  as  the  maxim  of  its  most  scrupulous 
observance,  not  to  meddle  till  it  was  med- 
dled with,  each  would  feel  in  such  a  maxim 
both  its  safety  and  its  triumph; — for  such 
are  the  mighty  resources  of  defensive  war, 
that  though  the  whole  transportable  force 
of  Europe  were  to  land  upon  our  borders, 
the  result  of  the  experiment  would  be  such, 
that  it  should  never  be  repeated — the  rally- 
ing population  of  Britain  could  sweep  them 
all  from  the  face  of  its  territory,  and  a  whole 
myriad  of  invaders  would  melt  away  under 
the  power  of  such  a  government  as  ours, 
trenched  behind  the  loyalty  of  her  defen- 
ders, and  strong,  as  she  deserves  to  be,  in 
the  love  and  in  the  confidence  of  all  her 
children. 

I  would  not  have  touched  on  any  of  the 
lessons  of  political  economy,  did  they  not 
lead  me,  by  a  single  step,  to  a  christian  les- 
son, which  I  count  it  my  incumbent  duty 
to  press  upon  the  attention  of  you  all.  Any 
sudden  change  in  the  state  of  the  demand, 
must  throw  the  commercial  world  into  a 
temporary  derangement.  And  whether  the 
change  be  from  war  to  peace,  or  from  peace 
to  war,  this  effect  is  sure  to  accompany  it. 
Now  for  upwards  of  twenty  years,  the  direc- 
tion of  our  trade  has  been  accommodated  to 
a  war  system,  and  when  this  system  is  put 
an  end  to,  I  do  not  say  what  amount  of  the 
distress  will  light  upon  this  neighbourhood, 
but  we  may  be  sure  that  all  the  alarm  of 
falling  markets,  and  ruined  speculation,  will 
spread  an  impressive  gloom  over  many  of 
the  manufacturing  districts  of  the  land. 
Now,  let  my  title  to  address  you  on  other 
grounds,  be  as  questionable  as  it  may,  I  feel 
no  hesitation  whatever  in  announcing  it,  as 
your  most  imperative  duty,  that  no  outcry 
of  impatience  or  discontent  from  you,  shall 
embarrass  the  pacific  policy  of  his  majesty's 
government.  They  have  conferred  a  great 
blessing  on  the  country,  in  conferring  on  it 
peace,  and  it  is  your  part  resignedly  to 
weather  the  languid  or  disasterous  months 
which  may  come  along  with  it.  The  interest 
of  trade  is  an  old  argument  that  has  been 
set  up  in  resistance  to  the  dearest  and  most 
substantial  interests  of  humanity. 

When  Paul  wanted  to  bring  Christianity 
into  Ephesus,  he  raised  a  storm  of  opposi- 
tion around  him,  from  a  quarter  which,  I 
dare  say,  he  was  not  counting  on.  There 
happened  to  be  some  shrine  manufactories 
in  that  place,  and  as  the  success  of  the 
Apostle  would  infallibly  have  reduced  the 
demand  for  that  article,  forth  came  the  de- 
cisive argument  of,  Sirs,  by  this  craft  we 
have  our  wealth,  and  should  this  Paul  turn 
away  the  people  from  the  worship  of  gods 
made  with  hands,  thereby  much  damage 


would  accrue  to  our  trade.  Why,  my  bre- 
thren, if  this  argument  is  to  be  admitted, 
there  is  not  one  conceivable  benefit  that  can 
be  offered  for  the  acceptance  of  the  species. 
Would  it  not  be  well  if  all  the  men  of  read- 
ing in  the  country  were  to  be  diverted  from 
the  poison  which  lurks  in  many  a  mischiev- 
ous publication — and  should  this  blessed  re- 
formation be  effected,  are  there  none  to  be 
found  who  would  feel  that  much  damage 
had  accrued  to  their  trade?  Would  it  not 
be  well,  if  those  wretched  sons  of  pleasure, 
before  whom  if  they  repent  not,  there  lieth 
all  the  dreariness  of  an  unprovided  eternity 
— would  it  not  be  well,  that  they  were  re- 
claimed from  the  maddening  intoxication 
which  speeds  them  on  in  the  career  of  dis- 
obedience— and  on  this  event,  too,  would 
there  be  none  to  complain  that  much  damage 
had  accrued  to  their  trade?  Is  it  not  well, 
that  the  infamy  of  the  slave  trade  has  been 
swept  from  the  page  of  British  history?  and 
yet  do  not  many  of  you  remember  how  long 
the  measure  lay  suspended,  and  that  about 
twenty  annual  flotillas,  burdened  with  the 
load  of  human  wretchedness,  were  wafted 
across  the  Atlantic,  while  Parliament  was 
deafened  and  overborne  by  unceasing  clam- 
ours about  the  much  damage  that  would 
accrue  to  the  trade?  And  now,  is  it  not  well 
that  peace  has  once  more  been  given  to  the 
nations?  and  are  you  to  follow  up  this 
goodly  train  of  examples,  by  a  single  whis- 
per of  discontent  about  the  much  damage 
that  will  accrue  to  your  trade?  No,  my  bre- 
thren, I  will  not  let  down  a  single  inch  of 
the  christian  requirement  that  lies  upon  you. 
Should  a  sweeping  tide  of  bankruptcy  set  in 
upon  the  land,  and  reduce  every  individual 
who  now  hears  me,  to  the  very  humblest 
condition  in  society,  God  stands  pledged  to 
give  food  and  raiment  to  all  who  depend 
upon  him ; — and  it  is  not  fair  to  make  others 
bleed,  that  you  may  roll  in  affluence ;— it  is 
not  fair  to  desolate  thousands  of  families, 
that  yours  may  be  upheld  in  luxury  and 
splendour — and  your  best,  and  noblest,  and 
kindest  part  is,  to  throw  yourselves  on  the 
promises  of  God,  and  he  will  hide  you  and 
your  little  ones  in  the  secret  of  his  pavilion 
till  these  calamities  be  overpast. 

III.  I  trust  it  is  evident  from  all  that  has 
been  said,  how  it  is  only  by  the  extension 
of  christian  principle  among  the  people  of 
the  earth,  that  the  atrocities  of  Avar  will  at 
length  be  swept  away  from  it;  and  that 
each  of  us  in  hastening  the  commencement 
of  that  blissful  period, In  his  own  sphere,  is 
doing  all  that  in  him  lies  to  bring  his  own 
heart,  and  the  hearts  of  others,  under  the 
supreme  influence  of  this  principle.  It  is 
public  opinion,  which  in  the  long  run  go- 
verns the  world ;  and  while  I  look  with 
confidence  to  a  gradual  revolution  in  the 
state  of  public  opinion  from  the  omnipo- 
tence of  gospel  truth  working  its  silent,  bu*. 


THOUGHTS  ON  PEACE. 


193 


effectual  way,  through  the  families  of  man- 
kind— yet  I  will  not  deny  that  much  maybe 
done  to  accelerate  the  advent  of  perpetual 
and  universal  peace,  by  a  distinct  body 
of  men  embarking  their  every  talent,  and 
their  every  acquirement  in  the  prosecution 
of  this,  as  a  distinct  object.  This  was  the 
way  in  which,  a  few  years  ago,  the  British 
public  were  gained  over  to  the  cause  of 
Africa.  This  is  the  way  in  which  some  of 
the  other  prophecies  of  the  Bible  are  at  this 
moment  hastening  to  their  accomplish- 
ment ;  and  it  is  this  way,  I  apprehend,  that 
the  prophecy  of  my  text  may  be  indebted 
for  its  speedier  fulfilment  to  the  agency  of 
men  selecting  this  as  the  assigned  field  on 
which  their  philanthropy  shall  expatiate. 
Were  each  individual  member  of  such  a 
scheme  to  prosecute  his  own  walk,  and 
come  forward  with  his  own  peculiar  con- 
tribution, the  fruit  of  the  united  labours  of 
all  would  be  one  of  the  finest  collections  of 
christian  eloquence,  and  of  enlightened  mo- 
rals, and  of  sound  political  philosophy,  that 
over  was  presented  to  the  world.  I  could 
not  fasten  on  another  cause  more  fitted  to 
call  forth  such  a  variety  of  talent,  and  to 
rally  around  it  so  many  of  the  generous 
and  accomplished  sons  of  humanity,  and  to 
give  each  of  them  a  devotedness,  and  a 
power  far  beyond  whatever  could  be  sent 
into  the  hearts  of  enthusiasts,  by  the  mere 
impulse  of  literary  ambition. 

Let  one  take  up  the  question  of  war  in  its 
principle,  and  make  the  full  weight  of  his 
moral  severity  rest  upon  it,  and  upon  all 
its  abominations.  Let  another  take  up  the 
question  of  war  in  its  consequences,  and 
bring  his  every  power  of  graphical  descrip- 
tion to  the  task  of  presenting  an  awakened 
public  with  an  impressive  detail  of  its  cruel- 

25 


ties  and  its  horrors.  Let  another  neutralize 
the  poetry  of  war,  and  dismantle  it  of  all 
those  bewitching  splendours,  which  the  hand 
of  misguided  genius  has  thrown  over  it. 
Let  another  teach  the  world  a  truer,  and 
more  magnanimous  path  to  national  glory, 
than  any  country  of  the  world  has  yet 
walked  in.  Let  another  tell  with  irresisti- 
ble argument,  how  the  christian  ethics  of  a 
nation  is  at  one  with  the  christian  ethics  of 
its  humblest  individual.  Let  another  bring 
all  the  resources  of  his  political  science  to 
unfold  the  vast  energies  of  defensive  war, 
and  show,  that  instead  of  that  ceaseless 
jealousy  and  disquietude,  which  are  ever 
keeping  alive  the  flame  of  hostility  among 
the  nations,  each  may  wait  in  prepared  se- 
curity, till  the  first  footstep  of  an  invader 
shall  be  the  signal  for  mustering  around 
the  standard  of  its  outraged  rights,  all  the 
steel,  and  spirit,  and  patriotism  of  the 
country.  Let  another  pour  the  light  of  mo- 
dern speculation  into  the  mysteries  of  trade 
and  prove  that  not  a  single  war  has  been 
undertaken  for  any  of  its  objects,  where  the 
millions  and  the  millions  more  which  were 
lavished  on  the  cause,  have  not  all  been 
cheated  away  from  us  by  the  phantom  of 
an  imaginary  interest.  This  may  look  to 
many  like  the  Utopianism  of  a  romantic 
anticipation — but  I  shall  never  despair  of 
the  cause  of  truth  addressed  to  a  christian 
public,  when  the  clear  light  of  principle 
can  be  brought  to  every  one  of  its  positions, 
and  when  its  practical  and  conclusive  es- 
tablishment forms  one  of  the  most  distinct  of 
Heaven's  prophecies — "  that  men  shall  beat 
their  swords  into  plough-shares,  and  their 
spears  into  pruning-hooks — and  that  nation 
shall  not  lift  up  sword  against  nation,  neither 
shall  they  learn  the  art  of  war  any  more." 


THE  DUTY 

OF 


^G/V^NG  AN  IMMEDIATE  DILIGENCE  TO  THE  BUSINESS  OF 
'  ■>  %    THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE\ 


BEING  AN 


ADDRIT^J       - 


•v-^*. 


TO  THE  INHABITANTS  OF  THE  PARISH  OF  KILMANY. 


When  one  writes  a  letter  to  an  intimate, 
and  a  much  loved  friend,  he  never  thinks  of 
the  graces  of  the  composition.  He  unbosoms 
himself  in  a  style  of  perfect  freeness  and  sim- 
plicity. He  gives  way  to  the  kindly  affec- 
tions of  his  heart,  and  though  there  may  be 
many  touches  of  tenderness  in  his  perform- 
ance, it  is  not  because  he  aims  at  touches  of 
any  kind,  but  because  all  the  tenderness  that 
is  written,  is  the  genuine  and  the  artless 
transcript  of  all  the  tenderness  that  is  felt. 
Now  conceive  for  a  moment,  that  he  wrote 
his  letter  under  the  consciousness  that  it 
was  to  be  broadly  exhibited  before  the  eye 
of  the  public,  this  would  immediately  ope- 
rate as  a  heavy  restraint  upon  him.  A  man 
would  much  rather  pour  the  expression  of 
his  friendship  into  the  private  ear  of  him 
who  was  the  object  of  it,  than  he  would  do 
it  under  the  full  stare  of  a  numerous  com- 
pany. And  I,  my  brethren,  could  my  time 
have  allowed  it,  would  much  rather  have 
written  my  earnest  and  longing  aspiration 
for  the  welfare  of  you  all  by  a  private  letter 
to  each  individual,  than  by  this  general 
Address,  which  necessarily  exposes  .to  the 
wide  theatre  of  the  public  all  that  I  feel,  and 
all  that  I  utter  on  the  subject  of  my  affec- 
tionate regard  for  you. 

It  were  better,  then,  for  the  exercise  to 
which  I  have  now  set  myself,  that  I  shut 
out  all  idea  of  the  public ;  and  never,  with- 
in the  whole  recollection  of  my  life,  was  I 
less  disposed  to  foster  that  idea.  It  may 
be  observed,  that  the  blow  of  some  great 
and  calamitous  visitation  brings  a  kind  of 
insensibility  along  with  it.  I  ought  not  to 
lament  my  withdrawment  from  you  as  a 
calamity,  but  it  has  had  all  the  effect  of  a 
calamity  upon  me.  I  am  removed  from 
those  objects  which  habitually  interested 
my  heart,  and,  for  a  time,  it  refuses  to  be 
interested  in  other  objects.     I  am  placed  at 


a  distance  from  that  scene  to  which  I  was 
most  alive,  and  I  feel  a  deadness  to  every 
other  scene.  The  people  who  are  now 
around  me,  carry  an  unquestionable  kind- 
ness in  their  bosoms,  and  vie  with  one  an- 
other in  the  expression  of  it.  I  can  easily 
perceive  that  there  exists  abundantly  among 
them  all  the  constituents  of  a  highly  inter- 
esting neighbourhood,  and  it  may  look  cold 
and  ungrateful  in  me  that  I  am  not  interest- 
ed. But  it  takes  a  time  before  the  heart  can 
attune  itself  to  the  varieties  of  a  new  situa- 
tion. It  is  ever  recurring  to  the  more  fa- 
miliar scenes  of  other  days.  The  present 
ministers  no  enjoyment,  and  in  looking  to 
the  past  the  painful  circumstance  is,  that 
while  the  fancy  will  not  be  kept  from  stray- 
ing to  that  neighbourhood  which  exercises 
over  it  all  the  power  of  a  much-loved  home, 
the  idea  that  it  is  home  no  longer  comes 
with  dread  reality  upon  the  mind,  and  turns 
the  whole  to  bitterness. 

With  a  heart  thus  occupied,  I  do  not  feel 
that  the  admission  of  the  public  into  our 
conference  will  be  any  great  restraint  upon 
me.  I  shall  speak  to  you  as  if  they  were 
not  present,  and  I  do  not  conceive  that  they 
can  take  a  great  interest  in  what  I  say,  be- 
cause I  have  no  time  for. the  full  and  ex- 
plicit statement  of  principles.  I  have  this 
advantage  with  you  that  I  do  not  have  with 
others,  that  with  you  I  can  afford  to  be  less 
explicit.  I  presume  upon  your  recollec- 
tions of  what  I  have,  for  some  time,  been 
in  the  habit  of  addressing  to  you,  and  flat- 
ter myself  that  you  may  enter  into  a  train 
of  observation  which  to  others  may  appear 
dark,  and  abrupt,  and  unconnected.  In 
penning  this  short  Address,  I  follow  the  im- 
pulse of  my  regard  for  you.  You  will  re- 
ceive it  with  indulgence,  as  a  memorial 
from  one  who  loves  you,  who  is  ever  with 
you  in  heart,  though  not  in  person ;  who 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


195 


ea  among  the  dearest  of  his  recollec- 
tions, the  tranquil  enjoyments  he  has  had 
in  your  neighbourhood ;  who  carries  upon 
his" memory  the  faithful  image  of  its  fields 
and  of  its  families ;  and  whose  prayers  for 
you  all  is,  that  you  may  so  grow  in  the 
fruits  of  our  common  faith,  as  to  be  made 
meet  for  that  unfading  inheritance  where 
sorrow  and  separation  are  alike  unknown. 

Were  I  to  sit  down  for  the  purpose  of 
drawing  out  a  list  of  all  the  actions  which 
may  be  called  sinful,  it  would  be  long  be- 
fore I  could  complete  the  enumeration. 
Nay,  I  can  conceive,  that  by  adding  one 
peculiarity  after  another,  the  variety  may 
be  so  lengthened  out  as  to  make  the  attempt 
impossible.  Lying,  and  stealing,  and  break- 
ing the  Sabbath,  and  speaking  evil  one  of  an- 
other, these  are  all  so  many  sinful  actions  ; 
but  circumstances  may  be  conceived  which 
make  one  kind  of  lying  different  fom  an- 
other, and  one  kind  of  theft  different  from 
another,  and  one  kind  of  evil  speaking 
different  from  another,  and  in  this  way  the 
number  of  sinful  actions  may  be  greatly 
swelled  out ;  and  should  we  attempt  to  take 
the  amount,  they  may  be  like  the  host 
which  no  man  could  number,  and  every 
sinner,  realizing  one  of  these  varieties,  may 
wear  his  own  peculiar  complexion,  and 
have  a  something  about  him,  which  marks 
him  out,  and  signalizes  him  from  all  the 
other  sinners  by  whom  he  is  surrounded. 

Yet,  amid  all  this  variety  of  visible  as- 
pect, there  is  one  summary  expression  to 
which  all  sin  may  be  reduced.  There  is 
one  principle  which,  if  it  always  existed  in 
the  heart,  and  were  always  acted  upon  in 
the  life,  would  entirely  destroy  the  exis- 
tence of  sin,  and  the  very  essence  of  sin 
lies  in  the  want  of  this  one  principle.  Sin 
js  a  want  of  conformity  to  the  will  of  God  ; 
and  were  a  desire  to  do  the  will  of  God  at 
all  times  the  overruling  principle  of  the 
heart  and  conduct,  there  would  be  no  sin. 
It  is  this  want- of  homage  to  him  and  to  his 
authority,  which  gives  to  sin  its  essential 
character.  The  evil  things  coming  out  nf 
ihe  heart,  which  is  the  residence  of  this  evil 
principle,  may  be  exceedingly  various,  and 
may  impart  a  very  different  complexion  to 
different  individuals.  This  complexion  may 
be  more  or  less  displeasing  to  the  outward 
eye.  The  evil  speaker  may  look  to  us  more 
hateful  than  the  voluptuary,  the  man  of 
cruelty  than  the  man  of  profaneness,  the 
breaker  of  his  word  than  the  breaker  of  the 
Sabbath.  I  believe  it  will  generally  be  found, 
that  the  sin  which  inflicts  the  more  visible 
and  immediate  harm  upon  men,  is,  in  the 
eye  of  men,  the  more  hateful  sin.  There 
is  a  readiness  to  execrate  falsehood,  and 
calumny,  and  oppression;  and  along  with 
this  readiness  there  is  an  indulgence  for 
the  good-humoured  failings  of  him  who  is 
the  slave  of  luxury,  and  makes  a  god  of  his 


pleasure,  and  spends  his  days  in  all  the 
thoughtlessness  of  one  who  walks  in  the 
counsel  of  his  own  heart,  and  in  the  sight 
of  his  own  eyes,  provided  that  his  love  of 
society  leads  him  to  share  with  others  the 
enjoyment  of  all  these  gratifications,  and 
his  wealth  enables  him,  and  his  moral 
honesty  inclines  him,  to  defray  the  expense 
of  them. 

Behold,  then,  one  frequent  source  of  de- 
lusion. He  whose  sins  are  less  hateful  to 
the  world  than  those  of  others,  wraps  up 
himself  in  a  kind  of  security.  I  wrong  no 
man.  I  have  a  heart  that  can  be  moved  by 
the  impulses  of  compassion.  I  carry  in  my 
bosom  a  lively  sentiment  of  indignation  at 
the  tale  of  perfidy  or  violence  ;  and  surely 
I  may  feel  a  satisfaction  which  others  have 
no  title  to  feel,  who  are  guilty  of  that  from 
which  my  nature  recoils  with  a  generous 
abhorrence.  He  forgets  all  the  while,  that 
sin,  in  its  essential  character,  may  have  as 
full  and  firm  a  possession  of  his  heart,  as 
of  the  man's  with  whom  he  is  comparing 
himself:  that  there  may  be  an  entire  dis- 
ownal  and  forgetfulness  of  God ;  that  not 
one  particle  of  reverence,  or  of  acknowledg- 
ment, may  be  given  to  the  Being  with 
whom  he  has  to  do ;  that  whatever  he  may 
be  in  the  eye  of  his  neighbour,  in  the  eye 
of  him  who  seeth  not  as  man  seeth,  he  is 
guilty;  that,  walking  just  as  he  would  have 
done  though  there  had  been  no  divine 
government  whatever,  he  is  a  rebel  to  that 
government ;  and  that  amid  all  the  com- 
placency of  his  own  feelings,  and  all  the 
applause  and  good  liking  of  his  acquaint- 
ances, he  wears  all  the  deformity  of  rebel- 
liousness in  the  eye  of  every  spiritual 
being,  who  looks  at  the  state  of  his  heart, 
and  passes  judgment  upon  him  by  those 
very  principles  which  are  to  try  him  at  the 
greal  day  when  the  secrets  of  all  hearts 
shall  be  laid  open. 

If  this  were  kept  in  view,  it  would  lead 
to  a  more  enlightened  estimate  of  the  cha- 
racter of  man,  than  man  in  the  thought- 
lessness and  unconcern  of  his  natural  state 
ever  forms.  It  would  lead  us  to  see,  that 
under  all  the  hues  and  varieties  of  charac- 
ter, diversified  as  they  are  by  constitutional 
taste,  and  the  power  of  circumstances,  there 
lurks  one  deep  and  universal  disease,  and 
that  is  the  disease  of  a  mind  labouring  un- 
der alienation  from  God,  and  without  any 
practical  sense  nf  what  is  dire  to  him.  You 
will  all  admit  it  to  he  true,  that  the  heart  of 
a  man  may  be  under  the  full  operation  of 
this  deadly  poison,  while  the  man  himself 
has  a  constitutional  taste  for  the  pleasures 
of  social  intercourse.  You  see  nothing  un- 
likely or  impossible  in  this  combination. 
Now  I  want  you  to  go  along  with  me,  when 
I  carry  my  assertion  still  further;  and  sure 
I  am  that  experience  bears  me  out  when  I 
say,  that  the  heart  of  a  man  may  be  under 


196 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


the  full  operation  of  a  dislike  or  indiffer- 
ence to  God,  while  the  man  himself  has 
a  constitutional  abhorrence  at  cruelty,  a 
constitutional  repugnance  to  fraud,  a  con- 
stitutional antipathy  to  what  is  uncour- 
teous  in  manners,  or  harsh  and  unfeeling 
in  conversation,  a  constitutional  gentleness 
of  character;  or,  to  sum  up  the  whole  in 
one  clause,  a  man  may  be  free  from  many 
things  which  give  him  a  moral  hatefulness 
in  the  eye  of  others,  and  he  may  have 
many  things  which  throw  a  moral  loveli- 
ness around  him,  and  the  soul  be  under  the 
entire  dominion  of  that  carelessness  about 
God,  which  gives  to  sin  its  essential  cha- 
racter. And  upon  him,  even  upon  him, 
graceful  and  engaging  as  he  may  be  by  the 
lustre  of  his  many  accomplishments,  the 
saying  of  the  Bible  does  not  fail  of  being 
realised,  that  "  the  heart  of  man  is  deceitful 
above  all  things,  and  desperately  wicked; 
who  can  know  it?" 

And  thus  it  is,  that  our  great  and  ulti- 
mate aim  in  the  reformation  of  a  sinner,  is 
the  reformation  of  his  heart.  There  may 
be  many  reformations  short  of  this,  and  in 
which  many  are  disposed  to  rest  with  de- 
ceitful complacency.  I  can  conceive,  that 
the  man  who  formerly  stole  may  steal  no 
more,  not  because  he  is  now  sanctified, 
and  feels  the  obligation  of  religious  princi- 
ple, but  because  he  is  now  translated  into 
better  circumstances,  and  by  the  power  of 
example,  has  contracted  that  tone  of  ho- 
nourable feeling  which  exists  among  the 
upper  classes  of  society.  Here,  then,  is  a 
reformation  of  the  conduct,  while  the  heart, 
in  respect  of  that  which  constitutes  its  ex- 
ceeding sinfulness,  is  no  better  than  before. 
The  old  leaven  of  ungodliness  may  over- 
spread its  every  desire,  and  its  every  affec- 
tion; and  while  the  outer  man  has  been 
washed  of  one  of  its  visible  deformities,  the 
inner  man  may  still  persist  in  Its  un mind- 
fulness of  God ;  and  the  pollution  of  this 
greatest  and  vilest  of  all  moral  turpitude, 
may  adhere  to  it  as  obstinately  as  ever. 

Now,  it  appears  to  me,  that  these  views, 
true  in  themselves,  and  deserving  to  be 
carried  along  with  us  through  every  inch 
of  our  religious  progress,  have  often  been 
practically  misapplied.  I  can  conceive  an 
inquirer  under  the  influence  of  these  views, 
to  fall  into  such  a  process  of  reflection  as 
the  following  :  '  If  the  outer  conduct  be  of 
no  estimation  in  the  sight  of  God,  unless  it 
stand  connected  with  the  actings  of  a  holy 
principle  in  the  heart,  let  us  begin  with  the 
heart,  and  from  the  establishment  of  a  holy 
principle  there,  purity  of  conduct  will  fol- 
low as  an  effect  of  course.  Let  us  beware 
of  laying  an  early  stress  upon  the  doings  of 
the  outer  man,  lest  we  and  others  should 
have  our  eye  turned  from  the  reformation 
of  the  inner  man,  as  the  main  and  almost 
the  exclusive  object  of  a  Christian's  ambi- 


tion. Let  us  be  fearful  how  we  urge  such 
and  such  visible  reformations,  either  upon 
ourselves  or  those  around  us,  lest  they  be 
made  to  stand  in  the  place  of  that  grand 
renewing  process,  by  which  the  soul,  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins,  is  made  alive  unto 
God.  Let  us  labour  to  impress  the  neces- 
sity of  this  process,  and  seeing  the  utter 
inability  of  man  to  change  his  own  heart, 
let  us  turn  his  eye  from  any  exertions  of 
his  own,  to  that  fulness  which  is  in  Christ 
Jesus,  through  whom  alone  he  can  obtain 
the  forgiveness  of  all  his  sins,  and  such  a 
measure  of  power  resting  upon  him,  as 
carries  along  with  it  all  the  purifying  in- 
fluences of  a  spiritual  reformation.  In  the 
mean  time,  let-  us  take  care  how  we  speak 
about  good  works.  Let  the  very  mention 
of  them  put  us  into  the  defensive  attitude 
of  coldness  and  suspicion ;  and  instead  of 
giving  our  earnestness  or  our  energy  to 
them,  let  us.  press  upon  ourselves  and 
others  the  exercises  of  that  faith,  by  which 
alone  we  are  made  the  workmanship  of  God, 
and  created  unto  such  good  works  as  he 
hath  ordained  that  we  should  walk  in  them.' 
Now,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  through- 
out the  whole  of  this  train  of  sentiment ; 
but  truth  contemplated  under  such  an  as- 
pect, and  turned  to  such  a  purpose,  as  has 
the  effect  of  putting  an  inquirer  into  a  prac- 
tical attitude,  which  appears  to  me  to  be 
unscriptural  and  wrong.  I  would  not  have 
him  keep  his  hand  for  a  single  moment 
from  the  doing  of  that  which  is  obviously 
right.  I  would  not  have  him  to  refrain 
from  grappling  immediately  with  every 
one  sin  which  is  within  the  reach  of  his 
exertions.  I  would  not  have  him  to  incur 
the  delay  of  one  instant  in  ceasing  to  do 
that  which  is  evil ;  and  I  conceive  that  it  is 
not  till  this  is  begun  that  he  will  learn  to 
do  that  which  is  well.  It  ought  not  to  re- 
strain the  energy  of  his  immediate  doing, 
that  he  is  told  how  doings  are  of  no  ac- 
count, unless  they  are  the  doings  of  one 
who  has  gone  through  a  previous  regenera- 
tion. This  ought  not  to  keep  him  from 
doing.  It  should  only  lead  him  to  com- 
bine with  the  prescribed  doing,  an  earnest 
aspiring  after  a  cleaner  heart,  and  a  better 
spirit  than  he  yet  finds  himself  to  have.  It 
is  very  true,  that  a  man  may  do  an  out- 
wardly good  thing,  and  rest  in  what  he  has 
done.  But  it  is  as  true,  that  a  man  may  do 
the  outwardly  good  thing  he  is  bidden  do, 
and,  instead  of  resting,  may  look  forward 
with  diligent  striving,  and  earnest,  humble 
prayer,  to  some  greater  things  than  this. 
Now,  this  last  my  brethren,  is  the  attitude 
I  want  to  put  you  into.  Let  the  thief  give 
up  his  stealing  at  this  moment.  Let  the 
drunkard  give  up  his  intemperance.  Let 
the  evil  speaker  give  up  his  calumnies.  Let 
the  doer  of  all  that  is  obviously  wrong 
break   off  his  sins,  and  turn  him  to  the 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN   LIFE. 


197 


doing  of  all  that  is  obviously  right.  Let 
no  one  thing,  not  even  the  speculations  of 
orthodoxy,*  be  suffered  to  stand  a  barrier 
against  your  entrance  into  the  field  of  im- 
mediate exertion.  I  raise  the  very  first 
blow  of  my  trumpet  against  the  visible  ini- 
quities which  I  sec  to  be  in  you,  and  if 
there  be  any  one  obviously  right  thing  you 
have  hitherto  neglected,  I  will  not  consume 
one  particle  of  time  before  I  call  upon  you 
to  do  it. 

It  is  quite  in  vain  to  say  that  all  this  is 
not  called  for,  or  that  I  am  now  spending 
my  strength  and  your  time  in  combating 
an  error  which  has  no  practical  existence. 
You  must  be  quite  familiarised  with  the 
melancholy  spectacle  of  a  zealous  professor 
mourning  over  the  sinfulness  of  his  heart, 
and,  at  the  same  time  putting  forth  his 
hand,  without  one  sigh  of  remorse,  to  what 
is  sinful  in  ordinary  conduct.  Have  you 
never  witnessed  one,  who  could  speak  evil 
of  his  neighbour,  and  was  at  the  same  time 
trenching  among  what  he  thought  the  spe- 
culations of  orthodoxy,  and  made  the  utter 
corruption  of  the  soul  of  man  one  of  these 
speculations  1  Is  it  not  enough  to  say  that 
he  is  a  mere  speculative  Christian  ?  for  the 
very  same  thing  may  be  detected  in  the 
practice  of  one  who  fuels  a  real  longing  to 
be  delivered  from  the  power  of  that  sin, 
which  he  grieves  has  such  an  entire  do- 
minion over  him.  And  yet,  strange  to  tell, 
there  is  many  an  obvious  and  every-day  sin, 
which  is  not  watched  against,  which  is  not 
struggled  against,  and  the  commission  of 
which  gives  no  uneasiness  whatever.  The 
man  is,  as  it  were,  so  much  occupied  with 
the  sinfulness  of  his  heart,  that  he  neither 
feels  nor  attends  to  the  sinfulness  of  his  con- 
duct, lie  wants  to  go  methodically  to  work. 
He  wants  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  he 
forms  his  estimate  of  what  the  beginning  is 
upon  the  arrangements  of  human  specula- 
tions. 

It  sounds  very  plausibly,  that  as  out  of 
the  heart  are  the  issues  of  life,  the  work  of 
an  inquiring  Christian  must  begin  there; 
but  the  mischief  I  complain  of  is,  that  in 
the  first  prosecution  of  this  work,  months 
or  years  may  be  consumed  ere  the  purified 
fountain  send  forth  its  streams,  or  the  re- 
pentance he  is  aspiring  after  tell  on  the 
plain  and  palpable  doings  of  his  ordinary 
conduct.  Hence,  my  brethren,  the  morti- 
fying exhibition  of  great  zeal,  and  much 
talk,  and  diligent  canvassing  and  conversing 
about  the  abstract  principles  of  the  chris- 


*  Sorry  should  I  be,  if  a  term  expressive  of  right 
notions  on  the  most  interesting  of  all  subjects, 
were  used  by  me  with  a  levity  at  all  calculated  to 
an  indifference  to  the  soundness  of  your  re- 
igious  opinion,  or  to  divert  your  most  earnest  at- 
sntion  from  those  inquiries,  which  have  for  their 
object  the  true  will,  and  the  true  way  of  God  for 
the  salvation  of  men. 


tian  faith,  combined  with  what  is  visible  in 
the  christian  practice,  being  at  a  dead  stand, 
and  not  one  inch  of  sensible  progress  being 
made  in  any  one  thing  which  the  eye  can 
witness,  or  the  hand  can  lay  a  tangible 
hold  upon.  The  man  is  otherwise  employed. 
He  is  busy  with  the  first  principles  of  the 
subject.  He  still  goes  on  with  his  wonted 
peevishness  within  doors,  and  his  wonted 
dishonesties  without  doors.  He  has  not  yet 
come  to  these  matters.  He  is  taken  up  with 
laying  and  labouring  at  the  foundation.  The 
heart  is  the  great  subject  of  his  anxiety; 
and  in  the  busy  exercise  of  mourning,  and 
confessing,  and  praying,  and  studying  the 
right  management  of  his  heart,  he  may  take 
up  months  or  years  before  he  come  to  the 
deformities  of  his  outward  and  ordinary 
conduct.  I  will  venture  to  go  farther,  my 
brethren,  and  assert,  that  if  this  be  the  track 
he  is  on,  it  will  be  a  great,  chance  if  he  ever 
come  to  them  at  all.  To  the  end  of  his  days 
he  may  be  a  talking,  and  -inquiring,  and 
speculating,  and  I  doubt  not,  along  with  all 
this,  a  church-going  and  ordinance-loving 
Christian.  But  I  am  much  afraid  that  he  is, 
practically  speaking,  not  in  the  way  to  the 
solid  attainments  of  a  Christian,  whose  light 
shines  before  men.  All  that  meets  the  eye 
of  daily  observers,  may  have  undergone  no 
change  whatever,  and  the  life  of  the  poor 
man  may  be  nothing  better  than  the  dream 
of  a  delusive  and  bewildering  speculation. 

Now,  it  is  very  true  that,  agreeably  to  the 
remarks  with  which  I  prefaced  this  argu- 
ment, the  great  and  ultimate  aim  of  all  re- 
formation is  to  reform  the  heart,  and  to 
bring  it  into  such  a  state  of  principle  and 
desire,  that  God  may  be  glorified  in  soul 
and  in  spirit,  as  well  as  in  body.  This  is 
the  point  that  is  ever  to  be  sought  after,  and 
ever  to  be  pressed  forward  to.  €Tnder  a  sense 
of  his  deficiencies  from  this  point,  a  true 
Christian  will  read  diligently,  that  he  may 
learn  the  gospel  method  of  arriving  at  it. 
He  will  pray  diligently  that  the  clean  heart 
may  be  created,  and  the  right  spirit  may  be 
renewed  within  him.  The  earnestness  of 
his  attention  to  this  matter  will  shut  him  up 
more  and  more  into  the  faith  of  that  perfect 
sacrifice,  which  his  short-comings  from  a 
holy  and  heart-searching  law  will  ever  re- 
mind him  of,  as  the  firm  and  the  only  ground 
of  his  acceptance  with  God.  The  same  ho- 
nest reliance  on  the  divine  testimony,  which 
leads  him  to  close  with  the  doctrine  of  the 
atonement,  and  to  rejoice  in  it.  will  also  lead 
him  to  close  with  the  doctrine  of  sanctifica- 
tion,  and  diligently  to  aspire  after  it.  Now, 
in  the  business  of  so  aspiring  after  this  ob- 
ject, it  is  not  enough  that  he  read  diligently 
in  the  Word ;  it  is  not  enough  that  he  pray 
diligently  for  the  Spirit.  These  are  two  in- 
gredients in  the  business  of  seeking  after 
his  object,  but  they  are  not  the  only  ones; 
and  what  I  lament  is,  that  a  fear  about  the 


198 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


entireness  of  his  orthodoxy  leads  many  a 
zealous  inquirer  to  look  coldly  and  askance 
at  another  ingredient  in  this  business.  He 
should  not  only  read  diligently,  and  pray 
diligently,  but  he  should  do  diligently  every 
one  right  thing  that  is  within  his  reach,  and 
that  he  finds  himself  to  have  strength  for. 

Any  one  author  who  talks  of  the  insig- 
nificance of  doings,  in  such  a  way  as  practi- 
cally to  restrain  an  inquirer  from  vigorously 
and  immediately  entering  upon  the  perform- 
ance of  them,  misleads  that  inquirer  from 
the  scriptural  method,  by  which  we  are  di- 
rected to  a  greater  measure  of  light  and  of 
holiness  than  we  are  yet  in  possession  of. 
He  detaches  one  essential  ingredient  from 
the  business  of  seeking.  He  may  set  the 
spirit  of  his  reader  a  roaming  over  some 
field  of  airy  speculation ;  but  he  works  no 
such  salutary  effect  upon  his  spirit,  as 
evinces  itself  by  any  one  visible  or  substan- 
tial reformation.  I  have  often  and  often 
attempted  to  press  this  lesson  upon  you,  my 
brethren ;  and  I  bear  you  testimony,  that, 
while  a  resistance  to  practical  preaching 
has  been  imputed  to  the  zealous  professors 
of  orthodoxy,  you  listened  with  patience, 
and  I  trust  not  without  fruit,  when  address- 
ing you  as  if  you  had  just  begun  to  stir 
yourselves  in  the  matter  of  your  salvation, 
I  ranked  it  among  my  preliminary  instruc- 
tions, that  you  should  cease  from  the  evil 
of  your  doings;  that  you  should  give  up  all 
that  you  know  to  be  wrong  in  your  ordi- 
nary conduct ;  that  the  thief  should  restrain 
himself  from  stealing,  the  liar  from  false- 
hood, the  evil  speaker  from  backbiting,  the 
slothful  labourer  in  the  field  from  eye-ser- 
vice, the  faithless  housemaid  in  the  family 
from  all  purloining  and  all  idleness. 

The  subterfuges  of  hypocrisy  are  endless; 
and  if  it  can  find  one  in  a  system  of  theo- 
logy, it  will  be  as  glad  of  it  from  that  quar- 
ter us  from  any  other.  Some  there  are  who 
deafen  the  impressions  of  all  these  direct 
and  immediate  admonitions,  by  saying,  that 
before  all  these  doings  are  insisted  on,  we 
must  lay  well  and  labour  well  at  the  foun- 
dation of  faith  in  Christ,  without  whom 
we  can  do  nothing.  The  truth,  that  with- 
out Christ  we  can  do  nothing,  is  unquestion- 
able ;  but  it  would  take  many  a  paragraph 
to  expose  its  want  of  application  to  the  use 
that  is  thus  made  of  it.  But  to  cut  short 
this  plea  of  indolence  for  delaying  the  pain- 
ful work  of  surrendering  all  that  is  vicious 
in  conduct;  let  me  put  it  to  your  common 
sense  whether  a  thief  would  not,  and  could 
not  give  up  stealing  for  a  week,  if  he  had 
the  reward  of  a  fortune  waiting  him  at  the 
end  of  it ;  whether,  upon  the  same  reward, 
an  evil  speaker  could  not,  for  the  same  time, 
impose  a  restraint  upon  his  lips,  and  the 
slothful  servant  become  a  most  pains-taking 
and  diligent  worker,  and  the  liar  maintain 
an  undeviating  truth  throughout  all  his  con- 


versations. Each  of  these  would  find  him 
self  to  have  strength  for  these  things,  were 
the  inducement  of  a  certain  temporal  re- 
ward held  out,  or  the  dread  of  a  certain 
temporal  punishment  were  made  to  hang 
over  him  Now,  for  the  temporal  punish- 
ment, I  substitute  the  call  of,  "  Flee  from 
the  coming  wrath."  Let  this  call  have  the 
effect  it  should  have,  and  the  effect  it  actually 
does  have,  on  many  who  are  not  warped 
by  a  misleading  speculation,  and  it  will 
make  them  stir  up  such  strength  as  they 
possess,  and  give  up,  indeed,  much  of  their 
actual  misconduct.  This  effect  it  had  in  the 
days  of  John  the  Baptist.  People,  on  his 
call,  gave  up  their  violence  and  their  extor- 
tions, and  the  evil  of  many  of  their  doings, 
and  were  thus  put  into  what  God  in  his 
wisdom  counted  a  fit  state  of  preparation 
for  the  Saviour.  If  there  was  any  thing  in 
the  revelation  of  the  Gospel  calculated  to 
supersede  this  call  of.  "Cease  you  from  the 
evil  of  your  doings,"  then  I  could  under- 
stand the  indifference,  or  the  positive  hos- 
tility of  zealous  pretenders  to  the  work  of 
addressing  practical  exhortation  to  inquirers 
at  the  very  outset  of  their  progress.  But  so 
far  from  being  superseded  by  any  thing 
that  the  Gospel  lays  before  us,  the  Author, 
and  the  first  preachers  of  the  Gospel,  just 
took  up  the  lesson  of  John,  and  at  the  very 
commencement  of  their  ministry  did  they 
urge  it  upon  people  to  turn  them  from  the 
evil  of  their  doings.  Repent  and  believe  the 
Gospel,  says  our  Saviour.  Repent  and  turn 
unto  God,  and  do  works  meet  for  repent- 
ance, says  the  apostle  PauL  And  there 
must  be  something  wrong,  my  brethren,  if 
you  resist  me  urging  it  upon  you,  to  give 
up  at  this  moment,  even  though  it  should 
be  the  first  moment  of  your  concern  about 
salvation,  to  give  up  all  that  is  obviously 
wrong ;  to  turn  you  to  all  that  is  obviously 
right;  to  grapple  with  every  sin  you  car; 
lay  your  hand  upon ;  and  if  it  be  true,  in 
point  of  experience  and  common  sense,  that 
many  a  misdeed  may  be  put  away  from 
you  on  the  allurement  of  some  temporal 
reward  ;  then  if  you  have  faith  in  the  reality 
of  eternal  things,  the  hope  of  an  escape  from 
the  coming  wrath  may  and  will  tell  imme- 
diately upon  you,  and  we  shall  see  among 
you  a  stir,  and  a  diligence,  and  a  doing,  and 
a  visible  reformation. 

It  is  a  great  matter  to  chase  away  all  mys- 
ticism from  the  path  by  which  a  sinner  is 
led  unto  God ;  and  it  is  to  be  lamented  that 
many  a  speculation  of  many  a  respected  di- 
vine, has  the  effect  of  throwing  a  darkening 
cloud  of  perplexity  over  the  very  entrance 
of  this  path.  I  tell  you  a  very  plain  thing, 
and,  if  it  be  true,  it  is  surely  of  importance 
that  you  should  know  it,  when  I  tell  you, 
that  if  you  are  a  servant,  and  are  visited 
with  a  desire  after  salvation,  then  a  faithful 
performance  of  your  daily  task  is  a  step 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


199 


without  which  the  object  you  aim  at  is  un- 
attainable.  If  you  are  a  son,  a  more  punc- 
tual fulfilment  of  your  parent's  bidding  is 
another  step.  If  you  are  a  neighbour,  a 
more  civil  and  obliging  deportment  to  those 
around  you  is  another  step.  If  you  are  a 
dealer,  the  adoption  of  a  just  weight  and  a 
just  measure  is  another  step.  There  are 
some  who,  afraid  of  your  attempting  to  get 
acceptance  with  God  by  the  merit  of  your 
own  doings,  would  not  venture  to  urge  all 
this  at  the  outset,  lest  they  should  lead  you 

on  a  delusive  ground  of  confidence. 
They  would  try  to  get  a  perfect  and  a  clear 
understanding  of  the  right  ground  of  ac- 
ceptance established,  previous  to  the  use  of 
any  such  urgency;  and  then,  upon  this 
principle  being  well  laid  within  you,  they 
might  take  the  liberty  of  telling  you  your 
duty.  Their  fearfulness  upon  this  point 
forms  a  very  striking  contrast  to  the  free, 
and  unembarrassed,  and  energetic  manner, 
in  which  the  Bible,  both  of  the  Old  and 
New  Testament,  calls  on  every  man  who 
comes  within  the  reach  of  a  hearing,  to 
cease  from  all  sin,  and  turn  him  to  all 
righteousness.  In  following  its  example, 
let  us  be  fearless  of  all  consequences.  It 
may  not  suit  the  artificial  processes  of  some 
of  our  systems,  nor  fall  in  with  the  order 
of  their  well-weighed  and  carefully  arranged 
articles,  to  tell  at  the  very  outset  of  those 
obvious  reformations  which  I  am  now 
pressing  upon  you.  But  sure  I  am,  that  an 
apostle  would  have  felt  no  difficult)7  on  the 
cl  ;  nor  whatever  the  visible  sin  which 
deformed  you,  or  whatever  the  visible  act 
of  obedience  in  which  you  were  deficient, 
would  he  Siave  been  restrained  from  giving 
;  ergy  to  the  work  of  calling 
on  you  to  abstain  from  the  one  and  to  do 
the  other. 

The  disciples  of  John  could  not  have 
such  a  clear  view  of  the  ground  of  accept- 
ance before  Cod,  as  an  enlightened  disciple 
of  the  apostles.  Yet  the  want  of  this  clear 
view  did  not  prevent  them  from  being  right 
subjects  for  John's  preparatory  instructions. 
And  what  were  these  instructions?  Sol- 
diers were  called  on  to  give  up  their  vio- 

and  publicans  their  exactions,  and 

rich   men    the  confinement   of  their  own 

i  to  their  own  "ratification;  and  will 

any  man  hesitate  for  a  moment  to  decide 

who    turned    away   from 

directions  of  the  forerunner,  or  those 

who  followed  them,  were  in   the  likeliest 

state  for  receiving  light  and  improvement 

from  '  pient  teaching  of  the  Sa- 

'  viour  ? 

Hut,  tiier  is  one  difference  between  them 
and  us.  The  whole  of  Christ's  teaching, 
as  put  down  in  the  word  of  God,  is  already 
before  us.  Now  what  precise  effect  should 
this  have  upon  the  nature  of  an  initiator} 
address  to  sinners?    The  right  answer  to 


this  question  will  confirm,  or  it  will  demo 
lish  the  whole  of  our  preceding  argument. 
The  alone  ground  of  acceptance,  is  the 
righteousness  of  Christ  imputed  to  all  who 
believe.  This  truth  deserves  to  be  taken 
up,  and  urged  immediately  in  the  hearing 
of  all  who  are  within  the  reach  of  the 
preacher's  voice.  Till  this  truth  be  re- 
ceived, there  should  be  no  rest  to  the  sin- 
ner, there  is  no  reconciliation  with  God,  nor 
will  he  attain  that  consummation  of  holi- 
ness, without  which  there  can  be  no  meet- 
ness  for  the  enjoyment  of  heaven.  Bu 
some  are  readier  to  receive  this  truth  than 
others.  The  reforming  publicans  and  har- 
lots of  John  were  in  a  state  of  greater  readi- 
ness to  receive  this  truth,  than  either  the 
Pharisees,  or  those  publicans  and  harlots 
who,  unmindful  of  John,  still  persisted  in 
their  iniquities.  And  who  will  be  in  greater 
readiness  to  receive  this  truth  in  the  present 
day?  Will  it  be  the  obstinate  and  deter- 
minate doers  of  all  that  is  sinful,  and  that 
too  in  the  face  of  a  call,  that  they  should  do 
works  meet  for  repentance?  Or  will  it  be 
those  who,  under  the  influence  of  this  call, 
do  what  the  disciples  of  John  did  before 
them,  turn  them  from  the  evil  of  their  ma- 
nifest iniquities,  and  so  give  proof  of  their 
earnestness  in  the  way  of  salvation  ?  It  is 
true  that,  along  with  such  a  call,  we  might 
now  urge  a  truth  which  even  John  could 
not.  But  are  we  to  suspend  the  call  of 
doing  works  meet  for  repentance,  till  this 
truth  be  urged  and  established  in  the  mind 
of  the  hearer?  Surely,  if  God  thought  it 
wise  to  ply  sinners  with  a  call  to  turn  them 
from  the  evil  of  their  ways,  before  he  fully 
revealed  to  them  the  evangelical  ground  of 
their  acceptance,  we  may  count  it  scriptural 
and  safe  to  ply  them  with  this  call  at  the 
same  time  that  we  state  to  them  the  evan- 
gelical ground  of  their  acceptance. 

It  is  true,  that  the  statement  may  not  be 
comprehended  all  at  once.  It  may  be  years 
before  it  is  listened  to  by  the  careless,  before 
it  is  rested  in  by  the  desponding,  before  the 
comfort  of  it  is  at  all  felt  or  appropriated  by 
the  doubting  and  melancholy  inquirer.  Now 
what  I  contend  for  is,  that  during  this  in- 
terval of  time,  these  people  may  and  ought 
to  be  urged  with  the  call  of  departing  from 
their  iniquities.  This  very  call  was  brought 
to  bear  on  the  disciples  of  John,  before  the 
ground  of  their  acceptance  was  fully  made 
known  to  them  ;  and  it  might  be  brought  to 
bear  on  sinners  now,  even  though  it  should 
be  before  the  ground  of  their  acceptance  be 
fully  understood  by  them.  The  effect  of 
this  preparatory  instruction  in  these  days, 
was  to  fit  John's  disciples  for  the  subse- 
quent revelation  of  Christ  and  his  apostles. 
It  is  true  that  we  are  in  possession  of  that 
doctrine  which  they  only  had  the  prospect 
of.  But  it  accords  with  experience,  that 
this  doctrine  might  be  addressed  without 


200 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


effect  for  years  to  men  inquiring  after  sal- 
vation. The  doctrine  of  justification  by  the 
righteousness  of  Christ,  might  be  announced 
in  all  its  force,  and  in  all  its  simplicity,  to 
men  who  hold  out  against  it;  and  you 
would  surely  say  of  them,  that  the  way  of 
the  Lord  had  not  been  prepared  to  their 
minds,  nor  his  paths  made  straight.  Now 
we  read  of  such  a  preparation  set  agoing 
in  behalf  of  men  to  whom  this  doctrine  had 
not  yet  been  revealed.  Will  this  prepara- 
tion be  altogether  ineffectual  in  behalf  of 
men,  by  whom  this  doctrine  is  not  yet  un- 
derstood 1  Surely  it  is  quite  evident,  that 
in  the  days  of  John,  men  who,  in  obedience 
to  his  call,  were  struggling  with  their  sins, 
were  in  a  likelier  way  for  receiving  those 
larger  measures  of  truth,  which  were  after- 
ward revealed,  than  they  who,  in  the  face 
of  that  Call,  were  obstinately  and  presump- 
tuously retaining  them.  Suffer  us  to  avail 
ourselves  of  the  same  advantage  now.  You, 
my  brethren,  who,  in  obedience  to  the  calls 
that  have  been  sounded  in  your  hearing,  are 
struggling  with  your  sins,  are  in  a  likelier 
way  for  receiving  those  larger  measures  of 
truth  which  are  now  revealed,  than  those 
of  you  who  feel  no  earnestness,  and  are 
making  no  endeavours  upon  the  subject. 
While,  therefore,  I  announce  to  you,  in  the 
most  distinct  terms,  that  you  will  not  be 
saved  unless  you  are  found  in  the  righteous- 
ness of  Christ,  this  will  not  restrain  me  at 
the  very  same  time  from  doing  what  John 
did.  You  know  how  his  disciples  were 
prepared  for  the  baptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
who  guides  unto  all  truth ;  and  while  I  do 
not  think  that  any  one  point  of  time  is  too 
early  for  offering  Christ  to  you,  in  all  the 
benefits  of  his  sacrifice,  in  all  the  imputed 
merits  of  his  perfect  righteousness,  in  all 
the  privileges  which  he  has  proclaimed  and 
purchased  for  believers;  all  I  contend  for 
is,  that  neither  is  there  any  point  of  time  too 
early  for  letting  you  know,  that  all  sin  must 
be  abandoned,  for  calling  on  you  to  enter 
into  the  work  of  struggling  with  all  sin  im- 
mediately, for  warning  you,  that  while  you 
persist  in  those  sinful  actions  which  you 
might  give  up,  and  would  give  up,  were 
a  temporal  inducement  held  out  to  you,  I 
have  no  evidence  of  your  receiving  benefit 
i'rom  the  word  of  salvation  that  I  am  sound- 
ing in  your  ears.  There  is  surely  room  for 
telling  sinners  more  than  one  thing,  in  the 
course  of  the  very  earliest  lesson  that  is  laid 
before  them.  It  is  an  exclusive  deference 
to  the  one  point,  and  the  one  principle,  and 
the  bringing  of  every  thing  else  into  a  forced 
subordination  upon  it,  which  has  enfeebled 
many  an  attempt  to  turn  sinners  to  Christ 
from  their  iniquities.  I  can  surely  tell  a  man, 
that  unless  he  is  walking  in  a  particular  line, 
he  will  not  reach  the  object  he  is  aiming  at; 
and  I  can  tell  him  at  the  same  time,  that 
neither  will  he  reach  it,  unless  he  have  his 


eyes  open,  and  he  look  upon  the  object.  On 
these  two  unquestionable  truths,  I  bid  him 
both  walk  and  look  at  the  same  time,  and 
at  the  same  time  he  can  do  both.  In  the 
same  manner  I  may  tell  a  man,  that  unless 
he  give  up  stealing  .he  shall  not  reach  hea- 
ven ;  and  I  may  also  tell  him,  that  unless 
he  accept,  by  faith,  Christ  as  his  alone  Sa- 
viour, he  shall  not  reach  heaven.  On  these 
two  truths  I  found  two  practical  directions; 
and  I  must  be  convinced,  that  the  doing  of 
the  one  hinders  the  doing  of  the  other,  ere 
I  desist  from  that  which  the  first  teachers 
of  Christianity  did  before  me, — proclaim 
Christ,  and  within  the  compass  of  the  same 
breathing,  call  on  men  to  do  works  meet 
for  repentance. 

In  the  order  of  time,  the  practical  in- 
structions of  John  went  before  the  full  an- 
nouncement of  the  doctrines  of  salvation. 
I  do  not  think,  however,  that  this  order  is 
authoritative  upon  us;  but  fur  less  do  I 
think  that  our  full  possession  of  the  doc- 
trine of  salvation  confers  any  authority 
upon  us  for  reversing  the  historical  process 
of  the  New  Testament.  I  bring  all  the 
truths  which  the  teachers  of  these  days  ad- 
dressed to  the  sinners  among  whom  they 
labour,  to  bear  immediately  upon  you  sin- 
ners now.  And  while  I  call  upon  you  to 
turn  from  the  evil  of  your  ways,  I  also  warn 
you  of  the  danger  of  putting  away  from  you 
the  offered  Saviour,  or  refusing  all  your 
confidence  m  that  name  than  which  there 
is  no  other  given  under  heaven  whereby 
men  can  be  saved. 

If  by  faith  be  meant  the  embracing  of 
one  doctrine,  then  I  can  understand  how 
some  might  be  alarmed  lest  an  outset  so 
practical  should  depose  faith  from  the  pre-  ■ 
cedency  which  belongs  to  it.  But  if  by 
faith  be  meant  a  reliance  upon  the  whole 
testimony  of  Scripture,  then  the  precedency 
of  faith  is  not  at  all  broken  in  upon.  If,  on 
the  call  of  "  Flee  from  the  coming  wrath," 
I  get  you  to  struggle  it  with  your  more  pal- 
pable iniquities,  I  see  in  that  very  struggle 
the  operation  of  a  faith  in  the  divine  testi- 
mony about  the  realities  of  an  invisible 
world,  and  I  have  reason  to  bless  God  that 
he  has  wrought  in  you  what  I  am  sure  no 
argument  and  no  vehemence  of  mine  could, 
without  the  power  of  his  Spirit,  ever  have 
accomplished.  Those  of  you  who  have  thus 
evinced  one  exercise  of  faith,  I  look  upon 
as  more  hopeful  subjects  for  another  exer- 
cise, than  those  of  you  who  remain  trenched 
in  obstinacy  and  unconcern.  And  when  I 
tell  the  former,  that  nothing  will  get  them 
acceptance  with  Cod,  but  the  mediation  of 
Christ  offered  to  all  who  come,  it  will  be  to 
them,  and  not  to  the  latter,  that  I  should 
look  for  an  earnest  desire  after  the  offered 
Saviour.  When  I  tell  them  that  they  affront 
God  by  not  receiving  the  record  which  he 
gives  of  his  Son,  it  will  be  to  them  and 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


201 


not  to  the  others,  that  I  shall  look  for  a 
submissive  and  thankful  acquiescence  in  the 
whole  of  his  salvation ;  and  thus  passing 
with  the  docility  of  little  children  from  one 
lesson  of  the  Bible  to  another;  these  are  the 
people  who,  working  because  God  so  bids 
them,  will  count  that  a  man  is  not  justified 
by  the  works  of  the  law,  because  God  so 
tells  them ;  these  are  the  people  who,  not 
offended  by  what  Christ  told  them  at  the 
outset,  that  he  who  cometh  unto  him  must 
forsake  all,  will  evince  their  willingness  to 
forsake  all,  by  turning  from  their  iniquities, 
and  coining  unto  Christ ;  these  are  the  peo- 
ple who,  while  they  do  what  they  may 
with  their  hands,  will  think  that  while  their 
heart  is  not  directed  to  the  love  of  God,  they 
have  done  nothing ;  and  counting  it  a  faith- 
ful saying,  that  without  Christ  they  can  do 
nothing,  they  will  take  to  him  as  their  sanc- 
lifier  us  well  as  their  Saviour,  and  having 
received  him  as  the  Lord  their  righteous- 
ness, will  ever  repair  to  him  and  keep  by 
him  as  the  Lord  their  strength. 

While  I  urge  upon  you  the  doing  of 
every  obviously  right  thing,  you  will  not 
conceive  of  me  that  I  want  you  to  rest  in 
this  doing.  I  trust  that  my  introductory 
paragraphs  may  convince  you  how  much 
of  this  doing  may  be  gone  through,  and 
yet  the  mighty  object  of  the  obedience  of 
the  willing  heart  might  be  unreached  and 
unaccomplished.  Not  to  urge  the  doing,  lest 
you  should  rest,  would  be  to  deviate  from 
scriptural  example.  And  again,  to  urge  the 
doing,  and  leave  you  to  rest,  would  be  also 
to  deviate  from  scriptural  example.  John 
the  Baptist  urged  the  doing  of  many  things, 
and  his  faithful  disciples  set  themselves  to 
the  performance  of  what  he  bade  them 
do.  They  entered  immediately  on  the  field 
of  active  and  diligent  service.  But  did  they 
stop  short?  No;  out  of  the  very  preach- 
ing of  their  master  did  they  obtain  a  cau- 
tion against  resting  ;  and  the  same  submis- 
sive deference  to  his  authority,  in  virtue  of 
which  they  were  set  a  working,  led  them 
also,  along  with  their  working  at  the  things 
which  he  set  them  to,  to  look  forward  to 
greater  things  than  these.  He  told  them 
expressly,  thai  all  Ins  preaching  was  as  no- 
thing to  the  preaching  of  one  who  was  to 
come  after  him.  They  were  diligent  with 
present  things,  but  be  assured  that  they 
combined  with  this  diligence  the  attitude 
of  looking  forward  to  greater  things.  Is 
this  the  attitude  of  men  who  place  their 
repose  and  their  dependance  upon  the  per- 
formances on  hand  '  Was  it  not  the  atti- 
tude of  men  walking  in  the  way  revealed 
messenger  from  heaven,  to  the  object 
which  this  messenger  pointed  out  to  them? 
I  call  on  you  to  commence  at  this  moment 
an  immediate  struggle  with  all  sin,  and  an 
immediate  striving  after  all  righteousness; 
but  I  would  not  be  completing  even  the 
20 


lesson  of  John,  and  far  less  would  I  be 
bringing  forward  the  counsel  of  God,  as 
made  known  to  us  in  his  subsequent  reve- 
lation, were  I  to  say  any  thing  which  led 
you  to  stop  short  at  those  visible  reforma- 
tions, which  formed  the  great  burden  of 
John's  practical  addresses  to  his  country- 
men ;  and  therefore  along  with  your  do- 
ing, and  most  diligently  doing  all  that  is 
within  your  reach,  I  call  on  you  to  pray, 
and  most  fervently  and  faithfully  to  pray 
for  that  larger  baptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
by  which  your  hearts  may  be  cleansed 
from  all  their  corruptions,  and  you  be  en- 
abled to  render  unto  God  all  the  purity  of  a 
spiritual  obedience. 

I  cannot  expatiate  within  the  limits  of 
this  short  address  on  the  texts  both  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testament,  which  serve  to 
establish,  that  the  right  attitude  of  a  return- 
ing sinner  is  what  I  have  sometimes  called 
in  your  hearing,  the  compound  attitude  of 
service  and  expectation.  But  I  shall  re- 
peat a  few  of  these  texts,  that  they  may 
suggest  what  you  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  hearing  from  me  upon  this  subject. 
"  And  Samuel  spake  to  all  the  house  of  Is- 
rael, saying,  if  ye  do  return  unto  the  Lord 
with  all  your  hearts,  then  put  away  the 
strange  gods  and  Ashtaroth  from  among 
you,  and  prepare  your  hearts  unto  the 
Lord,  and  serve  him  only,  and  he  will  de- 
liver you  out  of  the  hand  of  the  Philistines. 
Then  the  children  of  Israel  did  put  away 
Baalim  and  Ashtaroth,  and  served  the  Lord 
alone."  "  They  will  not  frame  their  doings 
to  turn  unto  the  Lord."  "  Thus  saith  the 
Lord,  keep  ye  judgment  and  do  justice,  for 
my  salvation  is  near  to  come,  and  my  righ- 
teousness to  be  revealed.  Blessed  is  the 
man  that  doeth  this,  and  the  son  of  man 
that  layeth  hold  on  it,  that  keepeth  the 
Sabbath  from  polluting  it,  and  keepeth  his 
hand  from  doing  evil."  "  Deal  thy  bread 
to  the  hungry,  and  bring  the  poor  that  are 
cast  out  into  thy  house.  When  thou  seest 
the  naked,  cover  him,  and  hide  not  thy- 
self from  thine  own  flesh.  Then  shall  thy 
light  break  forth  as  the  morning,  and  thine 
health  shall  spring  forth  speedily,  and  thy 
righteousness  shall  go  before  thee ;  the 
glory  of  the  Lord  shall  be  thy  rereward."' 
"He  that  hath  my  commandments  and 
keepeth  them,  he  it  is  that  loveth  me,  and 
he  that  loveth  me  shall  be  loved  of  my  Fa- 
ther, and  I  will  love  him,  and  will  manifest 
myself  unto  him."  "  For  whosoever  hath, 
to  him  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have 
more  abundance ;  but  whosoever  hath  not, 
from  him  shall  be  taken  away  even  that  he 
hath."  "  Whosoever,  therefore,  shall  break 
one  of  these  least  commandments,  and  shall 
teach  men  so,  he  shall  be  called  the  least  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven;  but  whosoever 
shall  do  and  teach  them,  the  same  shall  be 
called  great  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 


202 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


"And  we  are  witnesses  of  these  things; 
and  so  is  also  the  Holy  Ghost,  whom  God 
hath  given  to  them  that  obey  him."  "Trust 
in  the  Lord  and  do  good." 

But  danger  presses  on  us  in  every  direc- 
tion ;  and  in  the  work  of  dividing  the  word 
of  truth,  many,  and  very  many,  are  the  ob- 
stacles which  lie  in  the  way  of  our  doing 
it  rightly.  When  a  minister  gives  his 
strength  to  one  particular  lesson,  it  often 
carries  in  it  the  appearance  of  his  neglect- 
ing all  the  rest,  and  throwing  into  the 
back  ground  other  lessons  of  equal  im- 
portance. It  might  require  the  ministra- 
tions of  many  years  to  do  away  this  ap- 
pearance. Sure  I  am,  that  I  despair  of 
doing  it  away  within  the  limits  of  this 
short  address  to  any  but  yourselves.  You 
know  all  that  I  have  urged  upon  the  ground 
of  your  acceptance  with  God;  upon  the 
freeness  of  that  offer  which  is  by  Christ 
Jesus;  upon  the  honest  invitations  which 
every  where  abound  in  the  Gospel,  that  all 
who  will,  may  take  hold  of  it ;  upon  the 
necessity  of  being  found  by  God  not  in 
your  own  righteousness,  but  in  the  righ- 
teousness which  is  of  Christ ;  upon  the 
helplessness  of  man,  and  how  all  the  strag- 
glings of  his  own  unaided  strength  can 
never  carry  him  to  the  length  of  a  spiritual 
obedience ;  upon  the  darkness  and  enmity 
of  his  mind  about  the  things  of  God,  and 
how  this  can  never  be  dissolved,  till  he 
who  by  nature  stands  afar  off  is  brought 
near  by  the  blood  of  the  atonement,  and  he 
receives  that  repentance  and  that  remis- 
sion of  sins,  which  Christ  is  exalted  a 
Prince  and  a  Saviour  to  dispense  to  all  who 
believe  in  him.  These  are  offers  and  doc- 
trines which  might  be  addressed,  and  ought 
to  be  addressed  immediately  to  all.  But  the 
call  I  have  been  urging  upon  you  through 
the  whole  of  this  pamphlet,  of  "  Cease  ye 
from  your  manifest  transgressions,"  should 
be  addressed  along  with  them. 

Now,  here  lies  the  difficulty  with  many  a 
sincere  lover  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 
He  feels  a  backwardness  in  urging  this  call, 
lest  it  should  some  how  or  other  impair 
the  freeness  of  the  offer,  or  encroach  upon 
the  singleness  of  that  which  is  stated  to  be 
our  alone  meritorious  ground  of  acceptance 
before  God.  In  reply  to  this,  let  it  be  well 
observed,  that  though  the  offer  be  at  all 
times  free,  it  is  not  at  all  times  listened  to ; 
and  though  the  only  ground  of  acceptance 
be  that  righteousness  of  Christ  which  is 
unto  all  them  and  upon  all  them  that  be- 
lieve, yet  some  are  in  likelier  circumstances 
for  being  brought  to  this  belief  than  others. 
There  is  one  class  of  hearers  who  are  in  a 
greater  state  of  readiness  for  being  impress- 
ed by  the  Gospel  than  another, — and  I  fear 
that  all  the  use  has  not  been  made  of  this 
principle,  which  Scripture  and  experience 
warrant  us  to  do.    Every  attempt  to  work 


man  into  a  readiness  for  receiving  the  offer 
has  been  discouraged,  as  if  it  carried  in  it  a 
reflection  against  the  freeness  of  the  offer 
itself.  The  obedient  disciples  of  John  were 
more  prepared  for  the  doctrines  of  grace, 
than  the  careless  hearers  of  this  prophet ; 
but  their  obedience  did  not  confer  any 
claim  of  merit  upon  them,  it  only  made 
them  more  disposed  to  receive  the  good 
tidings  of  that  salvation  which  was  alto- 
gether of  grace.  A  despiser  of  ordinances 
is  put  into  a  likelier  situation  for  receiving 
the  free  offer  of  the  Gospel,  bj'  being  pre- 
vailed upon  to  attend  a  church  where  this 
offer  is  urged  upon  his  acceptance.  His 
attendance  does  not  impair  the  freeness  of 
the  offer.  Yet  where  is  the  man  so  warp- 
ed by  a  misleading  speculation,  as  to  deny 
that  the  doing  of  this  previous  to  his  union 
with  Christ,  and  preparatory  to  that  union, 
may  be  the  very  mean  of  the  free  offer  be- 
ing received.  Again,  it  is  the  lesson  both  of 
experience  and  of  the  Bible,  that  the  young 
are  likelier  subjects  for  religious  instruc- 
tion than  the  old.  The  free  offer  may  and 
ought  to  be  addressed  to  both  these  classes ; 
but  generally  speaking,  it  is  in  point  of 
fact  more  productive  of  good  when  ad- 
dressed to  the  first  class  than  the  second. 
And  we  do  not  say  that  youih  confers  any 
meritorious  title  to  salvation,  nor  do  we 
make  any  reflection  on  the  freeness  of  the 
offer,  when  we  urge  it  upon  the  young, 
lest  they  should  get  old,  and  it  have  less 
chance  of  being  laid  before  them  with  ac- 
ceptance. We  make  no  reflection  upon  the 
offer  as  to  its  character  of  freent  ss,  but  we 
proceed  upon  the  obvious  fact,  that,  free  as 
it  is,  it  is  not  so  readily  listened  to  or  laid 
hold  of  by  the  second  class  of  hearers  as 
by  the  first.  And,  lastly,  when  addressing 
sinners  now,  all  of  them  might  and  ought 
to  be  plied  with  the  free  offer  of  salvation 
at  the  very  outset.  But  if  it  be  true,  that 
those  of  them  who  wilfully  persist  in  those 
misdoings,  which  they  could  give  up  on 
the  inducement  of  a  temporal  reward,  will 
not,  in  point  of  fact,  be  so  impressed  by  the 
offer,  or  be  so  disposed  to  accept  of  it,  as 
those  who  (on  the  call  of—"  Flee  from  the 
coming  wrath;")  and  on  being  told,  that, 
unless  they  repent  they  shall  perish  ;  and 
on  being  made  to  know,  what  our  Saviour 
made  inquirers  know  at  the  very  starting 
point  of  their  progress  as  his  disciples,  that 
he  who  followeth  after  him  must  forsake 
all,)  have  begun  to  break  off  their  sins,  and 
to  put  the  evil  of  their  doings  away  from 
them:  then  we  are  not  stripping  the  offer 
of  its  attribute  of  perfect  freeness,  but  we 
are  only  doing  what  God  in  his  wisdom 
did  two  thousand  years  ago  ;  we  are,  under 
Him,  preparing  souls  for  the  reception  of 
this  offer,  when  along  with  the  business  of 
proposing  it,  which  we  cannot  do  too  early, 
we  bring  the  urgency  of  an  immediate  call 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


203 


to  bear  on  the  children  of  iniquity,  that 
they  should  cease  to  do  evil,  and  learn  to 
do  well. 

The  publicans  and  harlots  entered  into 
the  kingdom  of  God  before  the  Pharisees, 
and  yet  the  latter  were  free  from  the  out- 
ward transgressions  of  the  former.     Now, 
the  fear  which  restrains  many  from  lifting 
the  immediate  call  of — "  Cease  ye  from  your 
transgressions,"  is,  lest  it  should  put  those 
who  obey  the  call  into  the  state  of  Pharisees ; 
and  there  is  a  secret,  though  not  avowed, 
impression  in  their  minds,  that  it  were  bet- 
ter for  their  hearers  to  remain  in  the  state 
of  publicans  and  harlots,  and  in  this  state  to 
have  the  offer  of  Christ  and  all  his  benefits 
'fore  them.     But   mark  well,  that  it 
was  not  the  publicans  and  harlots  who  per- 
sisted   in   their    iniquities,   but    they    who 
counted  John  to  be  a  prophet,  and  in  obe- 
dience to  his  call,  were  putting  their  iniqui- 
ties away  from  them,  who  had  the  advan- 
tage of  the  Pharisees.     None  will  surely 
say,  that  those  of  them  who  continued  as 
they  were,  were  put  into  a  state  of  prepara- 
tion for  the  Saviour  by  the  preaching  of 
John.     Some  will  be   afraid  to  say,  that 
those  of  them  who  gave  up  their  iniquities 
at  the  bidding  of  John,  were  put  into  a 
state  of  preparation,  lest  it  should  encourage 
a  pharisaical  confidence  in  our  own  doings. 
But  mirk  the  distinction  between  these  and 
the  Pharisees:   The  Pharisees  might  be  as 
as  the  reforming  publicans  and  harlots, 
of  those  visible  transgressions  which  cha- 
racterized them;  but,  on  this  they  rested 
their  confidence,  and  put  the  offered  Sa- 
viour away  from  them.     The  publicans  and 
harlots,  so  far  from  resting  their  confidence 
on  the  degree  of  reformation  which  they 
had   accomplished,  were  prompted  to  this 
reformation  by  the  hope  of  the  coming  Sa- 
viour.    They  connected  with  all   their  do- 
i;ejs    tli-    expectation   of   greater    things. 
They  waited  for  the  kingdom  of  God  that 
was  it   haul;  and  the  preaching  of  John, 
under  the  influence  of  which  they  had  put 
away  from  them  many  of  their  misdeeds, 
could  never  lead  them  to  stop  short  at  this 
degree  of  amendment,  when  the  very  same 
John  told  them  of  one  who  was  to  come  af- 
ter him,  in  comparison  of  whom  he  and  all 
his  sermons  were  as  nothing.   The  Saviour 
did   come,  and  he  said  of  those   publicans 
and  harlots  who  believed  and  repented  at 
tiie  preaching  of  John,  that  they  entered 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  before  the  Phari- 
sees.    They  had  not  earned  that  kingdom 
by  their  doings,  but  they  were  in  a  fitter 
and   readier  state  for  receiving  the  tidings 
of  it.     The  gospel  came  to  them  on  the 
footing  of  a  free  and  unmerited  offer;  and 
on  this  footing;  it.  should  be  proposed  to  all. 
But  it  is  not  on  this  footing  that  it  will  be 
accepted  by  all.      Not  by  men  who,  free 
from  many  glaring  and  visible  iniquities, 


rest  on  the  decency  of  their  own  character ; 
— not  by  men  who,  deformed  by  these  ini- 
quities, still  wilfully  and  obstinat*  ly  persist 
in  them ;  but  by  men  who,  earnest  in  their 
inquiries  after  salvation,  and  who,  made  to 
know,  as  they  ought  to  be  at  the  very  out- 
set of  their  inquiries,  that  it  is  a  salvation 
from  sin  as  well  as  from  punishment,  have 
given  up  the  practice  of  their  outward  ini- 
quities, as  the  first  fruit  and  evidence  of 
their  earnestness. 

Let  me,  therefore,  in  addition  to  the  les- 
son I  have  already  urged  upon  you,  warn 
you  against   a    pharisaical   confidence    in 
your  own  doings.  While,  on  the  one  hand, 
I  tell  you  that  none  are  truly  seeking  who 
have  not  begun  to  do ;  I,  on  the  other  hand, 
tell  you,  that  none  have  truly  found  who 
have  not  taken  up  with  Christ  as  the  end  of 
the  law  for  righteousness.    Let  Jesus  Christ, 
the  same  to-day,  yesterday,  and  for  ever, 
be  the  end  of  your  conversation.     Never 
take  rest  till  you  have  found  it  in  him.  You 
never  will  have  a  well-grounded  comfort  in 
your  intercourse  with  God,  till  you  have 
learned  the  way  of  going  to  the  throne  of  his 
grace  in  fellowship  with  Christ  as  your  ap- 
pointed Mediator; — you  never  will  rejoice 
in  hope  of  the  coming  glory,  till  your  peace 
be  made  with  God  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord  ;  you  never  will  be  sure  of  par- 
don, till  you  rest  in  the  forgiveness  of  your 
sins  as  coming  to  you  through  the  redemp- 
tion which  is  in  his  blood.     And  what  is 
more,  addressing  you  as  a  people  who  have 
received  a  practical   impulse  to    the  obe- 
dience of  the  commandments,  never  forget, 
that,  while  the  reformation  of  your  first  and 
earliest  stages  in  the  christian  life  went  no 
farther  than  to  the  amendment  of  your  more 
obvious  and  visible  deficiencies,  "this  refor- 
mation, to  be  completed,  must  bring  the 
soul  and  spirit,  as  well  as  the  body,  under 
a  subserviency  to  the  glory  of  God  :  and  it 
never  can  be  completed  but  by  the  shed- 
ding abroad  of  that  spirit  which  is  daily 
poured  on  the  daily  prayers  of  believers: 
and  I  call  upon  you  always  to  look  up  to 
God  through  the  channel  of  Christ's  ap- 
pointed mediatorship,  that  you  may  receive 
through  this  same  channel  a  constant  and 
ever  increasing  supply  of  the  washing  of 
regeneration   and   renewing  of  the    Holy 
Ghost. 

I  call  upon  you  to  be  up  and  doing;  but 
I  call  upon  you  with  the  very  same  breath, 
not  to  rest  satisfied  with  any  dark,  or  con- 
fused notions  about  your  way  of  acceptance 
with  God ;  and  let  it  be  your  earnest  and 
never-ceasing  object  to  be  found  in  that 
way.  While  you  have  the  commandments 
and  keep  them,  look  at  the  same  time  for 
the  promised  manifestations.  To  be  indif- 
ferent whether  you  have  a  clear  understand- 
ing of  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  is  the 
same  as  thinking  it  not  worth  your  while 


204 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


to  inquire  into  that  which  God  thought  it 
worth  his  while  to  give  up  his  Son  unto  the 
death  that  he  might  accomplish.  It  is  to 
affront  God,  by  letting  him  speak  while  you 
refuse  to  listen  or  attend  to  him.  Have  a 
care,  lest  it  be  an  insulting  sentiment  on 
your  part,  as  to  the  worth  of  your  polluted 
services,  and  that,  sinful  as  thejr  are,  and 
defective  as  they  are,  they  are  good  enough 
for  God.  Lean  not  on  such  a  bruised  reed  ; 
but  let  Christ,  in  all  the  perfection  of  that 
righteousness,  which  is  unto  all  them  and 
upon  all  them  that  believe,  be  the  alone 
rock  of  your  confidence.  Your  feet  will 
never  get  on  a  sure  place  till  they  be  estab- 
lished on  that  foundation  than  which  there 
is  no  other ;  and  to  delay  a  single  moment 
in  your  attempts  to  reach  it,  and  to  find 
rest  upon  it,  after  it  is  so  broadly  announced 
to  you,  is  to  incur  the  aggravated  guilt  of 
those  who  neglect  the  great  salvation,  and 
who  make  God  a  liar,  by  suspending  their 
belief  of  that  record  which  he  hath  given  of 
his  Son, — "And  this  is  the  record  that  God 
hath  given  us  eternal  life,  and  this  life  is  in 
his  Son." 

Again  I  call  upon  you  to  be  up  and  doing ; 
and  I  call  upon  you  to  accept  of  Christ  as 
your  alone  Saviour :  but  1  call  upon  you, 
at  the  same  time,  to  look  to  the  whole  ex- 
tent of  his  salvation.  "  You  hath  he  quick- 
ened, having  forgiven  you  all  trespasses." 
There  is  the  forgiveness  of  all  that  has  been 
dead,  and  sinful,  and  alienated  within  you : 
but  there  is  also  a  quickening,  and  a  reform- 
ing, and  a  putting  within  you  a  near  and  a 
lively  sense  of  God,  so  as  that  you  may 
henceforth  serve  him  with  newness  of  heart, 
and  walk  before  him  in  all  newness  of  life 
and  of  conversation.  Your  hearts  will  be 
enlarged,  so  as  that  you  may  run  the  way 
of  all  the  commandments.  0,  how  it  puts 
to  flight  all  pharisaical  confidence  in  the 
present  exercises  of  obedience,  when  one 
casts  an  enlightened  eye  over  the  whole 
extent  of  the  Christian  race,  and  thinks  of 
the  mighty  extent  of  those  attainments 
which  were  exemplified  by  the  disciples  of 
the  New  Testament !  The  service  which  I 
now  yield,  and  is  perhaps  offered  up  in  the 
spirit  of  bondage,  must  be  offered  up  in  the 
spirit  of  adoption.  It  must  be  the  obe- 
dience of  a  child,  who  yields  the  willing 
homage  of  his  affections  to  his  reconciled 
father.  It  must  be  the  obedience  of  the 
heart :  and  O  how  far  is  a  slavish  perform- 
ance of  the  bidden  task,  from  the  consent 
of  the  inner  man  to  the  law  of  that  God 
whom  he  delights  to  honour !  This  love  to 
him,  and  delight  in  him,  occupy  the  fore- 
most place  in  the  list  of  the  bidden  require- 
ments. If  I  love  the  creature  more  than 
the  Creator,  I  trample  on  the  authority  of 
the  first  and  greatest  of  the  commandments; 
and  what  an  mposing  exhibition  of  so- 
briety, and  jus.  \ce,  and  almsgiving,  and  reli- 


gious decency,  may  be  presented  in  thf 
character  and  doings  of  him  whose  conver- 
sation is  not  in  heaven,  who  minds  earthlv 
things,  who  loves  his  wealth  more  than 
God,  who  likes  his  ease  and  comfort  on  this 
side  of  time  more  than  all  his  prospects  on 
the  other  side  of  it,  and  who,  therefore, 
though  he  may  never  have  looked  upon 
himself  to  be  any  thing  else  than  a'  fair 
Christian,  is  looked  upon  by  ev«ry  spiritual 
being  as  a  rebel  to  his  God,  with  the  prin- 
ciple of  rebellion  firmly  seated  in  his  most 
vital  part,  even  in  his  heart,  turned  in  cold- 
ness and  alienation  away  from  him. 

But  if  God  be  looked  upon  by  you  as  a 
Father  with  whom  you  are  reconciled 
through  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  it  will  not 
be  so  with  you.  Now,  this  is  what  he  calls 
you  to  do.  He  gives  you  a  warrant  to 
choose  him  as  your  God.  He  offers  him- 
self to  your  acceptance,  and  beseeches  all 
to  whom  the  word  of  salvation  is  sent,  to 
be  reconciled  to  Him.  It  is  indeed  a  won- 
derful change  in  the  state  of  a  heart,  when, 
giving  up  its  coldness  and  indifference  to 
God,  (and  I  call  upon  every  careless  and 
unawakened  man  to  tell  me,  upon  his  ho- 
nesty, whether  this  be  not  the  actual  state 
of  his  heart,)  it  surrenders  itself  to  him  with 
the  warm  and  the  willing  tribute  of  all  its 
affections.  Now,  there  is  not  one  power, 
within  the  compass  of  nature,  that  can 
bring  about  this  change.  It  does  not  lie 
with  man  to  give  up  the  radical  iniquity  of 
an  alienated  heart;  the  Ethiopian  may  as 
soon  change  his  skin,  and  the  leopard  his 
spots.  But  what  cannot  be  done  by  him, 
is  done  to  him,  when  he  accepts  of  the  Gos- 
pel. The  promises  of  Christ  are  abundant- 
ly peformed  upon  all  who  trust  in  him. 
Through  him  is  the  dispensation  of  forgive- 
ness, and  with  him  is  the  dispensation  of 
the  all-powerful  and  all-subduing  Spirit. 
While,  then,  with  the  very  first  mention  of 
his  name,  I  call  on  you  to  cease  your  hand 
from  doing  evil,  surely  there  is  nothing  in 
the  call  that  can  lead  you  to  stop  at  any 
one  point  of  obedience,  when  I,  at  the  same 
time,  tell  you  of  the  mighty  change  that 
must  be  accomplished,  ere  you  are  meet 
for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints.  You  must 
be  made  the  workmanship  of  God ;  you 
must  be  born  again;  you  must  be  made  to 
feel  your  depend ance  on  the  power  of  the 
renewing  Spirit;  and  that  power  must 
come  down  upon  you,  and  keep  by  you, 
and  by  his  ever-needed  suppliesmust  form 
the  habitual  answer  to  your  habitual  and 
believing  prayers. 

I  have  now  got  upon  ground  on  which 
many  will  refuse  to  go  along  with  me.  I 
can  get  their  testimony  to  the  spectacle  of 
a  reforming  people,  putting  the  visible  ini- 
quities of  stealing,  and  lying,  and  evil 
speaking,  and  drunkenness,  away  from 
them ;  but  from  the  moment  we  come  to 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


205 


v.ie  only  principle  which  confers  any  value 
on  these;  visible  expressions,  even  the  wil- 
ling homage  of  the  heart  to  God,  and  to  his 
law  in  all  its  spirituality  and  extent;  and 
from  the  moment  that  we  come  to  the  only 
expedient  by  which  such  a  principle  ca.n 
ever  obtain  an  establishment  within  us, 
(and  we  challenge  them  to  attempt  the 
establishment  of  this  principle  in  any  other 
way,)  even  the  operation  of  that  spirit 
which  is  given  to  those  who  accept  of 
Christ  as  lie  is  laid  before  us  in  the  Gospel ; 
then,  and  at  that  moment,  are  we  looked 
upon  as  having  entered  within  the  borders 
of  fanaticism;  and,  while  they  lavish  their 
superficial  admiration  on  the  flowers  of 
virtue,  do  they  refuse  the  patience  of  their 
attention  to  the  root  from  which  they 
spring,  or  to  the  nourishment  which  main- 
tains them. 

And  here  I  cannot  but  record  the  effect 
of  an  actual  though  undesigned  experiment, 
which  I  prosecuted  for  upwards  of  twelve 
years  among  you.  For  the  greater  part  of 
that  time,  I  could  expatiate  on  the  meanness 
of  dishonesty,  on  the  villainy  of  falsehood, 
on  the  despicable  arts  of  calumny, — in  a 
word,  upon  all  those  deformities  of  charac- 
I  i  which  awaken  the  natural  indignation 
of  the  human  heart  against  the  pests  and 
the  disturbers  of'  human  society.  Now 
could  I,  upon  the  strength  of  these  warm 
tulations,  have  got  the  thief  to  give 
up  his  stealing,  and  the  evil  speaker  his 
censoriousness,  and  the  liar  his  deviations 
from  truth,  1  should  have  felt  all  the  repose 
of  one  who  had  protten  his  ultimate  object. 
It  never  occurred  to  me  that  all  this  might 
have  been  done,  and  yet  every  soul  of  every 
hearer  have  remained  in  full  alienation  from 
God  ;  and  that  even  could  I  have  established 
in  the  bosom  of  one  who  stole,  such  a  prin- 
ciple  of  abhorrence  at  the  meanness  of  dis- 
honesty, that  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  steal 
no  more,  he  might  still  have  retained  a  heart 
as  completely  unturned  to  God,  .and  as  to- 
tally unpossessed  by  a  principle  of  love  to 
Him,  as  before.  In  a  word,  though  I  might 
have  made  him  a  more  upright  and  honour- 
able man,  T  might  have  left  him  as  destitute 
of  the  essence  of  religious  principle  as  ever. 
But  the  interesting  fact  is,  that  during  the 
whole  of  that  period  in  which  I  made  no 
attempt  against  the  natural  enmity  of  the 
mind  to  God,  while  I  was  inattentive  to  the 
way  in  which  this  enmity  is  dissolved,  even 
by  the  free  offer  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
believing  acceptance  on  the  other,  of  the 
gospel  salvation ;  while  Christ,  through 
whose  blood  the  sinner,  who  by  nature 
stands  afar  off,  is  brought  near  to  the  hea- 
venly Lawgiver  whom  he  has  offended,  was 
scarcely  ever  spoken  of,  or  spoken  of  in 
such  a  way,  as  stripped  him  of  all  the  im- 
portance of  his  character  and  his  offices, 
even  at  this  time  I  certainly  did  press  the 


reformations  of  honour,  and  truth,  and  in- 
tegrity among  my  people;  but  I  never  once 
heard  of  any  such  reformations  having  been 
effected  among  them.  If  there  was  any  thing 
at  all  brought  about  in  this  way,  it  was  more 
than  ever  I  got  any  account  of,     1  am  not 
sensible,  that  all  the  vela  nance  with  which 
I  urged  the  virtues  and  the  proprieties  of 
social  life,  had  the  weight  of  a  leather  an 
the  moral  habits  of  my  parishioners.    And 
it  was  not  till  I  got  impressed  by  the  utter 
alienation  of  the  heart  in  all  its  desiri 
affections  from  God;  it 'was  not  till  recon- 
ciliation to  Him  became  the  distinct  and  the 
prominent  object  of  my  ministerial  exer- 
tions; it  was  not  till  I  took  the  scriptural 
way  of  laying  the  method  of  reconciliation 
before  them ;  it  was  not  till  the  free  offer 
of  forgiveness  through  the  blood  of  Christ 
was  urged  upon  their  acceptance,  and  the 
Holy  Spirit  given  through  the  channel  of 
Christ's  mediatorship  to  all  who  ask  him, 
was  set  before  them  as  the  unceasing  object 
of  their  dependance  and  their  prayers;  it 
was  not,  in  one  word,  till  the  contemplations 
of  my  people  were  turned  to  these  great 
and  essential  elements  in  the  business  of  a 
soul  providing  for  its  interest  with  God  and 
the  concerns  of  its  eternity,  that  I  ever  heard 
of  any  of  those  subordinate  reformations 
which  I  aforetime  made  the  earnest  and  the 
zealous,  but  I  am  afraid  at  the  same  time, 
the  ultimate  object  of  my  earlier  ministra- 
tions.   Ye  servants,  whose  scrupulous  fidel- 
ity has  now  attracted  the  lattice,  and  drawn 
forth  in  my  hearing  a  delightful  testimony 
from  your  masters,  what  mischief  you  would 
have  done,  had  your  zeal  for  doctrines  and 
sacraments  been  accompanied  by  the  sloth 
and  the  remissness,  and  what,  in  the  pre- 
vailing tone  of  moral  relaxation,  is  counted 
the  allowable  purloining  of  your  earlier 
days !    But  a  sense  of  your  heavenly  Mas- 
ter's eye  has  brought  another  influence  to 
bear  upon  you;  and  while  you  are  thus 
striving  to  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  your 
Saviour  in  all  things,  you  may,  poor  as  you 
are,  reclaim  the  great  ones  of  the  land  to 
the  acknowledgment  of  the  faith.  You  have 
at  least  taught  me,  that  to  preach  Christ  is 
the  only  effective  way  of  preaching  morality 
in  all  its  branches;  and  out  of  your  humble 
cottages  have  I  gathered  a  lesson,  which  I 
pray  God  I  may  be  enabled  to  carry  with 
all  its  simplicity  into  a  wider  theatre,  and  to 
bring  with  all  the  power  of  its  subduing 
efficacy  upon  the  vices  of  a  more  crowded 
population. 

And  here  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  observe, 
that,  earnest  as  I  have  been  for  a  plain  and 
practical  outset,  the  very  first  obedience  of 
John's  disciples  was  connected  with  a  be- 
lief in  the  announcement  of  a  common  Sa- 
viour. This  principle  was  present  with 
them,  and  had  its  influence  on  the  earliest 
movements  of  their  repentance.    Faith  in 


206 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


Christ  had  at  that  time  but  an  obscure  dawn- 
ing in  their  minds;  but  they  did  not  wait  for 
its  full  and  its  finished  splendour,  till  they 
should  begin  the  work  of  keeping  the  com- 
mandments. To  this  infant  faith  there  cor- 
responded a  certain  degree  of  obedience, 
and  this  obedience  grew  more  enlightened, 
more  spiritual,  more  allied  with  the  purity 
of  the  heart,  and  the  movements  of  the 
inner  man,  just  as  faith  obtained  its  brighter 
and  larger  accessions  in  the  course  of  the 
subsequent  revelations.  The  disciple  of 
John  keeping  himself  free  from  extortion 
and  adultery,  was  a  very  different  man  from 
the  Pharisee,  who  was  neither  an  extortioner 
nor  an  adulterer.  The  mind  of  the  Phari- 
see rested  on  his  present  performances ;  the 
mind  of  the  disciple  was  filled  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  a  higher  Teacher,  and  he  look- 
ed forward  to  him,  and  was  in  the  attitude 
jf  readiness  to  listen  and  believe,  and  obey. 
Many  of  them  were  transferred  from  the 
forerunner  to  the  Saviour,  and  they  com- 
panied  with  him  during  his  abode  in  the 
worldj  and  were  found  with  one  accord  in 
one  place  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  and 
shared  in  the  influences  of  that  Comforter, 
whom  Christ  promised  to  send  down  upon 
his  disciples  on  earth,  from  the  place  to 
which  he  had  ascended  in  heaven  ;  and  thus 
it  is  that  the  same  men  who  started  with 
the  preaching  of  John  at  the  work  of  put- 
ting their  obvious  and  palpable  transgres- 
sions away  from  them,  were  met  afterwards 
at  the  distance  of  years  living  the  life  of 
faith  in  Christ,  and  growing  in  meetness 
for  a  spiritual  inheritance,  by  growing  in 
all  the  graces  and  accomplishments  of  a 
spiritual  obedience.  There  was  a  faith  in 
Christ,  which  presided  over  the  very  first 
steps  of  their  practical  career;  but  it  is  wor- 
thy of  being  remarked,  that  they  did  not 
wait  in  indolence  till  this  faith  should  re- 
ceive its  further  augmentations.  Upon  this 
faith,  humble  as  it  was  at  its  commence- 
ment, their  teacher  exacted  a  corresponding 
obedience,  and  this  obedience,  so  far  from 
being  suspended  till  what  was  lacking  in 
their  faith  should  be  perfected,  was  the  very 
path  which  conducted  them  to  larger  mani- 
festations. Now,  is  not  faith  a  growing  prin- 
ciple at  this  hour?  Is  not  the  faith  of  an 
incipient  Christian  different  in  its  strength, 
and  in  the  largeness  of  its  contemplations, 
from  the  faith  of  him  who,  by  reason  of 
use,  has  had  his  senses  well  exercised  to  dis- 
cern both  the  good  and  the  evil  ?  I  am  wil- 
ling to  concede  it,  for  it  accords  with  all 
my  experience  on  the  subject,  that  some  an- 
ticipation, however  faint,  of  the  benefit  to 
be  derived  from  an  offered  Saviour ;  some 
apprehension,  however  indistinct,  of  the 
mercy  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus :  some  hope, 
inspired  by  the  peculiar  doctrines  of  the 
Gospel,  and  which  nothing  but  the  preach- 
ing of  that  Gospel  in  all  its  peculiarity  will 


ever  awaken  in  the  mind, — that  these  are 
the  principles  which  preside  over  the  very 
first  movements  of  a  sinner,  casting  away 
from  him  his  transgressions,  and  returning 
unto  God. 

But  let  us  not  'throw  any  impediment  in 
the  way  of  these  first  movements.  Let  us 
have  a  practical  outset.  Let  us  not  be  afraid 
of  giving  an  immediate  character  of  exer- 
tion to  the  very  infancy  of  a  Christian's 
career.  To  wait  in  slavish  adherence  to 
system,  till  the  principle  of  faith  be  depo- 
sited with  all  the  tenacity  of  a  settled  as- 
surance in  the  mind,  or  the  brilliancy  of  a 
finished  light  be  thrown  around  it,  would 
be  to  act  in  the  face  of  scriptural  example. 
Let  the  gospel  be  preached  in  all  its  free- 
ness  at  the  very  outset ;  but  let  us  never 
forget,  that  to  every  varying  degree  of  faith 
in  the  mind  of  the  hearer  there  goes  an 
obedience  along  with  it ;  that  to  forsake  the 
evil  of  his  ways  can  never  be  pressed  too 
early  upon  his  observance ;  that  this, 
and  every  subsequent  degree  of  obe- 
dience, is  the  prescribed  path  to  clearer 
manifestations  ;*  and  that,  to  attempt  the 
establishment  of  a  perfect  faith  by  the  single 
work  of  expounding  the  truth,  is  to  strike 
out  a  spark  of  our  own  kindling — it  is  to 
do  the  thing  in  our  own  way — it  is  to 
throw  aside  the  use  of  scriptural  expedients, 
and  to  substitute  the  mere  possession  of  a 
dogma,  for  that  principle  which,  growing  pro- 
gressively within  lis,  animates  and  sustains 
the  whole  course  of  a  humble,  and  diligent, 
and  assiduous,  and  painstaking  Christian. 

Whence  the  fact,  that  the  deriders  and 
the  enemies  of  evangelical  truth  set  them- 
selves forward  as  the  exclusive  advocates 
of  morality?  It  is  because  many  of  its 
friends  have  not  ventured  to  show  so  bold 
and  so  immediate  a  front  on  this  subject  as 
they  ought  to  have  done.  They  are  posi- 
tively afraid  of  placing  morality  on  the 
fore-ground  of  their  speculations.  They  do 
not  like  it  to  be  so  prominently  brought  for- 
ward at  the  commencement  of  their  in- 
structions. They  have  it,  ay,  and  in  a 
purer  and  holier  form  than  its  more  osten- 
tatious advocates  ;  but  they  have  thrown 
a  doctrinal  barrier  around  it,  which  hides 
it  from  the  general  observation.  Would  it 
not  be  better  to  drag  it  from  this  conceal- 
ment— to  bring  it  out  to  more  immediate 
view — to  place  it  in  large  and  visible  cha- 
racters on  the  very  threshold  of  our  sub- 
ject ;  and  if  our  Saviour  told  his  country- 
men, at  the  very  outset  of  their  disciple- 
ship,  that  they  who  followed  after  him  must 
forsake  all,  is  there  any  thing  to  prevent  us 
from  battling  it  at  the  very  outset  of  our 
ministrations,  with  all  that  is  glaringly  and 
obviously  wrong  ?  Much  should  be  done  to 
chase  away  the  very  general  delusion  which 


*  Jolm,  xiv.  21.   Acts,  v.  32. 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


207 


exists  among 'the  people  of  this  country, 
that  the  preachers  of  faith  are  not  the 
preachers  of  morality.  If  there  be  any 
tiling  in  the  arrangements  of  a  favourite 
system  which  are  at  all  calculated  to  foster 
this  delusion,  these  arrangements  should 
just  be  broke  in  upon.  Obedience  should 
be  written  upon  every  signal ;  and  depar- 
ture from  all  iniquity,  should  be  made  to 
float,  in  a  bright  and  legible  inscription, 
upon  all  our  standards. 

I  call  on  you,  my  brethren,  to  abound  in 
those  good  deeds,  by  which,  if  done  in  the 
body,  Christ  will  be  magnified  in  your  bo- 
dies. I  call  on  you  for  a  prompt  vindica- 
tion of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  by  your 
example  and  your  lives.  Let  me  hear  of  your 
being  the  most  equitable  masters,  and  the 
most  faithful  servants,  and  the  most  up- 
right members  of  society,  and  the  most 
watchful  parents,  and  the  most  dutiful  chil- 
dren. Never  forget,  that  the  object  of  the 
Saviour  is  to  redeem  you  from  all  iniquity, 
and  that  every  act  of  wilful  indulgence,  in 
any  one  species  of  iniquity,  is  a  refusal  to 
go  along  with  him.  Do  maintain  to  the  eye 
of  by-standers  the  conspicuous  front  of  a 
reforming,  and  conscientious,  and  ever-do- 
ing people.  Meet  the  charge  of  those  who 
are  strangers  to  the  power  of  the  truth,  by 
the  noblest  of  all  refutations — by  the  graces 
and  accomplishments  of  a  life  given  in 
faithful  and  entire  dedication  to  the  will  of 
the  Saviour.  Let  the  remembrance  of  what 
he  gave  for  you,  ever  stir  you  up  to  the 
sense  of  what  you  should  give  him  back 
again ;  and  while  others  talk  of  good  works, 
in  such  a  way  as  to  depose  Christ  from  his 
pre-eminence,  do  you  perform  these  good 
works  through  Christ,  by  the  power  of  his 
grace  working  in  you  mightily. 

And  think  not  that  you  have  attained,  or 
are  already  perfect.  Have  your  eye  ever 
directed  to  the  perfect  righteousness  of 
Christ,  as  the  only  ground  of  your  accep- 
tance with  God,  and  as  the  only  exam- 
ple you  should  never  cease  to  aspire  after. 
Rest  not  in  any  one  measure  of  attainment. 
Think  not  that  you  should  stop  short  till  you 
are  righteous,  even  as  he  is  glorious.  Take 
unto  you  the  whole  armour  of  God,  that 
you  be  fitted  for  the  contest,  and  prove  that 
you  arc  indeed  born  again  by  the  anointing 
which  you  have  received,  being  an  anoint- 
ing which  remaineth.  May  the  very  God 
of  peace  sanctify  you  wholly.  May  he  shed 
abroad  his  love  in  your  hearts.  And  may 
the  Spirit  which  I  call  on  you  to  pray  for, 
in  the  faith  of  Him  who  is  entrusted  with 
the  dispensation  of  it,  impel  you  to  all  dili- 
gence, that  you  may  be  found  of  Him,  at  his 
coming,  without  spot,  and  blameless. 

I  shall  conclude  this  very  hurried  and  im- 
perfect Address,  with  the  last  words  of  my 
last  sermon  to  you. 

"  It  is  not  enough  that  you  receive  Christ 


for  the  single  object  of  forgiveness,  or  as  a 
Priest  who  has  wrought  out  an  atonement 
for  you ;  for  Christ  offers  himself  in  more 
capacities  than  this  one,  and  you  do  not 
receive  him  truly,  unless  you  receive  him 
just  as  he  offers  himself.     Again  it  is  not 
enough  that  you  receive  Chris!  only  as  a 
Priest  and  a  Prophet ;  for  all  that  he  teaches 
will  be  to  you  a  dead  letter,  unless  you  are 
qualified  to  understand  ami  to  obey  it ;  and 
if  you  think  that  you  are  qualified  by  na- 
ture, you  in  fact,  refuse  his  teaching,  at  the 
very  time  that  you  profess  him  to  be  your 
teacher,  for  he  says,  '  without  me  ye  can 
do  nothing.'    You  must  receive  him  for 
strength,  as  well  as  for  forgiveness  and  direc- 
tion, or,  in  other  words,  you  must  submit 
to  him  as  your  King,  not  merely  to  rule 
over  you  by  his  law,  but  to  rule  in  you  by 
his  Spirit.     You  must  live  in  constant  de- 
pendance  on  the  influences  of  his  grace, 
and  if  you  do  so,  you  never  will  stop  short 
at  any  one  point  of  obedience ;  but,  know- 
ing that  the  grace  of  God  is  all-powerful, 
you  will  suffer  no  difficulties  to  stop  your 
progress ;  you  will  suffer  no  paltry  limit  of 
what  unaided  human  nature   can   do,  to 
bound  your  ambition  after  the  glories  of  a 
purer  and  a  better  character  than  an  earth- 
ly principle  can  accomplish  ;  you  will  enter 
a  career,  of  which  you  at  this  moment  see 
not  the  end  ;  you  will  try  an  ascent,  of 
which  the  lofty  eminence  is  hid   in   the 
darkness  of  futurity;  the  chilling  sentiment, 
that  no  higher  obedience  is  expected  of  me 
than  what  I  can  yield,  will  have  no  influence 
upon  you  ;  for  the  mighty  stretch  of  attain- 
ment that  you  look  forward  to,  is  not  what 
I  can  do,  but  what  Christ  can  do  in  me ; 
and,  with  the  all-subduing  instrument  of 
his  grace  to  help  you  through  every  diffi- 
culty, and  to  carry  you  in  triumph  over 
every  opposition,  you  will  press  forward 
conquering  and  to  conquer  ;  and,  while  the 
world  knoweth  not  the    power  of  those 
great  and  animating  hopes  which  sustain 
you,  you  will  be  making  daily  progress  in 
a  field  of  discipline  and  acquirement  which 
they  have  never  entered ;  and  in  patience 
and  forgiveness,  and  gentleness  and  cha- 
rity, and  the  love  of  God  and  the  love  of 
your  neighbour,  which  is  like  unto  the  love 
of  God,  you  will  prove  that  a  work  of  grace 
is  going  on  in  your  hearts,  even  that  work 
by  which  the  image  you  lost  at  the  fall  is 
repaired  and  brought  back  ajain,  the  em- 
pire   of   sin    within   you    is    overthrown, 
the  subjection  of  your  hearts  to  what  is 
visible   and   earthly  is  exchanged  for  the 
power  of  the  unseen  world  over  its  every 
affection,  and  you  be  filled  with  such  a  faith, 
and  such  a  love,  and  such  a  superiority  to 
perishable  things,  as  will  shed  a  glory  over 
the  whole  of  your  daily  walk,  and  give  to 
every  one  of  your  doings  the  high  charac 
ter  of  a  candidate  for  eternity. 


208 


DUTY  OF  DILIGENCE   IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


K  Christ  is  offered  to  all  of  you  for  for- 
giveness. The  man  who  takes  him  for  tins 
single  object  must  be  looking  at  him  with 
an  eye  half  shut,  upon  the  revelation  he 
makes  of  himself.  Look  at  him  with  an  open 
and  a  steadfast  eye,  and  then  I  will  call 
you  a  true  believer ;  and  sure  I  am,  that  if 
you  do  so,  you  cannot  avoid  seeing  him  in 
the  earnestness  of  his  desire  that  you 
should  give  up  all  sin,  and  enter  from  this 
moment  into  all  obedience.  True,  and 
most  true,  my  brethren,  that  faith  will 
save  you;  but  it  must  be  a  whole  faith 
in  a  whole  Bible.  True,  and  most  true, 
that  they  who  keep  the  commandments 
of  Jesus  shall  enter  into  life ;  but  you 
are  not  to  shrink  from  any  one  of  these 
commandments,  or  to  say  because  they 
are  so  much  above  the  power  of  human- 
ity, that  you  must  give  up  the  task  of 
attempting  them.  True,  and  most  true, 
that  he  who  trusteth  to  his  obedience  as  a 
saviour,  is  shifting  his  confidence  from  the 
alone  foundation  it  can  rest  upon.  Christ 
is  your  Saviour  ;  and  when  I  call  upon  you 
to  rejoice  in  that  reconciliation  which  is 
through  him,  I  call  upon  you  not  to  leave 
him  for  a  single  moment,  when  you  engage 
in  the  work  of  doing  those  things  which  if 
left  undone,  will  exclude  us  from  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  Take  him  along  with  you 
into  all  your  services.  Let  the  sentiment 
ever  be  upon  you,  that  what  I  am  now 
doing  I  may  do  in  my  own  strength  to  the 
satisfaction  of  man,  but  I  must  have  the 
power  of  Christ  resting  upon  the  perform- 
ance, if  I  wish  to  do  it  in  the  way  that  is 
acceptable  to  God.  Let  this  be  your  habi- 
tual sentiment,  and  then  the  supposed  op- 
position between  faith  and  works  vanishes 
into  nothing.  The  life  of  a  believer  is  made 
up  of  good  works ;  and  faith  is  the  ani- 
mating and  the  power-working  principle 
of  every  one  of  them.  The  spirit  of  Christ 
actuates  and  sustains  the  whole  course  of 
your  obedience.  You  walk  not  away  from 
him,  but  in  the  language  of  the  text,  you 
'  walk  in  him,'  (Col.  ii.  6.)  and  as  there  is 
not  one  of  your  doings  in  which  he  does 
not  feel  a  concern,  and  prescribe  a  duty 
for  you,  so  there  is  not  one  of  them  in 
which  his  grace  is  not  in  readiness  to  put 
the  right  principle  into  your  heart,  and  to 
bring  it  out  into  your  conduct,  and  to  make 
your  walk  accord  with  your  profession,  so 
as  to  let  the  world  see  upon  you  without, 
the  power  and  the  efficacy  of  the  sentiment 
within :  and  thus,  while  Christ  has  the 
whole  merit  of  your  forgiveness,  he  has  the 
whole  merit  of  your  sanctification  also,  and 
the  humble  and  deeply-felt  consciousness 
of '  nevertheless  not  me,  but  the  grace  of 
God  that  is  in  me,'  restores  to  Jesus  Christ 


all  the  credit  and  all  the  glory  which  belong 
to  him,  by  making  him  your  only,  and  your 
perfect,  and  your  entire,  and  your  altoge- 
ther Saviour. 

"  Choose  him,  then,  my  brethren,  choose 
him  as  the  Captain  of  your  salvation  Let 
him  enter  into  your  hearts  by  faith,  and  let 
him  dwell  continually  there.  Cultivate  a 
daily  intercourse  and  a  growing  acquaint- 
ance with  him.  O,  you  are  in  safe  com- 
pany, indeed,  when  your  fellowship  is  with 
him  !  The  shield  of  his  protecting  medi- 
atorship  is  ever  between  you  and  the  jus- 
tice of  God ;  and  out  of  "his  fullness  there 
goeth  a  constant  stream,  to  nourish,  and'  to 
animate,  and  to  strengthen  every  believer. 
Why  should  the  shifting  of  human  instru- 
ments so  oppress  and  so  discourage  you, 
when  he  is  your  willing  friend ;  when  he 
is  ever  present,  and  is  at  all  times  in  readi- 
ness ;  when  he,  the  same  to-day,  yesterday, 
and  for  ever,  is  to  be  met  with  in  every 
place;  and  while  his  disciples  here,  giving 
way  to  the  power  of  sight,  are  sorrowful, 
and  in  great  heaviness,  because  they  are  to 
move  at  a  distance  from  one  another,  he, 
my  brethren,  he  has  his  eye  upon  all  neigh- 
bourhoods and  all  countries,  and  will  at 
length  gather  his  disciples  into  one  eternal 
family.  With  such  a  Master,  let  us  quit 
ourselves  like  men.  With  the  magnifi- 
cence of  eternity  before  us,  let  time,  with 
its  fluctuations,  dwindle  into  its  own  little- 
ness. If  God  is  pleased  to  spare  me,  I  trust 
I  shall  often  meet  with  you  in  person,  even 
on  this  side  of  the  grave  ;  but  if  not,  let  us 
often  meet  in  prayer  at  the  mercy-seat  of 
God.  While  we  occupy  different  places 
on  earth,  let  our  mutual  intercessions  for 
each  other  go  to  one  place  in  heaven.  Let 
the  Saviour  put  our  supplications  into  one 
censer ;  and  be  assured,  my  brethren,  that 
after  the  dear  and  the  much-loved  scenery 
of  this  peaceful  vale  has  disappeared  from 
my  eye,  the  people  who  live  in  it  shall  re- 
tain a  warm  and  an  ever-during  place  in 
my  memory ; — and  this  mortal  body  must 
be  stretched  on  the  bed  of  death,  ere  the 
heart  which  now  animates  it  can  resign  its 
exercise  of  longing  after  you,  and  praying 
for  you,  that  you  may  so  receive  Christ 
Jesus,  and  so  walk  in  him,  and  so  hold  fast 
the  things  you  have  gotten,  and  so  prove 
that  the  labour  I  have  had  among  you  has 
not  been  in  vain;  that  when  the  sound  of 
the  last  trumpet  awakens  us,  these  eyes, 
which  are  now  bathed  in  tears,  may  open 
upon  a  scene  of  eternal  blessedness,  and 
we,  my  brethren,  whom  the  providence  of 
God  has  withdrawn  for  a  little  while  from 
one  another,  may  on  that  day  be  found  side 
by  side  at  the  right  hand  of  the  everlasting 
throne." 


APPENDIX. 


Since  the  present  edition  of  this  work  was  put- 
ting to  press,  I  have  seen  a  review  of  it  by  the 
Christian  Instructor,  and  the  following  are  the  im- 
mediate observations  which  the  perusal  of  this  re- 
view has  suggested. 

I  meant  no  attack  on  any  body  of  clergy,  and  I 
have  made  no  attack  upon  them.  The  people  whom 
I  addressed  were  the  main  object  on  which  my 
attention  rested;  and  any  thing  I  have  said  in  the 
style  of  animadversion,  was  chiefly,  if  not  exclu- 
sively, with  a  reference  to  that  perverseness  which 
1  think  1  have  witnessed  in  the  conceptions  and 
habits  of  private  Christians. 

I  have  alluded,  no  doubt,  to  a  method  of  treat- 
ment un  the  part  of  some  of  the  teachers  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  which  I  believe  to  be  both  inefficient 
and  unscriptural.  But  have  I  at  all  asserted  the 
extent  to  which  this  method  prevails  1  Have  I  ven- 
tured to  fasten  an  imputation  upon  any  marked  or 
general  body  of  Christian  ministers  1  It  was  no 
object  of  mine  to  set  forth  or  to  signalize  my  own 
peculiarity  in  this  matter;  and  if  I  rightly  under- 
stand who  the  men  are  whom  the  reviewer  has  in 
his  eve  when  he  speaks  of  the  evangelical  clergy, 
then  does  he  represent  me  as  dealing  out  my  cen- 
sures against  those  whom  I  honestly  believe  to  be 
the  instrumental  cause  of  nearly  all  the  vital  and 
substantial  Christianity  in  the  land. 

Again,  is  it  not  possible  for  a  man  to  have  an 
awakened  and  tender  sense  of  the  sinfulness  of  one 
sin,  and  to  have  a  very  slender  and  inadequate 
sense  of  the  sinfulness  of  another  1  Might  not  the 
first  circumstance  beget  in  his  mind  an  honest  and 
a  general  desire  to  be  delivered  from  sin ;  and  might 
not  the  second  circumstance  account  for  the  fact, 
that  with  this  mourning  for  sin  in  the  gross,  he 
should  put  forth  his  hand  without  scruple  to  the 
commission  of  what  is  actually  sinful?  I  do  not 
know  a  more  familiar  exhibition  of  this,  than  of  a 
man  who  would  be  visited  with  remorse  were  he  to 

27 


walk  in  the  fields  on  a  Sabbath  day  at  the  tune  of 
divine  service,  and  the  very  same  man  indulging 
without  remorse  his  propensity  to  throw  ridicule  or 
discredit  on  an  absent  character.  His  actual  re- 
morse on  the  commission  of  all  that  he  feels  to  be 
sinful,  might  lead  a  man  to  mourn  over  sin  in  the 
general ;  but  surely  this  general  direction  of  his  can 
have  no  such  necessary  influence,  as  the  reviewer 
contends  for,  in  the  way  of  leading  him  to  renounce 
what  he  does  not  feel  to  be  sinful.  But  this  is  what 
he  should  be  made  to  feel ;  and  it  may  be  done  in 
two  ways — either  in  the  didactic,  way,  by  a  formal 
announcement  that  the  deed  in  question  is  con- 
trarv  to  the  law  of  God;  or  in  the  imperative  way, 
by  bidding  him  cease  from  the  doing  of  it, — a  way 
no  less  effective  and  scriptural  than  the  former,  and 
brought  to  bear  in  the  New  Testament  upon  men 
at  the  earliest  conceivable  stage  of  their  progress 
from  sin  unto  righteousness. 

I  share  most  cordially  in  opinion  with  the  re- 
viewer, that  he  might  extend  his  observations 
greatly  beyond  the  length  of  the  original  pamphlet, 
were  he  to  say  all  that  might  be  said  on  the  topics 
brought  forward  in  it.  I  believe  that  it  would  re- 
quire the  compass  of  an  extended  volume  to  meet 
every  objection,  and  to  turn  the  argument  in  even- 
possible  way.  I  did  not  anticipate  all  the  notice- 
that  has  been  taken  of  this  performance,  and  am 
fearful  lest  it  should  defeat  the  intended  effect  on 
the  hearts  of  a  plain  people.  With  this  feeling  1 
close  the  discussion  for  the  present ;  and  my  desire 
is,  that  in  all  I  may  afterwards  say  upon  this  sub- 
ject, I  may  be  preserved  from  that  tone  of  contro- 
versy, which  I  feel  to  be  hurtful  to  the  practical 
influence  of  every  truth  it  accompanies ;  and  which, 
I  fear,  may  have  in  so  far  infected  my  former  com 
munications,  as  to  make  it  more  fitted  to  arouse  the 
speculative  tendencies  of  the  mind,  and  provoke  to 
an  intellectual  warfare,  than  to  tell  on  the  conscience 
and  on  the  doings  of  an  earnest  inquirer. 


THE 


INFLUENCE  OF  BIBLE   SOCIETIES, 


ON  THE 


TEMPORAL  NECESSITIES  OF  THE  POOR. 


ARGUMENT. 


1.  The  Objection  stated.  2.  The  Radical  Answer  to  it.  3.  But  the  Objection  is  not  true  in  point 
of  fact.  4.  A  former  act  of  charity  does  not  exempt  from  the  obligation  of  a  new  act,  if  it  can  be 
afforded.  5.  Estimate  of  the  encroachment  made  by  the  Bible  Society  upon  the  funds  of  the  country. 
6.  A  Subscriber  to  the  Bible  Society  does  not  give  less  to  the  Poor  on  that  account.  7.  Evidence  for 
the  truth  of  this  assertion.  8.  And  explanation  of  its  principle.  (1.)  The  ability  for  other  acts  of 
charity  nearly  as  entire  as  before.  9.  (2.)  And  the  disposition  greater.  10.  Poverty  is  better  kept 
under  by  a  preventive,  than  by  a  positive  treatment.  11.  Exemplified  in  Scotland.  12.  The  Bible 
Society  has  a  strong  preventive  operation.  13.  And  therefore  promotes  the  secular  interests  of  the 
Poor.  14.  The  argument  carried  down  to  the  case  of  Penny  Societies.  15.  Difficulty  in  the  exposi- 
tion of  the  argument.  16.  The  effects  of  a  charitable  endowment  in  a  parish  pernicious  to  the  Poor. 
17.  By  inducing  a  dependance  upon  it.  18.  And  stripping  them  of  their  industrious  habits.  10.  The 
effects  of  a  Bible  Association  are  in  an  opposite  direction  to  those  of  a  charitable  endowment.  20.  And 
it  stands  completely  free  of  all  the  objections  to  which  a  tax  is  liable.  21.  A  Bible  Association  gives 
dignity  to  the  Poor.  22.  And  a  delicate  reluctance  to  pauperism.  23.  The  shame  of  pauperism  is  the 
best  defence  against  it.  24.  How  a  Bible  Association  augments  this  feeling.  25.  By  dignifying  the 
Poor.  2G.  And  adding  to  the  influence  of  Bible  Principles.  27.  Exemplified  in  the  humblest  situa- 
tion. 28.  The  progress  of  these  Associations  in  the  country.  29.  Compared  with  other  Associations 
for  the  relief  of  temporal  necessities.  30.  The  more  salutary  influence  of  Bible  Associations.  31.  And 
how  they  counteract  the  pernicious  influence  of  other  charities.  32.  It  is  best  to  confide  the  secular 
relief  of  the  Poor  to  individual  benevolence.  33.  And  a  Bible  Association  both  augments  and  en- 
lightens tliis  principle. 


1.  Without  entering  into  the  positive 
claims  of  the  Bible  Society  upon  the  gene- 
rosity of  the  public,  I  shall  endeavour  to  do 
away  an  objection  which  meets  us  at  the 
very  outset  of  every  attempt  to  raise  a  sub- 
scription, or  to  found  an  institution  in  its 
favour.  The  secular  necessities  of  the  poor 
are  brought  into  competition  with  it,  and 
every  shilling  given  to  the  Bible  Society  is 
represented  as  an  encroachment  upon  that 
fund  which  was  before  allocated  to  the  re- 
lief of  poverty. 

2.  Admitting  the  fact  stated  in  the  objec- 
tion to  be  true,  we  have  an  answer  in  readi- 
ness for  it.  If  the  Bible  Society  accomplish 
its  professed  object,  which  is,  to  make  those 
who  were  before  ignorant  of  the  Bible  bet- 
ter acquainted  with  it,  then  the  advantage 
given  more  than  atones  for  the  loss  sus- 
tained. We  stand  upon  the  high  ground, 
that  eternity  is  longer  than  time,  and  the 
unfading  enjoyments  of  the  one  a  boon 
more  valuable  than  the  perishable  enjoy- 
ments of  the  other.  Money  is  sometimes 
expended  for  the  idle  purpose  of  amusing 
the  poor  by  the  gratuitous  exhibition  of  a 
spectacle  or  show.  It  is  a  far  wiser  distribu- 


tion of  the  money  when  it  is  transferred 
from  this  object  to  the  higher  and  more 
useful  objects  of  feeding  those  among  them 
who  are  hungry,  clothing  those  among  them 
who  are  naked,  and  paying  for  medicine  or 
attendance  to  those  among  them  who  are 
sick.  We  make  bold  to  say,  that  if  money 
for  the  purpose  could  be  got  from  no  other 
quarter,  it  would  be  a  wiser  distribution  still 
to  withdraw  it  from  the  objects  last  men- 
tioned to  the  supreme  object  of  paying  for 
the  knowledge  of  religion  to  those  among 
them  who  are  ignorant ;  and,  at  the  hazard 
of  being  execrated  by  many,  we  do  not 
hesitate  to  affirm,  that  it  is  better  for  the 
poor  to  be  worse  fed  and  worse  clothed,  than 
that  they  should  be  left  ignorant  of  thoss 
Scriptures,  which  are  able  to  make  them 
wise  unto  salvation  through  the  faith  that 
is  in  Christ  Jesus. 

3.  But  the  statement  contained  in  the  ob- 
jection is  not  true.  It  seems  to  go  upon  the 
supposition,  that  the  fund  for  relieving  the 
temporal  wants  of  the  poor  is  the  only  fund 
which  exists  in  the  country;  and  that  when 
any  new  object  of  benevolence  is  started, 
there  is  no  other  fund  to  which  we  can  re- 

320 


INFLUENCE  OF  BIBLE  SOCIETIES. 


211 


pair  for  the  requisite  expenses.  But  there 
are  other  funds  in  the  country.  There  is  a 
prodigious  fund  for  the  maintenance  of  go- 
vernment, nor  do  we  wish  that  fund  to  be 
encroached  upon  by  a  single  farthing.  There 
is  a  fund  out  of  which  the  people  of  the  land 
are  provided  in  the  necessaries  of  life:  and 
before  we  incur  the  odium  of  trenching 
upon  necessaries,  let  us  first  inquire,  if  there 
be  no  other  fund  in  existence.  Go,  then,  to 
all  who  are  ebvated  above  the  class  of  mere 
labourers,  ana  you  will  find  in  their  pos- 
session a  fund,  out  of  which  they  are  pro- 
vided with  what  are  commonly  called  the 
superfluities  of  life.  We  do  not  dispute  their 
right  to  these  superfluities,  nor  do  we  deny 
the  quantity  of  pleasure  which  lies  in  the 
enjoyment  of  them.  We  only  state  the  ex- 
istence of  such  a  fund,  and  that  by  a  trifling 
act  of  self-denial  on  the  part  of  those  who 
possess  it,  we  could  obtain  all  that  we  are 
pleading  for.  It  is  a  little  hard,  that  the  com- 
petition should  be  struck  between  the  fund 
of  the  Bible  Society  and  the  fund  for  reliev- 
ing the  temporal  wants  of  the  poor,  while 
the  far  larger  and  more  transferable  fund 
for  superfluities  is  left  out  of  consideration 
entirely,  and  suffered  to  remain  an  untouch- 
ed and  unimpaired  quantity.  In  this  way, 
the  odium  of  hostility  to  the  poor  is  fastened 
upon  those  who  are  labouring  for  their  most 
substantial  interests,  while  a  set  of  men  who 
neglect  the  immortality  of  the  poor,  and 
would  leave  their  souls  to  perish,  are  suf- 
fered to  sheer  off  with  the  credit  of  all  the 
finer  sympathies  of  our  nature. 

4.  To  whom  much  is  given,  of  them  much 
will  be  required.  Whatever  be  your  former 
liberalities  in  another  direction,  when  a  new 
and  a  likely  direction  of  benevolence  is 
pointed  out,  the  question  still  comes  back 
upon  you,  What  have  you  to  spare?  If 
there  be  a  remainder  left,  it  is  by  the  extent 
of  this  remainder  that  you  will  be  judged ; 
and  it  is  not  right  to  set  the  claims  of  the 
Bible  Society  against  the  secular  necessities 
of  the  poor,  while  means  so  ample  are  left, 
that  the  true  way  of  instituting  the  compe 
tition  is  to  set  these  claims  against  some 
personal  gratification  which  it  is  in  your 
power  to  abandon.  Have  a  care,  lest  with 
the  language  of  philanthropy  in  your  mouth, 
you  shall  be  found  guilty  of  the  crudest 
indifference  to  the  true  welfare  of  the  spe- 
cies, and  lest  the  Discerner  of  your  heart 
shall  perceive  how  it  prefers  some  sordid 
indulgence  of  its  own  to  the  dearest  interests 
of  those  around  you. 

5.  But  let  me  not  put  to  hazard  the  pros- 
perity of  our  cause,  by  resting  it  on  a 
standard  of  charity  far  too  elevated  for  the 
general  practice  of  the  times.  Let  us  now 
drop  our  abstract  reasoning  upon  the  re- 
spective funds,  and  come  to  an  actual  spe- 
cification of  their  quantities.  The  truth  is, 
that  the  fund  for  the  Bible  Society  is  so 


very  small,  that  it  is  not  entitled  to  make 
its  appearance  in  any  abstract  argument 
whatever,  and  were  it  not  to  do  away  even 
the  shadow  of  an  objection,  we  would  have 
been  ashamed  to  have  thrown  the  argument 
into  the  language  of  general  discussion. 
What  shall  we  think  of  the  objection  when 
told,  that  the  whole  yearly  revenue  of  the 
Bible  Society,  as  derived  from  the  contribu- 
tions of  those  who  support  it,  does  not 
amount  to  a  half-penny  per  month  from 
each  householder  in  Britain  and  Ireland? 
Can  this  be  considered  as  a  serious  invasion 
upon  any  one  fund  allotted  to  other  desti- 
nations, and  shall  the  most  splendid  and 
promising  enterprise  that  ever  benevolence 
was  engaged  in,  be  arrested  upon  an  objec- 
tion so  fanciful?  We  do  not  want  to  oppress 
any  individual  by  the  extravagance  of  our 
demands.  It  is  not  in  great  sums,  but  in 
the  combination  of  littles,  that  our  strength 
lies.  It  is  the  power  of  combination  which 
resolves  the  mystery.  Great  has  been  the 
progress  and  activity  of  the  Bible  Society 
since  its  first  institution.  All  we  want  is, 
that  this  rate  of  activity  be  kept  up  and  ex- 
tended. The  above  statement  will  convince 
the  reader,  that  there  is  ample  room  for  the 
extension.  The  whole  fund  for  the  secular 
wants  of  the  poor  may  be  left  untouched, 
and  as  to  the  fund  for  luxuries,  the  revenue 
of  the  Bible  Society  may  be  augmented  a 
hundred-fold  before  this  fund  is  sensibly 
encroached  upon.  The  veriest  crumbs  and 
sweepings  of  extravagance  would  suffice 
us;  and  it  will  be  long,  and  very  long,  be- 
fore any  invasion  of  ours  upon  this  fund 
shall  give  rise  to  any  perceivable  abridge- 
ment of  luxury,  or  have  the  weight  of  a 
straw  upon  the  general  style  and  establish- 
ment of  families. 

6.  But  there  is  still  another  way  of  meet- 
ing the  objection.  Let  us  come  immediately 
to  a  question  upon  the  point  of  faet.  Does 
a  man,  on  becoming  a  subscriber  to  the 
Bible  Society,  give  less  to  the  secular  wants 
of  the  poor  than  he  did  formerly?  It  is 
true,  there  is  a  difficulty  in  the  way  of  ob- 
taining an  answer  to  this  question.  He 
who  knows  best  what  answer  to  give  will 
be  the  last  to  proclaim  it.  In  as  far  as  the 
subscribers  themselves  are  concerned,  we 
must  leave  the  answer  to  their  own  expe- 
rience, and  sure  we  are  that  that  experience 
will  not  be  against  us.  But  it  is  not  from 
this  quarter  that  we  can  expect  to  ob- 
tain the  wished  for  information.  The  be- 
nevolence of  an  individual  does  not  stand 
out  to  the  eye  of  the  public.  The  know- 
ledge of  its  operations  is  confined  to  the 
little  neighbourhood  within  which  it  expa- 
tiates. It  is  often  kept  from  the  poor  them- 
selves, and  then  the  information  we  are  in 
quest  of  is  shut  up  witli  the  giver  in  the  si- 
lent consciousness  of  his  bosom,  and  with 
God  in  the  book  of  his  remembrance. 


212 


INFLUENCE  OF  BIBLE  SOCIETIES. 


7.  But  much  good  has  been  done  of  late 
years  by  the  combined  exertions  of  indi- 
viduals ;  and  benevolence,  when  operating 
in  this  way,  is  necessarily  exposed  to  pub- 
lic observation.  Subscriptions  have  been 
started  for  almost  every  one  object  which 
benevolence  can  devise,  and  the  published 
lists  may  furnish  us  >vith  data  for  a  par- 
tial solution  of  the  proposed  question.  In 
point  of  fact,  then,  those  who  subscribe 
for  a  religious  object,  subscribe  with  the 
greatest  readiness  and  liberality  for  the  re- 
lief of  human  affliction,  under  all  the  vari- 
ous forms  in  which  it  pleads  for  sympathy. 
This  is  quite  notorious.  The  human  mind, 
by  singling  out  the  eternity  of  others  as  the 
main  object  of  its  benevolence,  does  not 
withdraw  itself  from  the  care  of  sustaining 
them  on  the  way  which  leads  to  eternity.  It 
exerts  an  act  of  preference,  but  not  an  act 
of  exclusion.  A  friend  of  mine  has  been 
indebted  to  an  active  and  beneficent  patron, 
for  a  lucrative  situation  in  a  distant  country, 
but  he  wants  money  to  pay  his  travelling 
expenses.  I  commit  every  reader  to  his 
own  experience  of  human  nature,  when  I 
rest  with  him  the  assertion,  that  if  real 
kindness  lay  at  the  bottom  of  this  act  of  pa- 
tronage, the  patron  himself  is  the  likeliest 
quarter  from  which  the  assistance  will  come. 
The  man  who  signalizes  himself  by  his  re- 
ligious charities,  is  not  the  last  but  the  first 
man  to  whom  I  would  apply  in  behalf  of 
the  sick  and  the  destitute.  The  two  prin- 
ciples are  not  inconsistent.  They  give  sup- 
port and  nourishment  to  each  other,  or 
rather  they  are  exertions  of  the  same  prin- 
ciple. This  will  appear  in  full  display  on 
the  day  of  judgment ;  and  even  in  this  dark 
and  undiscerning  world,  enough  of  evidence 
is  before  us  upon  which  the  benevolence  of 
the  Christian  stands  nobly  vindicated,  and 
from  which  it  may  be  shown,  that,  while 
its  chief  care  is  for  the  immortality  of  others, 
it  casts  a  wide  and  a  wakeful  eye  over  all 
the  necessities  and  sufferings  of  the  species. 
8.  Nor  have  we  far  to  look  for  the  ex- 
planation. The  two  elements  which  com- 
bine to  form  an  act  of  charity,  are  the  abi- 
lity and  the  disposition,  and  the  question 
simply  resolves  itself  into  this,  "  In  how  far 
these  elements  will  survive  a  donation  to 
the  Bible  Society,  so  as  to  leave  the  other 
charities  unimpaired  by  it  ?"  It  is  certainly 
conceivable,  that  an  individual  may  give 
every  spare  farthing  of  his  income  to  this 
institution.  In  this  case,  there  is  a  total 
extinction  of  the.  first  element.  But  in  point 
of  fact,  this  is  never  done,  or  done  so  rarely 
as  not  to  be  admitted  into  any  general  ar- 
gument. With  by  far  the  greater  number 
of  subscribers,  the  ability  is  not  sensibly  en- 
croached upon.  There  is  no  visible  re- 
trenchment in  the  superfluities  of  life.  A 
very  slight  and  partial  change  in  the  direc- 
tion of  that  fund,  which  is  familiarly  known 


by  the  name  of  pocket-money,  can,  gene- 
rally speaking,  provide  for  the  whole 
amount  of  the  donation  in  question.  There 
are  a  thousand  floating  and  incidental  ex- 
penses, which  can  be  given  up  without 
almost  the  feeling  of  a  sacrifice,  and  the  di- 
version of  a  few  of  them  to  the  charity  we 
are  pleading  for,  leaves  the  ability  of  the 
giver  to  all  sense  as  entire  as  before. 

9.  But  the  second  element  is  subject  to 
other  laws,  and  the  formal  calculations  of 
arithmetic  do  not  apply  to  it.  The  dispo- 
sition is  not  like  the  ability,  a  given  quan- 
tity, which  suffers  an  abstraction  by  every 
new  exercise.  The  effect  of  a  donation 
upon  the  purse  of  a  giver,  is  not  the  same 
with  the  moral  influence  of  that  donation 
upon  his  heart.  Yet  the  two  are  assimi- 
lated by  our  antagonists,  and  the  pedantry 
of  computation  carries  them  to  results  which 
are  in  the  face  of  all  experience.  It  is  not 
so  easy  to  awaken  the  benevolent  principle 
out  of  its  sleep,  as,  when  once  awakened  in 
behalf  of  one  object,  to  excite  and  to  inter- 
est it  in  behalf  of  another.  When  the  bar 
of  selfishness  is  broken  down,  and  the  flood- 
gates of  the  heart  are  once  opened,  the 
stream  of  beneficence  can  be  turned  into  a 
thousand  directions.  It  is  true,  that  there 
can  be  no  beneficence  without  wealth,  as 
there  can  be  no  stream  without  water.  It 
is  conceivable  that  the  opening  of  the  flood- 
gates may  give  rise  to  no  flow,  as  the  open- 
ing of  *a  poor  man's  heart  to  the  distresses 
of  those  around  him  may  give  rise  to  no  act 
of  almsgiving.  But  we  have  already  proved 
the  abundance  of  wealth.  [Sec.  8.]  It  is 
the  selfishness  of  the  inaccessible  heart 
which  forms  the  mighty  barrier,  and  if  this 
could  be  done  away,  a  thousand  fertilizing 
streams  would  issue  from  it.  Now,  this  is 
what  the  Bible  Society,  in  many  instances, 
has  accomplished.  It  has  unlocked  the 
avenue  to  many  a  heart,  which  was  before 
inaccessible.  It  has  come  upon  them  with 
all  the  energy  of  a  popular  and  prevailing 
impulse.  It  has  created  in  them  a  new  taste 
and  a  new  principle.  It  has  opened  the 
fountain,  and  we  are  sure  that,  in  every  dis- 
trict of  the  land  where  a  Bible  Association 
exists,  the  general  principle  of  benevolence 
is  more  active  and  more  expanding  than 
ever. 

10.  And  after  all,  what  is  the  best  me- 
thod of  providing  for  the  secular  necessi- 
ties of  the  poor?  Is  it  by  labouring  tc 
meet  the  necessity  after  it  has  occurred,  or 
by  labouring  to  establish  a  principle  and  a 
habit  which  would  go  far  to  prevent  its  ex- 
istence ?  If  you  wish  to  get  rid  of  a  noxious 
stream,  you  may  first  try  to  intercept  it  by 
throwing  across  a  barrier ;  but  in  this  way, 
you  only  spread  the  pestilential  water  ov*er 
a  greater  extent  of  ground,  and  when  the 
basin  is  filled,  a  stream  as  copious  as  be- 
fore is  formed  out  of  its  overflow.     The 


INFLUENCE  OF  BIBLE  SOCIETIES. 


213 


most  effectual  method,  were  it  possible  to 
carry  it  into  accomplishment,  would  be  to 
dry  up  the  source.  The  parallel  in  a  great 
measure  holds.  II'  you  wish  to  extinguish 
poverty,  combat  with  it  in  its  first  elements. 
If  you  confine  your  beneficence  to  the  re- 
lief of  actual  poverty,  you  do  nothing.  Dry 
up,  if  possible,  the  spring  of  poverty,  for 
every  attempt  to  intercept  the  running 
stream  has  totally  failed.  The  education 
and  the  religious  principle  of  Scotland  have 
not  annihilated  pauperism,  but  they  have 
restrained  it  to  a  degree  that  is  almost  in- 
credible to  our  neighbours  of  the  South. 
They  keep  down  the  mischief  in  its  princi- 
ple. They  impart  a  sobriety  and  a  right 
sentiment  of  independence  to  the  character 
of  our  peasantry.  They  operate  as  a  check 
upon  profligacy  and  idleness.  The  main- 
tenance of  parish  schools  is  a  burden  upon 
the  landed  property  of  Scotland,  but  it  is  a 
cheap  defence  against  the  poor  rates,  a  bur- 
den far  heavier,  and  which  is  aggravating 
perpetually.  The  writer  of  the  paper  knows 
of  a  parish  in  Fife,  the  average  mainten- 
ance of  whose  poor  is  defrayed  by  twenty- 
four  pounds  sterling  a  year,  and  of  a  parish, 
of  the  same  population,  in  Somersetshire, 
where  the  annual  assessments  come  to 
thirteen  hundred  pounds  sterling.  The  pre- 
ventive regimen  of  the  one  country  does 
more  than  the  positive  applications  of  the 
other.  In  England,  they  have  suffered  po- 
verty to  rise  to  all  the  virulence  of  a  form- 
ed and  obstinate  disease.  But  they  may  as 
well  think  of  arresting  the  destructive  pro- 
gress of  a  torrent  by  throwing  across  an 
embankment,  as  think  that  the  mere  posi- 
tive administration  of  relief,  will  put  a  stop 
to  the  accumulating  mischiefs  of  poverty. 

11.  The  exemption  of  Scotland  from  the 
miseries  of  pauperism  is  due  to  the  educa- 
tion which  their  people  receive  at  schools, 
and  to  the  Bible  which  their  scholarship 
gives  them  access  to.  The  man  who  sub- 
scribes to  the  divine  authority  of  this  sim- 
ple saying,  "  If  any  would  not  work  nei- 
ther should  he  eat,"  possesses,  in  the  good 
treasure  of  his  own  heart,  a  far  more  effec- 
tual security  against  the  hardships  of  indi- 
gence, than  the  man  who  is  trained,  by  the 
legal  provisions  of  his  country,  to  sit  in 
slothful  dependence  upon  the  liberalities  of 
those  around  him.  It  is  easy  to  be  elo- 
quent i:i  the  praise  of  those  liberalities,  but 
the  truth  is.  that  they  may  be  carried  to 
the  mischievous  extent  of  forming  a  de- 
praved and  beggarly  population.  The  bun 
gry  expectations  of  the  poor  will  ever  keep 
pace  with  the  assessments  of  the  wealthy, 
and  their  eye  will  be  averted  from  the  ex- 
ertion of  their  own  industry,  as  the  only  right 
source  of  comfort  and  independence.  It  is 
quite  in  vain  to  think,  that  positive  relief  will 
ever  do  away  the  wretchedness  of  poverty. 
Carry  the  relief  beyond  a  certain  limit,  and 


you  foster  the  diseased  principle  which  gives 
birth  to  poverty.  On  this  subject,  the  people 
of  England  feel  themselves  to  be  in  a  state 
of  almost  inextricable  helplessness,  and  they 
are  not  without  their  fears  of  some  mighty 
convulsion,  which  must  come  upon  them 
with  all  the  energy  of  a  tempest,  before 
this  devouring  mischief  can  be  swept  away 
from  the  face  of  their  community. 

12.  If  any  thing  can  avert  this  calamity 
from  England,  it  will  be  the  education  of 
their  peasantry,  and  this  is  a  cause  to  which 
the  Bible  Society  is  contributing  its  full 
share  of  influence.  A  zeal  for  the  circula- 
tion of  the  Bible,  is  inseparable  from  a  zeal 
for  extending  among  the  people  the  capa- 
city of  reading  it ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  con- 
ceived, that  the  very  same  individual  can  be 
eager  for  the  introduction  of  this  volume 
into  our  cottages,  and  sit  inactive  under  the 
galling  reflection,  that  it  is  still  a  sealed 
book  to  many  thousands  of  the  occupiers. 
Accordingly  we  find,  that  the  two  concerns 
are  keeping  pace  with  one  another.  The 
Bible  Society  does  not  overstep  the  simpli- 
city of  its  assigned  object:  but  the  mem- 
bers of  that  Society  receive  an  impulse 
from  the  cause,  which  carries  them  to  pro- 
mote the  education  of  the  poor,  either  by 
their  individual  exertions,  or  by  giving 
their  support  to  the  Society  for  Schools. 
The  two  Societies  move  in  concert.  Each 
contributes  an  essential  element  in  the  busi- 
ness of  enlightening  the  people.  The  one 
furnishes  the  book  of  knowledge,  and  the 
other  furnishes  the  key  to  it.  This  division 
of  employment,  as  in  every  other  instance, 
facilitates  the  work,  and  renders  it  more  ef- 
fective. But  it  does  not  hinder  the  same  indi- 
vidual from  giving  his  countenance  to  both  ; 
and  sure  I  am,  that  the  man  whose  feelings 
have  been  already  warmed,  and  whose  purse 
has  been  already  drawn  in  behalf  of  the  one, 
is  a  likelier  subject  for  an  application  in  behalf 
of  the  other,  than  he  whose  money  is  still  un- 
touched, but  whose  heart  is  untouched  also. 

13.  It  will  be  seen,  then,  that  the  Bible 
Society  is  not  barely  defensible,  but  may  be 
plead  for  upon  that  very  ground  on  which 
its  enemies  have  raised  their  opposition  to 
it.  Its  immediate  object  is  neither  to  feed 
the  hungry  nor  to  clothe  the  naked,  but  in 
every  country  under  the  benefit  of  its  ex- 
ertions, there  will  be  less  hunger  to  feed, 
and  less  nakedness  to  clothe.  It  does  not 
cure  actual  poverty,  but  it  anticipates  event- 
ful poverty.  It  aims  its  decisive  thrust  at 
the  heart  and  principle  of  the  mischief,  and 
instead  of  suffering  it  to  form  into  the 
obstinacy  of  an  inextirpable  disease,  it 
smothers  and  destroys  it  in  the  infancy  of 
its  first  elements.  The  love  which  worketh 
no  ill  to  his  neighbour  will  not  suffer  the 
true  Christian  to  live  in  idleness  upon  an- 
other's bounty;  and  he  will  do  as  Paul  did 
before  him,  he  will  labour  with  his  hands 


214 


INFLUENCE  OF  BIBLE  SOCIETIES, 


rather  than  be  burdensome.  Could  we  re- 
form the  improvident  habits  of  the  people, 
and  pour  the  healthful  infusion  of  Scrip- 
ture principle  into  their  hearts,  it  would 
reduce  the  existing  poverty  of  the  land  to  a 
very  humble  fraction  of  its  present  extent. 
We  make  bold  to  say,  that  in  ordinary 
times  there  is  not  one-tenth  of  the  pauper- 
ism of  England  due  to  unavoidable  misfor- 
tune. It  has  grown  out  of  a  vicious  and 
impolitic  system,  and  the  millions  which 
are  raised  every  year  have  only  served  to 
nourish  and  extend  it.  Now,  the  Bible  So- 
ciety is  a  prime  agent  in  the  work  of  coun- 
teracting this  disorder.  Its  mode  of  pro- 
ceeding carries  in  it  all  the  cheapness  and 
all  the  superior  efficacy  of  a  preventive 
operation.  With  a  revenue  not  equal  to 
the  poor-rates  of  many  a  county,  it  is  do- 
ing more  even  for  the  secular  interests  of 
the  poor  than  all  the  charities  of  England 
united  ;  and  while  a  palling  and  injudicious 
sympathy  is  pouring  out  its  complaints 
against  it,  it  is  sowing  the  seeds  of  charac- 
ter and  independence,  and  rearing  for  fu- 
ture days  the  spectacle  of  a  thriving,  sub- 
stantial, and  well-conditioned  peasantry. 

14.  I  have  hitherto  been  supposing,  that 
the  rich  only  are  the  givers,  but  I  now  call 
on  the  poor  to  be  sharers  in  this  work  of 
charity.  It  is  true,  that  of  these  poor  there 
are  some  who  depend  on  charity  for  their 
subsistence,  and  these  have  no  right  to  give 
Avhat  they  receive  from  others.  And  there 
are  some  who  have  not  arrived  at  this  state 
of  dependence,  but  are  on  the  very  verge 
of  it.  Let  us  keep  back  no  part  of  the  truth 
from  them,  "  If  any  provide  not  for  his 
own,  and  specially  for  those  of  his  own 
house,  he  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is 
worse  than  an  infidel."  There  are  others 
again,  and  these  I  apprehend  form  by  far 
the  most  numerous  class  of  society,  who 
can  maintain  themselves  in  humble,  but 
honest  independence,  who  can  spare  a  little 
and  not  feel  it,  who  can  do  what  Paul  ad- 
vises,* lay  aside  their  penny  a  week  as  God 
hath  prospered  them,  who  can  share  that 
blessedness  which  the  Saviour  spoke  of 
when  he  said,  It  was  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive ;  who,  though  they  cannot 
equal  their  rich  neighbours  in  the  amount 
of  their  donation,  can  bestow  their  some- 
thing, and  can,  at  all  events,  carry  in  their 
bosom  a  heart  as  warm  to  the  cause,  and 
call  down  as  precious  a  blessing  from  the 
God  who  witnesses  it.  The  Bible  Society 
is  opposed  on  the  ground  of  its  diverting  a 
portion  of  relief  from  the  secular  necessi- 
ties of  the  poor,  even  when  the  rich  only 
are  called  upon  to  support  it.  When  the 
application  for  support  is  brought  down 
to  the  poor  themselves,  and  instead  of  the 
recipients,  it  is  proposed  to  make  them  the 


*  1  Corinthians  xvi.  2. 


dispensers  of  charity,  we  may  lay  our  ac- 
count with  the  opposition  being  still  more 
clamorous. — We  undertake  to  prove,  that 
this  opposition  is  founded  on  a  fallacy,  and 
that,  by  interesting  the  great  mass  of  a  pa- 
rish in  the  Bible  Society,  and  assembling 
them  into  a  penny  association  for  the  sup- 
port of  it,  you  raise  a  defence  against  the 
extension  of  pauperism. 

15.  We  feel  a  difficulty  in  this  undertak- 
ing, not  from  any  uncertainty  which  hangs 
over  the  principle,  but  from  the  difficulty  of 
bringing  forward  a  plain  and  popular  exhi- 
bition of  it.  However  familiar  the  princi- 
ple may  be  to  a  student  of  political  science, 
it  carries  in  it  an  air  of  paradox  to  the  mul- 
titude, and  it  were  well  if  this  air  of  paradox 
were  the  only  obstacle  to  its  reception.  But 
to  the  children  of  poesy  and  fine  sentiment 
the  principle  in  question  carries  in  it  an  air 
of  barbarity  also,  and  all  the  rigour  of  a  pure 
and  impregnable  argument  has  not  been 
able  to  protect  the  conclusions  of  Malthus 
from  their  clamorous  indignation.  There  is 
a  kind  of  hurrying  sensibility  about  them 
which  allows  neither  time  nor  temper  for 
listening  to  any  calculation  on  the  subject, 
and  there  is  not  a  more  striking  vanity 
under  the  sun,  than  that  the  substantial  in- 
terests of  the  poor  have  suffered  less  from 
the  malignant  and  the  unfeeling,  than  from 
those  who  give  without  wisdom,  and  who 
feel  without  consideration ; 

Blessed  is  he  that  wisely  doth 
The  poor  man's  case  consider. 

16.  Let  me  put  the  case  of  two  parishes, 
in  the  one  of  which  there  is  a  known  and 
public  endowment,  out  of  which  an  annual 
sum  is  furnished  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
poor ;  and  that  in  the  other  there  is  no  such 
endowment.  At  the  outset,  the  poor  of  the 
first  parish  may  be  kept  in  greater  comfort 
than  the  poor  of  the  second ;  but  it  is  the 
lesson  of  all  experience,  that  no  annual  sum, 
however  great,  will  be  able  to  keep  them 
permanently  in  greater  comfort.  The  cer- 
tain effect  of  an  established  provision  for  the 
poor  is  a  relaxation  of  their  economical 
habits,  and  an  increased  number  of  improvi- 
dent marriages.  When  their  claim  to  a 
provision  is  known,  that  claim  is  always 
counted  upon,  and  it  were  well,  if  to  flatter 
their  natural  indolence,  they  did  not  carry 
the  calculation  beyond  the  actual  benefit 
they  can  ever  receive.  But  this  is  what  they 
always  do.  When  a  public  charity  is  known 
and  counted  upon,  the  relaxation  of  frugal 
and  provident  habits  is  carried  to  such  an  ex- 
tent, as  not  only  to  absorb  the  whole  produce 
of  the  charity,  but  to  leave  new  wants  unpro- 
vided for,  and  the  effect  of  the  benevolent  in 
stitution  is  just  to  create  a  population  more 
wretched  and  more  clamorous  than  ever. 

17.  In  the  second  parish,  the  economical 
habits  of  the  people  are  kept  unimpaired. 


INFLUENCE  OF  BIBLE  SOCIETIES. 


21; 


and  just  because  their  economy  is  forced  to 
take  a  higher  aim,  and  to  persevere  in  it. 
The  aim  of  the  first  people  is  to  provide  for 
themselves  a  part  of  their  maintenance  : 
Tiie  aim  of  the  second  people  is  to  provide 
for  themselves  their  whole  maintenance. 
We  do  not  deny,  that  even  among  the  latter 
we  will  meet  with  distress  and  poverty,  just 
such  distress  and  such  poverty  as  are  to  be 
found  in  the  average  of  Scottisli  parishes. 
This  finds  its  alleviation  in  private  benevo- 
lence. To  alleviate  poverty  is  all  that  can 
be  done  for  it;  to  extinguish  it,  we  fear  is 
hopeless.  Sure  we  are,  that  the  known  and 
regular  provisions  of  England  will  never 
extinguish  it,  and  that,  in  respect  of  the 
poor  themselves,  the  second  parish  is  under 
a  better  system  than  the  first.  The  poor- 
rates  are  liable  to  many  exceptions,  but  there 
is  none  of  them  more  decisive  with  him 
who  cans  for  the  eternity  of  the  poor,  than 
the  temptation  they  hold  out  to  positive 
guilt,  the  guilt  of  not  working  with  their 
own  hands,  and  so  becoming  burdensome 
to  others.* 

18.  Let  us  conceive  a  political  change  in 
the  circumstances  of  the  country,  and  that 
the  public  charity  of  the  first  parish  fell 
among  the  ruin  of  other  institutions.  Then 
its  malignant  influence  would  be  felt  in 
all  its  extent ;  and  it  would  be  seen,  that  it, 
in  fact,  had  impoverished  those  whom  it 
professed  to  sustain,  that  it  had  stript  them 
of  a  possession  far  more  valuable  than  all 
it  had  ever  given,  that  it  had  stripped  them 
of  industrious  habits,  and  left  those  whom 
its  influence  never  reached,  wealthier  in  the 
resources  of  their  own  superior  industry, 
than  the  artificial  provisions  of  an  unwise 
and  meddling  benevolence  could  ever  make 
them. 

19.  The  comparison  between  these  two 
parishes  paves  the  way  for  another  compari- 
son. Lei  me  now  put  the  case  of  a  third 
parish,  where  a  Bible  Association  is  insti- 
tuted, and  where  the  simple  regulation  of  a 
penny  a  week,  throws  it  open  to  the  bulk 
of  the  people.  What  effect  has  this  upon 
their  economical  habits  ?  It  just  throws 
them  at  a  greater  distance  from  the  thrift- 
lessness  which  prevails  in  the  first  parish, 
and  leads  them  to  strike  a  higher  aim  in 
the  way  of  economy  than  the  people  of  the 
second.  The  general  aim  of  economy  in 
humble  life,  is  to  keep  even  with  the  world; 
but  it  is  known  to  every  man  at  all  familiar 
with  that  class  of  society,  that  the  great 
majority  may  strike  their  aim  a  little  higher, 
and  in  point  of  fact,  have  it  in  their  power 
to  redeem  an  annual  sum  from  the  mere 
squanderings  of  mismanagement  and  care- 
lessness. The  unwise  provisions  ill  the  pa- 
rish have  had  the  effect  of  sinking  the  in- 
come of  the  poor  below  their   habits  of 


*  Acts  xx.  35.  1  Tim.  v.  8. 


expenditure,  and  they  are  brought,  perrha 
nently  and  irrecoverably  brought  into  a 
state  of  pauperism.  In  the  second  parish, 
the  income,  generally  speaking,  is  even  with 
the  habits  of  expenditure.  In  the  third,  the 
income  is  ubove  the  habits  of  expenditure, 
and  above  it  by  the  annual  sum  contributed 
to  the  Bible  Society.  The  circumstance  of 
being  members  to  such  a  Society,  throws 
them  at  a  greater  distance  from  pauperism 
than  if  they  had  not  been  members  of  it. 

20.  The  effect  on  the  economical  habits 
of  the  people  would  just  be  the  same  in 
whatever  way  the  stated  annual  sum  was 
obtained  from  them,  even  though  a  com- 
pulsory tax  were  the  instrument  of  raising 
it.*  This  assimilation  of  our  plan  to  a  tax 
may  give  rise  to  a  world  of  impetuous  de- 
clamation, but  let  it  ever  be  remembered, 
that  the  institution  of  a  Bible  Society  gives 
you  the  whole  benefit  of  such  a  tax  without 
its  odiousness.  It  brings  up  their  economy 
to  a  higher  pitch,  but  it  does  so,  not  in  the 
way  which  they  resist,  but  in  the  way  which 
they  choose.  The  single  circumstance  of 
its  being  a  voluntary  act,  forms  the  defence 
and  the  answer  to  all  the  clamours  of  an 
affected  sympathy.  You  take  from  the  poor. 
No!  they  give.  You  take  beyond  their  abil- 
ity. Of  this  they  are  the  best  judges.  You 
abridge  their  comforts.  ]So !  there  is  a  com- 
fort in  the  exercise  of  charity ;  there  is  a 
comfort  in  the  act  of  lending  a  hand  to  a 
noble  enterprise;  there  is  a  comfort  in  the 
contemplation  of  its  progress;  there  is  a 
comfort  in  rendering  a  service  to  a  friend, 
and  when  that  friend  is  the  Saviour,  and 
that  service  the  circulation  of  the  message 
he  left  behind  him,  it  is  a  comfort  which 
many  of  the  poor  are  ambitious  to  share  in. 
Leave  them  to  judge  of  their  comfort,  and 
if  in  point  of  fact,  they  do  give  their  penny 
a  week  to  a  Bible  Society,  it  just  speaks 
them  to  have  more  comfort  in  this  way  of 
spending  it  than  in  any  other  which  occurs 
to  them. 

21.  Perhaps  it  does  not  occur  to  those 
friends  of  the  poor  while  they  are  sitting  in 
judgment  on  their  circumstances  and  feel- 
ings, how  unjustly  and  how  unworthily 
they  think  of  them.  They  do  not  conceive 
how  truth  and  benevolence  can  be  at  all 
objects  to  them,  and  suppose,  that  after  they 
have  got  the  meat  to  U'V{\,  the  house  to 
shelter,  the  raiment  to  cover  them,  there  is 
nothing  else  that  they  will  bestow  a  penny 
upon.  They  may  not  be  able  to  express 
their  feelings  on  a  suspicion  so  ungenerous, 
but  I  shall  do  it  for  them ;  "  We  have  souls 
as  well  as  you,  and  precious  to  our  hearts 
is  the  Saviour  who  died  for  them.    It  is  true 


*  I  must  here  suppose  the  sum  to  bo  a  stated 
one,  and  a  feeling  of  security  on  the  part  of  tin* 
people,  that  the  tax  shall  not  be  subject  to  varia- 
tion at  the  caprice  of  an  arbitrary  government. 


216 


INFLUENCE  OF  BIBLE  SOCIETIES. 


we  have  our  distresses,  but  these  have  bound 
us  more  firmly  to  our  Bibles,  and  it  is  the 
desire  of  our  hearts,  that  a  gift  so  precious, 
should  be  sent  to  the  poor  of  other  coun- 
tries. The  word  of  God  is  our  hope  and  our 
rejoicing;  we  desire  that  it  may  be  theirs 
also,  that  the  wandering  savage  may  know 
it  and  be  glad,  and  the  poor  negro,  under 
the  lash  of  his  master,  may  be  told  of  a 
Master  in  heaven  who  is  full  of  pity,  and 
full  of  kindness.  Do  you  think  that  sym- 
pathy for  such  as  these  is  your  peculiar  at- 
tribute ?  Know  that  our  hearts  are  made 
of  the  same  materials  with  your  own,  that 
we  can  feel  as  well  as  you,  and  out  of  the 
earnings  of  a  hard  and  honest  industry,  we 
shall  give  an  offering  to  the  cause;  nor  shall 
we  cease  our  exertions  till  the  message  of 
salvation  be  carried  round  the  globe,  and 
made  known  to  the  countless  millions  who 
live  in  guilt,  and  who  die  in  darkness." 

22.  And  here  it  is  obvious  that  a  superior 
habit  of  economy  is  not  the  only  defence 
which  the  Bible  Society  raises  against  pau- 
perism. The  smallness  of  the  sum  contri- 
buted may  give  a  littleness  to  this  argu- 
ment, but  not,  let  it  be  remembered,  without 
giving  an  equal  littleness  to  the  objection 
of  those  who  declaim  against  the  institution, 
on  the  ground  of  its  oppressiveness  to  the 
poor  contributors.  The  great  defence  which 
such  a  Society  establishes  against  pauper- 
ism, is  the  superior  tone  of  dignity  and  in- 
dependence which  it  imparts  to  the  charac- 
ter of  him  who  supports  it.  He  stands  on 
the  high  ground  of  being  a  dispenser  of 
charity  ;  and  before  he  can  submit  to  be- 
come a  recipient  of  charity,  he  must  let 
himself  farther  down  than  a  poor  man  in 
ordinary  circumstances.  To  him  the  transi- 
tion will  be  more  violent,  and  the  value  of 
this  principle  will  be  acknowledged  by  all 
who  perceive  that  it  is  reluctance  on  the 
part  of  the  poor  man  to  become  a  pauper, 
which  forms  the  mighty  barrier  against  the 
extension  of  pauperism.  A  man  by  becom- 
ing the  member  of  a  benevolent  association, 
puts  himself  into  the  situation  of  a  giver. 
He  stands  at  a  greater  distance  than  before 
from  the  situation  of  a  receiver.  He  has  a 
wider  interval  to  traverse  before  he  can 
reach  this  point.  He  will  feel  it  a  greater 
degradation,  and  to  save  himself  from  it, 
he  will  put  forth  all  his  powers  of  frugality 
and  exertion.  The  idea  of  restraining  pau- 
perism by  external  administrations,  seems 
now  to  be  generally  abandoned.  But  could 
we  thus  enter  into  the  hearts  of  the  poor, 
we  could  get  in  at  the  root  of  the  mischief, 
and  by  fixing  there  a  habit  of  economy  and 
independence,  more  would  be  done  for 
them,  than  by  all  the  liberalities  of  all  the 
opulent. 

23.  In  those  districts  of  Scotland  where 
poor-rates  are  unknown,  the  descending 
avenue  which  leads  to  pauperism  is  power- 


fully guarded  by  the  stigma  which  attaches 
to  it.  Remove  this  stigma,  and  our  cottages, 
now  rich  in  the  possession  of  contentment 
and  industry,  would  resign  their  habits,  and 
crowd  into  the  avenue  by  thousands.  The 
shame  of  descending,  is  the  powerful  stimu- 
lus which  urges  them  to  contest  it  manfully 
with  the  difficulties  of  their  situation,  and 
which  bears  them  through  in  all  the  pride 
of  honest  independence.  Talk  of  this  to 
the  people  of  the  South,  and  it  sounds  in 
their  ears  like  an  Arcadian  story.  But  there 
is  not  a  clergyman  among  us  who  has  not 
witnessed  the  operation  of  the  principle  in 
all  its  fineness,  and  in  all  its  moral  delicacy ; 
and  surely  a  testimony  is  due  to  those  vil- 
lage heroes  who  so  nobly  struggle  with  the 
difficulties  of  pauperism,  that  they  may  shun 
and  surmount  its  degradation. 

24.  A  Bible  Association  gives  additional 
vigour  and  buoyancy  to  this  elevated  prin- 
ciple. The  trifle  which  it  exacts  from  its 
contributor  is  in  truth  never  missed  by  him, 
but  it  puts  him  in  the  high  attitude  of  a 
giver,  and  every  feeling  which  it  inspires, 
is  on  the  side  of  independence  and  delicacy. 
Go  over  each  of  these  feelings  separately, 
and  you  find  that  they  are  all  fitted  to  for- 
tify his  dislike  at  the  shame  and  dependence 
of  pauperism.  There  is  a  consciousness  of 
importance  which  unavoidably  attaches  to 
the  share  he  has  taken  in  the  support  and 
direction  of  a  public  charity.  There  is  the 
expanding  effect  of  the  information  which 
comes  to  him  through  me  medium  of  the  cir- 
culated reports,  which  lays  before  him  the 
mighty  progressof  an  institution  reaching  to 
all  countries,  and  embracing  in  its  ample 
grasp,  the  men  of  all  latitudes  and  all  lan- 
guages, which  deeply  interests  him  in  the  ob- 
ject, and  perpetuates  his  desire  of  promoting 
it.  A  man  with  his  heart  so  occupied,  and  his 
attention  so  directed,  is  not  capable  of  a  vo- 
luntary descent  to  pauperism.  He  has  in  fact 
become  a  more  cultivated  and  intellectual 
being  than  formerly.  His  mind  gathers  an 
enlargement  from  the  wide  and  animating 
contemplations  which  are  set  before  him, 
and  we  appeal  to  the  reflection  of  every 
reader,  if  such  a  man  will  descend  as  rea- 
dily to  a  dependence  on  the  charity  of 
others,  as  he  whose  mind  is  void  of  informa- 
tion, and  whose  feelings  are  void  of  dignity. 

25.  In  such  associations,  the  rich  and  the 
poor  meet  together.  They  share  in  one  ob- 
ject, and  are  united  by  the  sympathy  of 
one  feeling  and  of  one  interest.  We  have  not 
to  look  far  into  human  nature  to  be  con- 
vinced of  the  happy  and  the  harmonizing 
influence  which  this  must  have  upon  so- 
ciety, and  how,  in  the  glow  of  one  common 
cordiality,  all  asperity  and  discontent  must 
give  way  to  the  kindlier  principles  of  our 
nature.  The  days  have  been,  when  the  very 
name  of  an  association  carried  terror  and 
suspicion  along  with  it. — In  a  Bible  Asso- 


INFLUENCE  OF  BIBLE  SOCIETIES. 


217 


ciation  there  is  nothing  which  our  rulers 
need  to  be  afraid  of,  and  they  may  rest  as- 
sured, that  the  moral  influence  of  such  in- 

'stitutions  is  all  on  the  side  of  peace  and 
loyalty.  But  to  confine  myself  to  the  pre- 
sent argument.    Who  does  not  see  that  they 

.  exalt  the  general  tone  and  character  of  our 
people,  that  they  bring  them  nearer  to  the 
dignity  of  superior  and  cultivated  life,  and 
that  therefore,  though  their  direct  aim  is 
not  to  mitigate  poverty,  they  go  a  certain 
way  to  dry  up  the  most  abundant  of  its 
sources. 

26.  Let  me  add,  that  the  direct  influence 
of  the  Bible  principles  is  inseparable  from 
a  zeal  for  the  circulation  of  the  Bible.  It 
is  not  to  be  conceived,  that  anxiety  for 
sending  it  to  others  can  exist,  while  there  is 
no  reverence  for  it  among  ourselves,  and 
we  appeal  to  those  districts  where  such  as- 
sociations have  been  formed,  if  a  more  visi- 
ble attention  to  the  Bible,  and  a  more  se- 
rious impression  of  its  authority,  is  not  the 
consequence  of  them.  Now,  the  lessons 
of  this  Bible  are  all  on  the  side  of  industry. 
They  tell  us  that  it  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive,  and  that  therefore,  a  man 
who,  by  his  own  voluntary  idleness,  is 
brought  under  the  necessiiy  of  receiving, 
has  disinherited  himself  of  a  blessing.  The 
poor  must  have  bread,  but  the  Bible  com- 
mands and  exhorts,  that  wherever  it  is  pos- 
sible, that  bread  should  be  their  own,  and 
that  all  who  are  able  should  make  it  their 
own  by  working  for  it.*  No  precept  can 
be  devised  which  bears  more  directly  on  the 
source  of  pauperism.  The  minister  who, 
in  his  faithful  exposition  of  the  Bible,  urged 
this  precept  successfully  upon  his  people, 
would  do  much  to  extinguish  pauperism 
among  them.  It  is  true  that  he  does  not 
always  urge  successfully ;  but  surely  if  suc- 
cess is  to  be  more  looked  for  in  one  quarter 
than  in  another,  it  is  among  the  pious  and 
intelligent  peasantry  whom  he  has  assem- 
bled around  him,  whom  he  has  formed  into 
a  little  society  for  the  circulation  of  the  Bi- 
ble, and  whose  feelings  he  has  interested 
in  this  purest  and  worthiest  of  causes. 

27.  Nor  is  the  operation  of  this  principle 
confined  to  the  actual  contributor.  We 
have  no  doubt  that  it  has  been  beautifully 
exemplified  even  among  those  who,  unable 
to  give  their  penny  a  week,  either  stand  on 
the  very  verge  of  pauperism,  or  have  got 
within  its  limits.  They  are  unable  to  give 
any  thing  of  their  own,  but  they  may  be 
able  at  the  same  time  to  forego  the  wonted 
allowance  which  they  received  from  ano- 
ther, or  a  part  of  it.  The  refusals  of  the 
poor  to  take  an  offered  charity,  or  the 
whole  amount  of  the  offer,  are  quite  familiar 
lo  a  Scottish  clergyman;  and  the  plea  on 
which  they  set  the  refusal,  that  it  would  be 

*  2  Thessalonians  ill.  12. 
28 


taking  from  others  who  are  even  needier 
than  they,  entitles  them,  when  honestly  ad- 
vanced, to  all  the  praise  of  benevolence. 
A  spirit  of  pious  attachment  to  the  Bible 
would  prompt  a  refusal  of  the  same  kind. 
You  have  other  and  higher  claims  upon 
you;  you  have  the  spiritual  necessities  of 
the  world  to  provide  for,  and  that  you  may 
be  the  more  able  to  make  the  provision, 
leave  me  to  the  frugality  of  my  own  ma- 
nagement. In  this  way  the  principle  de- 
scends, and  carries  its  healthful  influence 
into  the  very  regions  of  pauperism.  It  is 
the  only  principle  competent  to  its  extirpa- 
tion. The  obvious  expedient  of  a  positive 
supply  to  meet  the  wants  of  existing  pover 
ty,  has  failed,  and  the  poor-rates  of  Eng 
land  will  ever  be  a  standing  testimony  to 
the  utter  inefficiency  of  this  expedient, 
which,  instead  of  killing  the  disease,  has 
rooted  and  confirmed  it.  Try  the  other 
expedient  then.  The  remedy  against  the 
extension  of  pauperism  does  not  lie  in  the 
liberalities  of  the  rich.  It  lies  in  the  hearts 
and  habits  of  the  poor.  Plant  in  their  bo- 
soms a  principle  of  independence.  Give  a 
higher  tone  of  delicacy  to  their  characters. 
Teach  them  to  recoil  from  pauperism  as  a 
degradation.  The  degradation  may,  at 
times,  be  unavoidable  ;  but  the  thing  which 
gives  such  an  alarming  extent  to  the  mis- 
chief, is  the  debasing  influence  of  poor-rates, 
whereby,  in  the  vast  majority  of  instances, 
the  degradation  is  voluntary.  But  if  there 
be  an  exalting  influence  in  Bible  Assccia- 
tions  to  counteract  this,  if  they  foster  a  right 
spirit  of  importance;  above  all,  if  they  se- 
cure a  readier  submission  to  the  lessons  of 
the  volume  which  they  are  designed  to  cir- 
culate, who  does  not  see,  that,  in  proportion 
as  they  are  multiplied  and  extended  over 
the  face  of  the  country,  they  carry  along 
with  them  the  most  effectual  regimen  for 
preventing  the  extension  of  poverty. 

28.  And  here  it  may  be  asked,  if  it  be  at 
all  likely  that  these  Associations  will  ex- 
tend to  such  a  degree  as  to  have  a  sensible 
influence  upon  the  habits  of  the  country  1 
Nothing  more  likely.  A  single  individual 
of  influence  in  each  parish,  would  make  the 
system  universal.  In  point  of  fact,  it  is 
making  progress  every  month,  and  such  is 
the  wonderful  spirit  of  exertion  which  is 
now  abroad,  that  in  a  few  years  every  little 
district  of  the  land  may  become  the  seat  of  a 
Bible  Society.  We  are  now  upon  the  dawn 
of  very  high  anticipations,  and  the  whole- 
some effect  upon  the  habits  and  principles 
of  the  people  at  home,  is  not  the  least  of 
them.  That  part  of  the  controversy  which 
relates  to  the  direct  merits  of  the  Bible  So- 
ciety may  be  looked  upon  as  already  ex- 
hausted;* and  could  the  objection,  founded 


*  See  Dealtry's  pamphlets.     Leticr  from  the 
late  Dr.  Murray,  professor  of  Hebrew  in  the  Uni- 


218 


INFLUENCE  OF  BIBLE  SOCIETIES. 


on  its  interference  with  the  relief  of  the  poor, 
be  annihilated,  or  still  more,  could  it  be  con- 
verted into  a  positive  argument  in  its  behalf 
we  are  not  aware  of  a  single  remaining 
plea  upon  which  a  rational  or  benevolent 
man  can  refuse  his  concurrence  to  it. 

29.  And  the  plea  of  conceived  injury  to  the 
poor  deserves  to  be  attended  to.  It  wears 
an  amiable  complexion,  and  we  believe,  that 
in  some  instances,  a  real  sympathy  with 
their  distresses,  lies  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Let 
sympathy  be  guided  by  consideration.  It 
is  the  part  of  a  Christian  to  hail  benevo- 
lence in  all  its  forms ;  but  when  a  plan  is 
started  for  the  relief  of  the  destitute,  is  he 
to  be  the  victim  of  a  popular  and  sentimen- 
tal indignation,  because  he  ventures  to  take 
up  the  question  whether  the  plan  be  really 
an  effective  one  ?  We  know  that  in  various 
towns  of  Scotland  you  meet  with  two  dis- 
tinct Penny  Societies,  one  a  Bible  Associa- 
tion, the  other  for  the  relief  of  the  indigent. 
It  is  to  be  regretted  that  there  should  ever 
be  any  jealousy  between  them,  but  we  be- 
lieve, that  agreeably  to  what  we  have  al- 
ready said,  it  will  often  be  found  that  the 
one  suggested  the  other,  and  that  the  sup- 
porters of  the  former,  are  the  most  zealous, 
and  active,  and  useful  friends  of  the  latter. 
We  cannot,  however,  suppress  the  fact,  that 
there  is  now  a  growing  apprehension  lest 
the  growth  of  the  latter  Societies  should 
break  down  the  delicacies  of  the  lower  or- 
ders, and  pave  the  way  for  a  permanent 
introduction  of  poor-rates.  There  is  a 
pretty  general  impression,  that  the  system 
may  be  carried  too  far,  and  the  uncertainty 
as  to  the  precise  limit  has  given  the  feeling 
to  many  who  have  embarked  with  enthu- 
siasm, that  they  are  now  engaged  in  a  tick- 
lish and  questionable  undertaking.  I  do 
not  attempt  either  to  confirm  or  to  refute 
this  impression,  but  I  count  it  a  piece  of 
justice  to  the  associations  I  am  pleading 
for,  to  assert,  that  they  stand  completely 
free  of  every  such  exception.  The  Bible 
Society  is  making  steady  advances  towards 
the  attainment  of  its  object,  and  the  sure 
effect  of  multiplying  its  subscribers  istocon- 
duct  it  in  a  shorter  time  to  the  end  of  its  la- 
bours. A  Society  for  the  relief  of  tempo- 
ral necessities  is  grasping  at  an  object  that 
is  completely  unattainable,  and  the  mischief 
is,  that  the  more  known,  and  the  more  ex- 
tensive, and  the  more  able  it  becomes,  it  is 
sure  to  be  more  counted  on,  and  at  last,  to 
create  more  poverty  than  it  provides  for. 
The  Bible  Society  aims  at  making  every 


versity  of  Edinburgh,  to  Dr.  Charles  Stuart. 
Steinkoff's  Tour  on  the  Continent.  Edinburgh 
Review,  vol.  xix.  p.  39 ;  and  above  all,  the  reports 
and  summaries  of  the  institution  itself,  where  you 
will  meet  with  a  cloud  of  testimonies  from  Mora- 
vians, Missionaries,  Roman  Catholics,  the  Literati 
of  our  chief  European  towns,  and  men  of  piety 
and  public  spirit  in  all  quarters  of  the  world. 


land  a  land  of  Bibles,  and  this  aim  it  will  ac 
complish  after  it  has  translated  the  Bible 
into  all  languages,  and  distributed  a  sample 
large  enough  to  create  a  native  and  univer-* 
sal  demand  for  them.*  After  the  people  of 
the  world  have  acquired  such  a  taste  for  the 
Bible,  and  such  a  sense  of  its  value  as  to  pur- 
chase it  for  themselves,  the  Society  termi- 
nates its  career,  and  instead  of  the  corrup- 
tions and  abuses  which  other  charities  scat- 
ter in  their  way,  it  leaves  the  poor  to  whom 
it  gives,  more  enlightened,  and  the  poor 
from  whom  it  takes,  more  elevated  than  it 
found  them. 

30.  '  Charity,'  says  Shakspeare,  '  is  twice 
blest.  It  blesses  him  who  gives,  and  him 
who  takes.'  This  is  far  from  being  univer- 
sally true.  There  is  a  blessing  annexed  to 
the  heart  which  deviseth  liberal  things. 
Perhaps  the  founder  of  the  English  poor- 
rates  acquired  this  blessing,  but  the  indo- 
lence and  depravity  which  they  have  been 
the  instruments  of  spreading  over  the  face 
of  the  country,  are  incalculable.  If  we 
wish  to  see  the  assertion  of  the  poet  realised 
in  its  full  extent,  go  to  such  a  charity  as  we 
are  now  pleading  for,  where  the  very  exer- 
cise of  giving  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  in- 
struction received  on  the  other,  have  the 
effect  of  narrowing  the  limits  of  pauperism, 
by  creating  a  more  virtuous  and  dignified 
population. 

31.  There  is  poverty  to  be  met  with  in 
every  land,  and  we  are  ready  to  admit,  that 
a  certain  proportion  of  it  is  due  to  unavoid- 
able misfortune.  But  it  is  no  less  true,  that  in 
those  countries  where  there  is  a  known  and 
established  provision  for  the  necessities  of  the 
poor,  the  greater  proportion  of  the  poverty 
which  exists  in  them  is  due  to  the  debasing 
influence  of  a  public  charity  on  the  habits 
of  the  people.  The  institution  we  are 
pleading  for,  counteracts  this  influence.  It 
does  not  annihilate  all  poverty,  but  it  tends 
to  annihilate  the  greater  part  of  it.  It  ar- 
rests the  progress  of  the  many  who  were 
making  a  voluntary  descent  to  pauperism, 
and  it  leaves  none  to  be  provided  for  but 
the  few  who  have  honestly  struggled  against 
their  distresses,  and  have  struggled  in  vain. 

32.  And  how  shall  they  be  provided  for  ? 
You  may  erect  a  public  institution.  This, 
in  fact,  is  the  same  with  erecting  a  signal 
of  invitation,  and  the  voluntary  and  self- 
created  poor  will  rush  in,  to  the  exclusion 
of  those  modest  and  unobtrusive  poor  who 
are  the  genuine  objects  of  charity.  This  is 
the  never  failing  mischief  of  a  known  and 
established  provision,!  and  it  has  been  sadly 


*  But  this  native  demand  never  will  be  created 
without  the  exertion  of  Missionaries,  and  the 
above  reasoning  applies,  in  its  most  important 
parts,  to  Missionary  Associations.    See  Appendix. 

1  We  must  here  except  all  those  institutions, 
the  object  of  which  is  to  provide  for  involuntary 
distress,  such  as  hospitals,  and  dispensaries,  and 


APPENDIX. 


219 


exemplified  in  England.  The  only  method 
of  doing  away  the  mischief  is  to  confide 
the  relief  of  the  poor  to  individual  benevo- 
lence. This  draws  no  dependence  along 
with  it.  It  is  not  counted  upon  like  a  pub- 
lic and  proclaimed  charity.  It  brings  the 
claims  of  the  poor  under  the  discriminating 
eye  of  a  neighbour,  who  will  make  a  differ- 
ence between  a  case  of  genuine  helplessness, 
and  a  case  of  idleness  or  misconduct.  It 
turns  the  tide  of  benevolence  into  its  true 
channel,  and  it  will  ever  be  found,  that  un- 
der its  operation,  the  poverty  of  misfortune 
is  better  seen  to,  and  the  poverty  of  im- 
providence and  guilt  is  more  effectually 
prevented. 

33.  My  concluding  observation  then  is, 
that  the  extension  of  Bible  Societies,  while 
it  counteracts,  in  various  directions,  the 
mischief  of  poor-rates,  augments  that  prin- 
ciple of  individual  benevolence  which  is  the 
best  substitute  for  poor-rates.  You  add  to 
the  stock  of  individual  benevolence,  by  add- 
ing to  the  number  of  benevolent  individuals, 
and  this  is  the  genuine  effect  of  a  Bible  As- 


sociation. Or,  you  add  to  the  stock  of  in- 
dividual benevolence  in  a  country,  by  add- 
ing to  the  intensity  of  the  benevolent  prin- 
ciple, and  this  is  the  undoubted  tendency 
of  a  Bible  Association*  And  what  is  of 
mighty  importance  in  this  argument,  a  Bi- 
ble Association  not  only  awakens  the  be- 
nevolent principle,  but  it  enlightens  it.  It 
establishes  an  intercourse  between  the  va- 
rious orders  of  society,  and  on  no  former 
occasion  in  the  history  of  this  country,  have 
the  rich  and  the  poor  come  so  often  to- 
gether upon  a  footing  of  good  will.  The 
kindly  influence  of  this  is  incalculable.  It 
brings  the  poor  under  the  eye  of  their  richer 
neighbours.  The  visits  and  inquiries  con- 
nected with  the  objects  of  the  Bible  Society, 
bring  them  into  contact  with  one  another. 
The  rich  come  to  be  more  skilled  in  the 
wants  and  difficulties  of  the  poor,  and  by 
entering  their  houses,  and  joining  with 
them  in  conversation,  they  not  only  acquire 
a  benevolence  towards  them,  but  they  ga- 
ther that  knowledge  which  is  so  essential 
to  guide  and  enlighten  their  benevolence. 


APPENDIX. 


It  is  evident,  that  the  above  reasoning  applies, 
in  its  chief  parts,  to  benevolent  Associations,  in- 
stituted for  any  other  religious  purpose.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  restrict  the  argument  to  the  case 
of  Bible  Associations.  I  should  be  sorry  if  the 
Bible  Society  were  to  engross  the  religious  benevo- 
lence of  the  public,  and  if,  in  the  multiplication 
of  its  auxiliaries  over  the  face  of  the  country,  it 
were  to  occupy  the  whole  ground,  and  leave  no 
room  for  the  great  and  important  claims  of  other 
institutions. 

Of  this  I  conceive  that  there  is  little  danger. 
The  revenue  of  each  of  these  Societies  is  founded 
upon  voluntary  contrihutions,  and  what  is  volun- 
tary may  be  withdrawn  or  transferred  to  other  ob- 
jects. I  may  give  both  to  a  Bible  and  a  Mission- 
ary Societv,  or  if  I  can  only  afford  to  give  to  one, 
I  may  select  either,  according  to  my  impression  of 
their  respective  claims.  Inthiswaya  vigilant  and 
discerning  public  will  suit  its  benevolence  to  the 
urgency  of  the  case,  and  it  is  evident,  that  each 
institution  can  employ  the  same  methods  for  ob- 
taining patronage  and  support.  Each  can,  and 
does  bring  forward  a  yearly  statement  of  its  claims 
and  necessities.  Each  has  the  same  access  to  the 
public  through  the  medium  of  the  pulpit  or  the 
press.  Each  can  send  its  advocates  over  the  face 
of  the  country,  and  every  individual,  forming  his 


asylums  for  the  lunatic  or  the  blind.  A  man  may 
resign  himself  to  idleness,  and  become  wilfully  poor, 
that  he  may  eat  of  the  public  bread,  but  he  will 
not  become  wilfully  sick  or  maimed  that  he  may 
receive  medicines  from  a  dispensary,  or  undergo 
an  operation  in  a  hospital. 
*  Sec.  9. 


own  estimate  of  their  respective  claims,  will  ap- 
portion his  benevolence  accordingly. 

Now  what  is  done  by  an  individual,  may  be 
done  by  every  such  Association  as  I  am  now 
pleading  for.  Its  members  may  sit  in  judgment 
on  the  various  schemes  of  utility  which  are  now 
in  operation,  and  though  originally  formed  as  an 
auxiliary  to  the  Bible  Society,  it  may  keep  itself 
open  to  other  calls,  and  occasionally  give  of  its 
funds  to  Missionaries,  or  Moravians,  or  the  So- 
ciety for  Gaelic  Schools,  or  the  African  Institu- 
tion, or  to  the  Jewish,  and  Baptist,  and  Hibernian, 
and  Lancasterian  Societies. 

In  point  of  fact,  the  subordinate  Associations 
of  the  country  are  tending  towards  this  arrange- 
ment, and  it  is  a  highly  beneficial  arrangement.  It 
carries  in  it  a  most  salutary  control  over  all  these 
various  institutions,  each  labouring  to  maintain 
itself  in  reputation  with  the  public,  and  to  secure 
the  countenance  of  this  great  Patron.  Indolence 
and  corruption  may  lay  hold  of  an  endowed  cha- 
rity, but  when  the  charity  depends  upon  public 
favour,  a  few  glaring  examples  of  mismanagement 
would  annihilate  it. 

Durinc  a  few  of  the  first  years  of  the  Bible  So- 
ciety, the  members  of  other  Societies  were  alarmed 
at  the  rapid  extension  of  its  popularity,  and  ex- 
pressed their  fears  lest  it  should  engross  all  the 
attention  and  benevolence  of  the  religious  public. 
But  the  reverse  has  happened,  and  a  principle 
made  use  of  in  the  body  of  this  pamphlet  may  be 
well  illustrated  by  the  history  of  this  matter.  [Sec. 
9.J  The  Bible  Society  has  drawn  a  great  yearly 
sum  of  money  from  the  public,  and  the  first  im- 
pression was,  that  it  would  exhaust  the  fund  foi 
religious  charities.     But  while  it  drew  money  from 


220 


APPENDIX. 


the  hand,  it  sent  a  fresh  and  powerful  excitement 
of  Christian  benevolence  into  the  heart,  and  under 
the  influence  of  this  creative  principle,  the  fund 
has  extended  to  such  a  degree,  as  not  only  to  meet 
the  demands  of  the  new  Society,  but  to  yield  a 
more  abundant  revenue  to  the  older  Societies  than 
ever.  We  believe  that  the  excitement  goes  much 
farther  than  this,  and  that  many  a  deed  of  ordinary 
charity  could  be  traced  to  the  impulse  of  the  cause 
we  are  pleading  for.  We  hazard  the  assertion, 
that  many  thousands  of  those  who  contribute  to 
the  Bible  Society,  find  in  themselves  a  greater 
readiness  to  every  good  work,  since  the  period  of 
their  connexion  with  it,  and  that  in  the  wholesome 
channel  of  individual  benevolence,  more  hunger  is 
fed,  and  more  nakedness  clothed  throughout  the 
land,  than  at  any  period  anterior  to  the  formation 
of  our  Religious  Societies. 

The  alarm  grounded  upon  the  tendency  of 
these  Societies  with  their  vast  revenues,  to  im- 
poverish the  country,  is  ridiculous.  If  ever  their 
total  revenue  shall  amount  to  a  sum  which  can 
make  it  worthy  of  consideration  to  an  enlightened 
economist  at  all,  it  may  be  proved  that  it  trenches 
upon  no  national  interest  whatever,  that  it  leaves 
population  and  public  revenue  on  precisely  the 
same  footing  of  extent  and  prosperity  in  which  it 
found  them,  and  that  it  interferes  with  no  one  ob- 


ject which  patriot  or  politician  needs  to  care  for. 
In  the  mean  time  it  may  suffice  to  state,  that  the 
income  of  all  the  Bible  and  Missionary  Societies  in 
the  island,  would  not  do  more  than  defray  the  an- 
nual maintenance  of  one  ship  of  the  line.  When 
put  by  the  side  of  the  millions  which  are  lavished 
without  a  sigh  on  the  enterprises  of  war,  it  is 
nothing;  and  shall  this  veriest  trifle  be  grudged 
to  the  advancement  of  a  cause,  which,  when  car- 
ried to  its  accomplishment,  will  put  an  end  to  war, 
and  banish  all  its  passions  and  atrocities  from  the 
world? 

I  should  be  sorry  if  Penny  Associations  were  to 
bind  themselves  down  to  the  support  of  the  Bible 
Society.  I  should  like  to  see  thein  exercising  a 
judgment  over  the  numerous  claims  which  are 
now  before  the  public,  and  giving  occasionally  of 
their  funds  to  other  religious  institutions.  The 
effect  of  this  very  exercise  would  be  to  create  a 
liberal  and  well-informed  peasantry,  to  open  a  wider 
sphere  to  their  contemplations,  and  to  raise  the 
standard  not  merely  of  piety  but  of  general  intel- 
ligence among  them.  The  diminution  of  pau- 
perism is  only  part  of  the  general  effect  which  the 
multiplication  of  these  Societies  will  bring  about 
in  the  country ;  and  if  my  limits  allowed  me,  I 
might  expatiate  on  their  certain  influence  in  raising 
the  tone  and  character  of  the  British  population. 


A  SERMON 

PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  SOCIETY  IN  SCOTLAND, 

FOR 

PROPAGATING  CHRISTIAN  KNOWLEDGE. 

(incorporated  by  royal  charter,) 

AT  THEIR  ANNIVERSARY  MEETING,  IN  THE  HIGH  CHURCH  OF  EDINBURGH,  ON 
THURSDAY,  JUNE  2,  1814. 


'  And  Nathaniel  said  unto  him,  Can  there  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?     Philip  saith  unto  him, 

Come  and  see." — John  i.  46. 


The  principle  of  association,  however 
useful  in  the  main,  has  a  blinding  and  mis- 
leading effect  in  many  instances.  Give  it  a 
wide  enough  field  of  induction  to  work 
upon,  and  it  will  carry  you  to  a  right  con- 
clusion upon  any  one  case  or  question  that 
comes  before  you.  But  the  evil  is,  that  it 
often  carries  you  forward  with  as  much 
confidence  upon  a  limited,  as  upon  an  en- 
larged field  of  experience,  and  the  man  of 
narrow  views  will,  upon  a  few  paltry  indi- 
vidual recollections,  be  as  obstinate  in  the 
assertion  of  his  own  maxim,  and  as  boldly 
come  forward  with  his  own  sweeping  gene- 
rality, as  if  the  whole  range  of  nature  and 
observation  had  been  submitted  to  him. 

To  aggravate  the  mischief,  the  opinion 
thus  formed  upon  the  specialities  of  his 
own  limited  experience,  obtains  a  holding 
and  a  tenacity  in  his  mind,  which  dispose 
him  to  resist  all  the  future  facts  and  in- 
stances that  come  before  him.  Thus  it  is 
that  the  opinion  becomes  a  prejudice;  and 
that  no  statement,  however  true,  or  how- 
ever impressive,  will  be  able  to  dislodge  it. 
You  may  accumulate  facts  upon  facts,  but 
the  opinion  he  has  already  formed,  has  ac- 
quired a  certain  right  of  pre-occupancy 
over  him.  It  is  the  law  of  the  mind  which, 
like  the  similar  law  of  society,  often  carries 
it  over  the  original  principles  of  justice,  and 
it  is  litis  which  gives  so  strong  a  positive 
influence  to  error,  and  makes  its  overflow 
so  very  slow  and  laborious  an  operation. 

I  know  not  the  origin  of  the  prejudice  re- 
specting the  town  of  Nazareth ;  or  what  it 
was  that  gave  rise  to  an  aphorism  of  such 
sweeping  universality,  as  that  no  good  thing 
could  come  out  of  it.  Perhaps  in  two,  three, 
or  more  instances,  individuals  may  have 
come  out  of  it  who  threw  a  discredit  over 


the  place  of  their  nativity  by  the  profligacy 
of  their  actions.  Hence  an  association  be- 
tween the  very  name  of  the  town,  and  the 
villainy  of  its  inhabitants.  The  association 
forms  into  an  opinion.  The  opinion  is  em- 
bodied into  a  proverb,  and  is  transmitted  in 
the  shape  of  a  hereditary  prejudice  to  future 
generations.  It  is  likely  enough,  that  many 
instances  could  have  been  appealed  to,  of 
people  from  the  town  of  Nazareth,  who 
gave  evidence  in  their  characters  and  lives 
against  the  prejudice  in  question.  But  it  is 
not  enough  that  evidence  be  offered  by  the 
one  party.  It  must  be  attended  to  by  the 
other.  The  disposition  to  resist  iWnust  be* 
got  over.  The  love  of  truth  and  justice 
must  prevail  over  that  indolence  which  likes 
to  repose,  without  disturbance,  in  its  present 
convictions;  and  over  that  malignity  which, 
I  fear,  makes  a  dark  and  hostile  impression 
of  others,  too  congenial  to  many  hearts. 
Certain  it  is,  that  when  the  strongest  possible 
demonstration  was  offered  in  the  person  of 
him  who  was  the  finest  example  of  the  good 
and  fair,  it  was  found  that  the  inveteracy 
of  the  prejudice  could  withstand  it ;  and  it 
is  to  be  feared  that  with  the  question,  "  Can 
any  good  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?"  there 
were  many  in  that  day  who  shut  their  eyes 
and  their  affections  against  him. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  very  name  of  a  town 
fastened  an  association  of  prejudice  upon 
all  its  inhabitants.  But  this  is  only  one  ex- 
ample out  of  the  many.  A  sect  may  be 
thrown  into  discredit  by  a  very  few  of  its 
individual  specimens,  and  the  same  associa- 
tion be  fastened  upon  all  its  members.  A 
society  may  be  thrown  into  discredit  by  the 
failure  of  one  or  two  of  its  undertakings, 
and  this  will  be  enough  to  entail  suspicion 
and  ridicule  upon  all  its  future  operations. 


222 


MISSIONARY  SERMON. 


A  system  may  be  thrown  into  discredit  by 
the  fanaticism  and  folly  of  some  of  its  ad- 
vocates, and  it  may  be  long  before  it 
emerges  from  the  contempt  of  a  precipitate 
and  unthinking  public,  ever  ready  to  follow 
the  impulse  of  her  former  recollections ;  it 
may  be  long  before  it  is  reclaimed  from  ob- 
scurity by  the  eloquence  of  future  defend- 
ers ;  and  there  may  be  the  struggle  and  the 
perseverance  of  many  years  before  the  ex- 
isting association,  with  all  its  train  of  ob- 
loquies, and  disgusts,  and  prejudices,  shall 
be  overthrown. 

A  lover  of  truth  is  thus  placed  on  the 
right  field  for  the  exercise  of  his  principles. 
It  is  the  field  of  his  faith  and  of  his  pa- 
tience, and  in  which  he  is  called  to  a  manly 
encounter  with  the  enemies  of  his  cause. 
He  may  have  much  to  bear,  and  little  but 
the  mere  force  of  principle  to  uphold  him. 
But  what  a  noble  exhibition  of  mind,  when 
this  force  is  enough  for  it;  when,  though 
unsupported  by  the  sympathy  of  other 
minds,  it  can  rest  on  the  truth  and  righ- 
teousness of  its  own  principle ;  when  it  can 
select  its  object  from  among  the  thousand 
entanglements  of  error,  and  keep  by  it 
amidst  all  the  clamours  of  hostility  and 
contempt ;  when  all  the  terrors  of  disgrace 
cannot  alarm  it;  when  all  the  levities  of 
ridicule  cannot  shame  it;  when  all  the 
scowl  of  opposition  cannot  overwhelm  it. 

There  are  some  very  fine  examples  of 
such  a  contest,  and  of  such  a  triumph,  in 
the  history  of  philosophy.  In  the  progress 
of  speculation,  the  doctrine  of  the  occult 
qualities  fell  into  disrepute,  and  every 
thing  that  could  be  associated  with  such  a 
doctrine  was  disgraced  and  borne  down  by 
the  authority  of  the  reigning  school.  When 
Sir  Isaac  Newton's  Theory  of  Gravitation 
was  announced  to  the  world,  if  it  had  not 
the  persecution  of  violence,  it  had  at  least 
the  persecution  of  contempt  to  struggle 
with.  It  had  the  sound  of  an  occult  prin- 
ciple, and  it  was  charged  with  all  the  bi- 
gotry and  mysticism  of  the  schoolmen. 
This  kept  it  for  a  time  from  the  chairs  and 
universities  of  Europe,  and  for  years  a  kind 
of  obscure  and  ignoble  sectarianism  was 
annexed  to  that  name,  which  has  been 
carried  down  on  such  a  tide  of  glory  to 
distant  ages.  Let  us  think  of  this,  when 
philosophers  bring  their  names  and  their 
authority  to  bear  upon  us,  when  they  pour 
contempt  on  the  truth  which  we  love,  and 
on  the  system  which  we  defend;  and  as 
they  fasten  their  epithets  upon  us,  let  us  take 
comfort  in  thinking  that  we  are  under  the 
very  ordeal  through  which  philosophy  her- 
self had  to  pass,  before  she  achieved  the 
most  splendid  of  her  victories. 

Sure  I  am,  that  the  philosophers  of  that 
age  could  not  have  a  more  impetuous  con- 
tempt for  the  occult  principle,  which  they 
conceived  to  lie  in  the  doctrine  of  gravita- 


tion, that  many  of  our  present  philoso- 
phers have  for  the  equally  occult  principle 
which  they  conceive  to  lie  in  the  all-sub- 
duing efficacy  of  the  christian  faith  over 
every  mind  which  embraces  it.  Each  of 
these  two  doctrines  is  mighty  in  its  preten- 
sions. The  one,  asserts  a  principle  to  be 
now  in  operation,  and  which,,  reigning  over 
the  material  world,  gives  harmony  to  all 
its  movements.  The  other,  asserts  a  prin- 
ciple which  it  wants  to  put  into  operation,  to 
apply  to  all  minds,  to  carry  round  the 
globe,  and  to  visit  with  its  influence  all  the 
accessible  dominions  of  the  moral  world. 
Mighty  anticipation !  It  promises  to  rectify 
all  disorder,  to  extirpate  all  vice,  to  dry 
up  the  source  of  all  those  sins,  and  suffer- 
ings, and  sorrows,  which  have  spread  such 
dismal  and  unseemly  ravages  over  the  face 
of  society,  to  turn  every  soul  from  Satan 
unto  God ;  or,  in  other  words,  to  annihilate 
that  disturbing  force  which  has  jarred  the 
harmony  of  the  moral  world,  and  make  all 
its  parts  tend  obediently  to  the  Deity  as  its 
centre  and  its  origin. 

But  how  can  this  principle  be  put  into 
operation?  How  shall  it  be  brought  into 
contact  with  a  soul  at  the  distance  of  a 
thousand  miles  from  the  place  in  which  we 
are  now  standing?  I  know  no  other  con- 
ceivable way  than  sending  a  messenger  in 
possession  of  the  principle  himself,  and 
able  to  convey  it  into  the  mind  of  another 
by  his  powers  of  communication.  The 
precept  of  "  Go  and  preach  the  Gospel 
unto  every  creature,"  would  obtain  a  very 
partial  obedience  indeed,  if  there  was  no 
actual  moving  of  the  preacher  from  one 
place  or  neighbourhood  to  another.  Were 
he  to  stand  still  he  might  preach  to  some 
creatures;  he  might  get  a  smaller  or  a 
larger  number  to  assemble  around  him,  and 
it  is  to  be  hoped  from  the  stationary  pul- 
pits of  a  christian  country  the  preaching 
of  the  word  has  been  made  to  bear  with 
efficacy  on  the  souls  of  multitudes.  But  in 
reference  to  the  vast  majority  of  the  world, 
that  may  still  be  said  which  was  said  by 
an  apostle  in  the  infant  state  of  our  reli- 
gion, how  shall  they  hear  without  a  preach- 
er, and  how  shall  they  preach  except  they 
be  sent  ?  It  is  the  single  circumstance  of 
being  sent,  which  forms  the  peculiarity  so 
much  contended  for  by  one  part  of  the 
British  public,  and  so  much  resisted  by  the 
other.  The  preacher  who  is  so  sent  is,  in 
good  Latin,  termed  a  Missionary  ;  and  such 
is  the  magical  power  which  lies  in  the  very 
sound  of  this  hateful  and  obnoxious  term, 
that  it  is  no  sooner  uttered  than  a  thousand 
associations  of  dislike  and  prejudice  start 
into  existence.  And  yet  you  would  think 
it  very  strange  :  the  term  itself  is  perfectly 
correct  in  point  of  etymology.  Many  of 
those  who  are  so  clamorous  in  their  hos- 
tility against  it,  feel  no  contempt  for  the 


MISSIONARY  SERMON. 


223 


mere  act  of  preaching,  sit  with  all  decency 
and  apparent  seriousness  under  it,  and  have 
a  becoming  respect  for  the  character  of  a 
preaclier.  Convert  the  preacher  into  a  Mis- 
sionary, and  all  you  have  done  is  merely  to 
graft  upon  the  man's  preaching  the  circum- 
stance of  locomotion.  How  comes  it  that 
the  talent,  and  the  eloquence,  and  the  prin- 
ciple, which  appeared  so  respectable  in 
your  eyes,  so  long  as  they  stood  still,  lose 
all  their  respectablility  so  soon  as  they  be- 
gin to  move?  It  is  certainly  conceivable, 
that  the  personal  qualities  which  bear  with 
salutary  influence  upon  the  human  beings 
of  one  place,  may  pass  unimpaired  and 
have  the  same  salutary  influence  upon  the 
human  beings  of  another.  But  this  is  a 
missionary  process,  and  though  unable  to 
bring  forward  any  substantial  exception 
against  the  thing,  they  cannot  get  the  bet- 
ter of  the  disgust  excited  by  the  term. 
They  cannot  release  their  understanding 
from  the  influence  of  its  old  associations, 
and  these  philosophers  are  repelled  from 
truth,  and  frightened  out  of  the  way  which 
leads  to  it,  by  the  bugbear  of  a  name. 

The  precept  is,  "  Go  and  preach  the  gos- 
pel to  every  creature  under  heaven."  The 
people  I  allude  to  have  no  particular  quar- 
rel with  the  preach;  but  they  have  a  mor- 
tal antipathy  to  the  go — and  should  even 
their  own  admired  preacher  offer  to  go 
himself,  or  help  to  send  others,  he  becomes 
a  missionary,  or  the  advocate  of  a  mission ; 
and  the  question  of  my  text  is  set  up  in  re- 
sistance to  the  whole  scheme,  "Can  any 
good  thing  come  out  of  it?" 

I  never  felt  myself  in  more  favourable 
circumstances  for  giving  an  answer  to  the 
question,  than  I  do  at  this  moment,  sur- 
rounded as  I  am  by  the  members  of  a  So- 
ciety, which  has  been  labouring  for  up- 
wards of  a  century  in  the  field  of  mission- 
ary exertion.  It  need  no  longer  be  taken  up 
or  treated  as  a  speculative  question.  The 
question  of  the  text  may,  in  reference  to 
the  subject  now  before  us,  be  met  imme- 
diately by  the  answer  of  the  text,  "  Come 
and  see."  We  call  upon  you  to  look  to  a 
set  of  actual  performances,  to  examine  the 
record  of  past  doings,  and  like  good  philo- 
sophers as  you  are,  to  make  the  sober  de- 
positions of  history  carry  it  over  the  reve- 
ries of  imagination  and  prejudice.  We  deal 
in  proofs,  not  in  promises ;  in  practice,  not 
in  profession ;  in  experience,  and  not  in 
experiment.  The  Society  whose  cause  I 
am  now  appointed  to  plead  in  your  hear- 
ing, is  to  all  intents  and  purposes  a  Mis- 
sionary Society.  It  has  a  claim  to  all  the 
honour,  and  must  just  submit  to  all  the 
disgrace  which  such  a  title  carries  along 
with  it.  It  has  been  in  the  habit  for  many 
years  of  hiring  preachers  and  teachers, 
and  may  be  convicted  times  without  num- 
ber, of  the  act  of  sending  them  to  a  dis- 


tance. What  the  precise  distance  is  I  do 
not  understand  to  be  of  any  signification  to 
the  argument;  but  even  though  it  should, 
I  fear  that  in  the  article  of  distance,  our 
Society  has  at  times  been  as  extravagant 
as  many  of  her  neighbours.  Her  labours 
have  been  met  with  in  other  quarters  of 
the  world.  They  have  been  found  among 
the  haunts  of  savages.  They  have  dealt 
with  men  in  the  very  infancy  of  social  im- 
provement, and  their  zeal  for  proselytism 
has  far  outstript  that  sober  preparatory 
management,  which  is  so  much  contended 
for.  Why,  they  have  carried  the  Gospel 
message  into  climes  on  which  Europe  had 
never  impressed  a  single  trace  of  her  boast- 
ed civilization.  They  have  tried  the  spe- 
cies in  the  first  stages  of  its  rudeness  and 
ferocity,  nor  did  they  keep  back  the  offer 
of  the  Saviour  from  their  souls,  till  art  and 
industry  had  performed  a  sufficient  part, 
and  were  made  to  administer  in  fuller 
abundance  to  the  wants  of  their  bodies. 
This  process,  which  has  been  so  much  in- 
sisted upon,  they  did  not  wait  for.  They 
preached  and  they  prayed  at  the  very  out- 
set, and  they  put  into  exercise  all  the  wea- 
pons of  their  spiritual  ministry.  In  a  word, 
they  have  done  all  the  fanatical  and  of- 
fensive things  which  have  been  charged 
upon  other  missionaries.  If  there  be  folly 
in  such  enterprises  as  these,  our  Society 
has  the  accumulated  follies  of  a  whole  cen- 
tury upon  her  forehead.  She  is  among  the 
vilest  of  the  vile,  and  the  same  overwhelm- 
ing ridicule  which  has  thrown  the  mantle 
of  ignominy  over  other  Societies,  will  lay 
all  her  honours  and  pretensions  in  the  dust. 
We  are  not  afraid  of  linking  the  claims 
of  our  Society  with  the  general  merits  of 
the  Missionary  cause.  With  this  cause  she 
stands  or  falls.  When  the  spirit  of  Mis- 
sionary enterprise  is  afloat  in  the  country, 
she  will  not  be  neglected  among  the  mul- 
tiplicity of  other  objects.  She  will  not  suffer 
from  the  number  or  the  activity  of  kindred 
Societies.  They  who  conceive  alarm  upon 
this  ground,  have  not  calculated  upon  the 
productive  powers  of  benevolence.  They 
have  not  meditated  deeply  upon  the  opera- 
tion of  this  principle,  nor  do  they  conceive 
how  a  general  impulse  given  to  the  Mis- 
sionary spirit,  may  work  the  two  fold  effect 
of  multiplying  the  number  of  Societies,  and 
of  providing  for  each  of  them  more  abun- 
dantly than  ever. 

The  fact  is  undeniable.  In  this  corner  of 
the  empire  there  is  an  impetuous  and  over 
bearing  contempt  for  every  thing  connected 
with  the  name  of  Missionary.  The  cause 
has  been  outraged  by  a  thousand  inde- 
cencies. Every  thing  like  the  coolness  of 
the  philosophical  spirit  has  been  banished 
from  one  side  of  the  controversy,  and  all 
the  epithets  of  disgrace,  which  a  perverted 
ingenuity  could  devise,  have  been  unspa- 


224 


MISSIONARY  SERMON. 


ringly  lavished  on  the  noblest  benefactors 
of  the  species.  We  have  reason  to  believe 
that  this  opposition  is  not  so  extensive,  nor 
so  virulent  in  England.  It  is  due  to  certain 
provincial  associations,  and  may  be  ac- 
counted for.  It  is  most  a  Scottish  pecu- 
liarity; and  while,  with  our  neighbours  in 
the  South,  it  is  looked  upon  as  a  liberal  and 
enlightened  cause ;  as  a  branch  of  that  very 
principle  which  abolished  the  Slave  Trade 
of  Africa ;  as  one  of  the  wisest,  and  likeliest 
experiments,  which  in  this  age  of  benevo- 
lent enterprise,  is  now  making  for  the  in- 
terests of  the  world ;  as  a  scheme  ennobled 
by  the  patronage  of  royalty ;  supported  by 
the  contributions  of  opulence ;  sanctified  by 
the  prayers  and  the  wishes  of  philanthropy ; 
assisted  by  men  of  the  first  science,  and  the 
first  scholarship ;  carrying  into  execution 
by  as  hardy  adventurers  as  ever  trod  the 
desert  in  quest  of  novelty;  and  enriching 
grammar,  geography,  and  natural  know- 
ledge, by  the  discoveries  they  are  making 
every  year,  as  to  the  statistics  of  all  countries, 
and  the  peculiarities  of  all  languages ;  while, 
I  say,  such  are  the  dignified  associations 
thrown  around  the  Missionary  cause  in 
England ;  in  this  country  I  am  sorry  to  say 
a  very  different  set  of  collaterals  is  annexed 
to  it.  A  great  proportion  of  our  nobility, 
gentry,  and  clergy,  look  upon  it  as  a  very 
low  and  drivelling  concern  ;  as  a  visionary 
enterprize,  and  that  no  good  thing  can 
come  out  of  it ;  as  a  mere  dreg  of  sectarian- 
ism, and  which  none  but  sectarians,  or  men 
who  should  have  been  sectarians,  have  any 
relish  or  respect  for.  The  torrent  of  pre- 
judice runs  strongly  against  it,  and  the  very 
name  of  Missionary  excites  the  most  nau- 
seous antipathy  in  the  hearts  of  many,  who, 
in  other  departments,  approve  themselves 
to  be  able,  and  candid,  and  reflecting  in- 
quirers. 

We  have  no  doubt  that  in  the  course  of 
years  all  this  will  pass  away.  But  reason 
and  experience  are  slow  in  their  operation ; 
and,  in  the  mean  time,  we  count  it  fair  to 
neutralize,  if  possible,  one  prejudice  by  an- 
other; to  school  down  a  Scottish  antipathy 
by  a  Scottish  predilection,  and  to  take  shel- 
ter from  the  contempt  that  is  now  so  wan- 
tonly pouring  on  the  best  of  causes  under 
the  respected  name  of  a  Society,  which  has 
earned  by  the  services  of  a  hundred  years, 
the  fairest  claims  on  the  gratitude  and  vene- 
ration of  all  our  countrymen.  Come,  and 
see  the  effect  of  her  Missionary  exertions. 
It  is  palpable  and  near  at  hand.  It  lies  within 
the  compass  of  many  a  summer  tour;  and 
tell  me,  ye  children  of  fancy,  who  expatiate 
with  a  delighted  eye  over  the  wilds  of  our 
mountain  scenery,  if  it  be  not  a  dearer  and 
worthier  exercise  still,  to  contemplate  the 
habits  of  her  once  ragged  and  wandering 
population.  What  would  they  have  been  at 
this  moment,  had  schools,  and  Bibles,  and 


Ministers,  been  kept  back  from  them  ?  and 
had  the  men  of  a  century  ago  been  deterred 
by  the  flippancies  of  the  present  age,  from 
the  work  of  planting  chapels  and  seminaries 
in  that  neglected  land  ?  The  ferocity  of  their 
ancestors  would  have  come  down  unsoftened 
and  unsubdued  to  the  existing  generation. 
The  darkening  spirit  of  hostility  would  still 
have  lowered  upon  us  from  the  North  ;  and 
these  plains,  now  so  peaceful  and  so  happy, 
would  have  lain  open  to  the  fury  of  merci- 
less invaders.  O,  ye  soft  and  sentimental 
travellers,  who  wander  so  securely  over  this 
romantic  land,  you  are  right  to  choose  the 
season  when  the  angry  elements  of  nature 
are  asleep.  But  what  is  it  that  has  charmed 
to  their  long  repose  the  more  dreadful  ele- 
ments of  human  passion  and  human  injus- 
tice? What  is  it  that  has  quelled  the  bois- 
terous spirit  of  her  natives? — and  while  her 
torrents  roar  as  fiercely,  and  her  mountain 
brows  look  as  grimly  as  ever,  what  is  that 
which  has  thrown  so  softening  an  influence 
over  the  minds  and  manners  of  her  living 
population? 

I  know  not  that  there  are  several  causes; 
but  sure  I  am,  that  the  civilizing  influence 
of  our  Society  has  had  an  important  share. 
If  it  be  true  that  our  country  is  indebted  to 
her  Schools  and  her  Bibles  for  the  most  in- 
telligent and  virtuous  peasantry  in  Europe, 
let  it  never  be  forgotten  that  the  Schools  in 
the  establishment  of  our  Society  are  nearly 
equal  to  one-third  of  all  the  parishes  in  Scot- 
land; that  these  schools  are  chiefly  to  be 
met  with  in  the  Highland  district;  that  they 
bear  as  great  a  proportion  to  the  Highland 
population,  as  all  our  parochial  seminaries 
do  to  all  our  population ;  or,  in  other  words, 
had  the  local  convenience  for  the  attendance 
of  scholars  been  as  great  as  in  other  parts 
of  the  country,  the  apparatus  set  a  going  by 
our  Society,  for  the  education  of  the  High- 
land peasantry,  would  have  been  as  effective 
as  the  boasted  provision  of  the  legislature, 
for  the  whole  of  Scotland.* 


*  This  want  of  local  convenience  for  the  attend- 
ance of  scholars,  is  the  chief  difficulty  which  our 
Society  has  to  struggle  with.  The  number  of 
scholars  bears  to  the  population  the  proportion 
stated  in  the  text;  but  think  of  the  broad  surface 
of  a  thinly  peopled  country,  intersected  with  deep 
bays,  and  crossed  in  every  direction  by  the  natural 
barriers  of  lakes  and  mountains.  There  are  only 
two  ways  in  which  education  can  be  carried  over 
the  face  of  a  country  so  peculiarly  formed.  The 
first  way  is,  by  the  multiplication  of  stationary 
points,  from  which  learning  may  emanate  among 
the  children  in  distinct  neighbourhoods.  The  se- 
cond way  is,  by  the  operation  of  circulating  schools, 
which  describe  at  intervals  the  blank  spaces  that 
are  placed  beyond  the  reach  of  stationary  schools. 
In  the  present  situation  of  the  Highlands,  both  of 
these  methods  are  putting  into  operation ;  and  both 
are  entitled  to  the  support  and  patronage  of  the 
public.  But  without  wishing  to  withdraw  a  single 
farthing  from  the  latter  of  these  methods,  no  one 


MISSIONARY  SERMON. 


225 


I  pass  over  the  attempts  of  our  Society  to 
introduce  the  knowledge  of  the  arts  and  the 
habits  of  useful  industry  among  them.     1 


will  deny  that  the  former,  if  it  could  he  put  into 
operation,  is  the  most  effectual,  for  the  full  and  the 
egular  education  of  the  Highlanders.  A  fixed 
school,  operating  at  all  seasons,  will  do  more  for  its 
neighbourhood  than  can  be  done  by  a  moveable 
apparatus  set  up  only  at  intervals,  and  transferring 
itself  at  t'u'  end  of  a  few  months  to  other  scenes, 
and  to  other  neighbourhoods.  Let  us  aim,  there- 
fore, at  the  multiplication  of  the  fixed  points;  but 
a  might]  sum  will  be  necessary  before  such  a  sys- 
tem is  completed;  and  in  the  meantime,  let  not  the 
population  of  the  intermediate  spaces  be  abandoned. 
Let  the  cheapest  and  readiest,  expedient  that  offers 
for  their  education  be  adopted,  and  let  the  public 
hold  forth  a  liberal  hand  to  the  society  for  circulat- 
ing schools.  But  what  is  to  hinder  us  to  combine 
with  this,  the  gradual  extension  of  the  system  of 
fixed  and  regular  education?  The  parochial  schools 
furnish  us  with  so  many  fixed  points.  The  Society 
I  am  now  pleading  for,  furnish  us  so  many  more. 
The  very  existence  of  the  Gaelic  Society,  is  a 
proof  both  of  the  extent  and  multiplicity  of  those 
intermediate  spaces,  over  which  they  are  operating 
with  so  much  efficiency.  Now  the  precise  ground 
upon  which  we  lay  claim  to  the  support  of  the 
public,  is,  that  we  want  to  scatter  a  few  more 
stationary  schools  over  these  intermediate  spaces — 
not  to  supersede  the  labours  of  the  other  Society; 
for  the  period  of  time  at  which  this  can  be  possibly 
accomplished,  is  still  at  an  indefinite  distance  from 
us — but  by  narrowing  the  ground  of  their  opera- 
tion, to  enable  them  to  do  more  complete  justice  to 
the  mighty  remainder,  on  which  they  have  every 
prospect  of  expatiating  for  years  and  generations 
to  come;  to  make  the  task  more  commensurate  to 
their  means,  and  enable  them  to  circulate,  with 
greater  frequency  and  effect,  over  those  remoter 
tracts,  which  we  have  as  yet  no  immediate  prospect 
of  reaching. 

Who  would  r\>t  give  all  jealousy  to  the  wind, 
when  they  see  how  beautifully  situated  the  opera- 
tions of  these  two  distinct,  societies  are  to  one  an- 
other? <  Circulate,  with  all  possible  activity,  among 
the  interjacent  spaces  on  the  one  hand,  but  do  not 
give  up  the  prospect  of  permanent  establishments 
in  thes  ■  3paces  o^\  the  other.  The  last  is  the  pro- 
vince of  our  Society,  and  is  advanced  as  our  distinct 
claim  upon  the  generosity  of  the  public.  We  lay 
claim  to  this  generosity;  and  what  is  more,  we 
stand  in  need  of  it.  It  is  not  true  that  we  do  not 
teach  the  I  taelic  to  our  Highland  scholars.  The  in- 
structions given  to  every  Schoolmaster,  and  the 
Reports  of  the  committees  of  Presbyteries,  upon 
the  examination  of  scholars,  form  a  distinct  refuta- 
tion to  the  impression  which  has  got  abroad  upon 
this  subject.  Strange  that  this  Society  should  be 
charged  with  a  hostility  to  Gaelic  education,  to 
whose  exertion  and  whose  patronage  the  High- 
lands of  Scotland  are  indebted  for  the  existence  of 
the  Gaelic  Bible.  ( )n  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  true 
that  our  funds  are  so  ample  as  to  make  us  inde- 
pendent of  any  appeals  that  can  be  made  to  the 
generosity  of  the  public.  Our  expenditure  is  at  this 
moment  pressing  upon  our  resources.  We  have 
done  much.  There  are  hundreds  of  Schools  regu- 
larly supported  by  us;  but  we  appeal  to  the  very 
existence  of  other  Societies  for  the  fact,  that  we 
have  still  much  to  do.  We  appeal  to  the  press  of 
applications  for  more  Schools,  and  more  School- 
masters, and  more  salaries.     These  applications 

AtiJ 


have  not  room  for  every  thing.  And  to  re- 
claim, if  possible,  the  prejudices  of  those 
who  I  fear  have  little  sympathy  with  the 
wants  of  the  ever-during  soul,  I  have  been 
lingering  all  the  while  upon  the  inferior 
ground  of  temporal  advantage.  But  I  may 
detain  you  for  hours  upon  this  ground,  and 
after  all  I  have  said  about  a  more  peaceful 
neighbourhood,  and  a  more  civilized  pea- 
santry, I  may  positively  have  said  nothing 
upon  the  essential  merits  of  the  cause.  1 
can  conceive  the  wish  of  his  present  Ma- 
jesty, that  every  one  in  his  dominions  may 
be  able  to  read  the  Bible,  to  meet  an  echo 
in  every  bosom.  But  why  ?  Because  the 
very  habit  of  reading  implies  a  more  intel- 
ligent people,  and  must  stand  associated  in 
every  mind  with  habits  of  order,  and  com- 
fort, and  decency.  But  separate  these  from 
the  religious  principle,  and  what  are  they? 
At  the  very  best  they  are  the  virtues  of  a 
life;  their  office  is  to  scatter  a  few  fleeting 
joys  over  a  short  and  uncertain  pilgrimage, 
and  to  deck  a  temporary  scene  with  bless- 
ings, which  are  to  perish  and  be  forgotten. 
No !  In  our  attempts  to  carry  into  effect  the 
principle  of  being  all  things  to  all  men,  let 
us  never  exalt  that  which  is  subordinate; 
let  us  never  give  up  our  reckoning  upon 
eternity,  or  be  ashamed  to  own  it  as  our 
sentiment,  that  though  schools  were  to  mul- 
tiply, though  Missionaries  were  to  labour, 
and  all  the  decencies  and  accomplishments 
of  social  life  were  to  follow  in  their  train, 
the  great  object  would  still  be  unattained,  so 
long  as  the  things  of  the  Holy  Spirit  were 
unrelished  and  undiscemed  among  them, 
and  they  wanted  that  knowledge  of  God  and 
of  Jesus  Christ,  which  is  life  everlasting. 
This  is  the  ground  upon  which  every  Chris- 
tian will  rest  the  vindication  of  every  Mis- 
sionary enterprise;  and  this  is  the  ground 
upon  which  he  may  expect  to  be  abandoned 
by  the  infidel,  who  laughs  at  piety;  or  the 
lukewarm  believer,  who  dreads  to  be  laughed 
at  for  the  extravagance  to  which  he  carries 
it.  The  Christian  is  not  for  giving  up  the 
social  virtues;  but  the  open  enemy  and  the 
cold  friend  of  the  gospel  are  for  giving  up 
piety;  and  while  they  garnish  all  that  is 
right  and  amiable  in  humanity,  with  the 
unsubstantial  praises  of  their  eloquence,  they 
pour  contempt  upon  that  very  principle 
which  forms  our  best  security  for  the  ex- 
istence of  virtue  in  the  world.  We  say  no- 
thing that  can  degrade  the  social  virtues  in 
the  estimation  of  men;  but  by  making  them 
part  of  religion,  we  exalt  them  above  all 
that  poet  or  moralist  can  do  for  them.  We 
give  them  God  for  their  object,  and  for  their 
end  the  grandeur  of  eternity.  No!  It  is  not 

come  upon  us  every  year,  and  the  painfnl  necessity 
we  are  under  of  refusing  many  of  them,  proves  to 
a  demonstration,  that  the  want  of  pecuniary  aid  is 
the  only  limit  to  the  usefulness  of  our  exertions. 


226 


MISSIONARY  SERMON. 


the  Christian  who  is  the  enemy  of  social 
virtue;  it  is  he  who  sighs  in  all  the  ecstacy 
of  sentiment  over  it,  at  the  very  time  that 
he  is  digging  away  its  foundation,  and 
wreaking  on  that  piety  which  is  its  princi- 
ple, the  cruelty  of  his  scorn. 

It  is  very  well  in  its  place  to  urge  the 
civilizing  influence  of  a  Missionary  Society. 
But  this  is  not  the  main  object  of  such  an  in- 
stitution. It  is  not  the  end.  It  is  only  the 
accompaniment.  It  is  a  never-failing  colla- 
teral, and  may  be  used  as  a  lawful  instru- 
ment in  fighting  the  battles  of  the  Mission- 
ary cause.  It  is  right  enough  to  contest  it 
with  our  enemies  at  every  one  point  of 
advantage ;  and  for  this  purpose  to  descend, 
if  necessary,  to  the  very  ground  on  which 
they  have  posted  themselves.  But,  when 
so  engaged,  let  us  never  forget  the  main 
elements  of  our  business;  for  there  is  a 
danger,  that  when  turning  the  eye  of  our 
antagonist  to  the  lovely  picture  of  peace, 
and  industry  and  cultivation,  raised  by 
many  a  Christian  Missionary,  among  the 
wilds  of  heathenism,  we  turn  it  away  from 
the  very  marrow  and  substance  of  our  un- 
dertaking ;  the  great  aim  of  which  is  to 
preach  Christ  to  sinners,  and  to  rear  human 
souls  to  a  beauteous  and  never-fading  im- 
mortality. 

The  wish  of  our  pious  and  patriotic  king, 
that  every  man  in  his  dominions  might  be 
able  to  read  the  Bible,  has  circulated 
through  the  land.  It  has  been  commented 
upon  with  eloquence;  and  we  doubt  not, 
that  something  like  the  glow  of  a  virtuous 
sensibility  has  been  awakened  by  it.  But 
let  us  never  forget  that  in  the  breasts  of 
many,  all  this  may  be  little  better  than  a 
mere  theatrical  emotion.  Give  me  the  man 
who  is  in  the  daily  habit  of  opening  his 
Bible,  who  willingly  puts  himself  into  the 
attitude  of  a  little  child  when  he  reads  it. 
and  casts  an  unshrinking  eye  over  its  in- 
formation and  its  testimony.  This  is  the 
way  of  giving  effect  and  consistency  to  their 
boasted  admiration  of  the  royal  sentiment. 
The  mere  admiration  in  itself  indicates  no- 
thing. It  may  be  as  little  connected  with 
the  sturdiness  of  principle  as  the  finery  of 
any  poetical  delusion.  O !  it  is  easy  to 
combine  a  vague  and  general  testimony  to 
the  Bible,  with  a  disgusted  feeling  of  anti- 
pathy to  the  methodism  of  its  actual  con- 
tents ;  and  thousands  can  profess  to  make  it 
their  rallying  point,  who  pour  contempt 
upon  its  doctrines,  and  give  the  lie  to  the 
faithfulness  of  its  sayings. 

Let  us  put  you  to  the  trial.  The  Bible 
tells  us,  that  "  he  who  believeth  not  the  Son 
shall  not  see  life,  but  the  wrath  of  God 
abideth  on  him."  It  calls  upon  us  "to 
preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature,"  that 
every  creature  may  believe  it ;  for  he  who 
so  "  believeth  shall  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life."    Such  is  the  mighty  dif- 


ference between  believing  and  not  believ- 
ing. It  makes  all  the  difference  between 
hell  and  heaven.  He  who  believeth,  hath 
passed  from  death  eyen  unto  life;  and  the 
errand  of  the  Missionary  is  to  carry  these 
overtures  to  the  men  of  all  languages,  and 
all  countries ;  that  he  may  prevail  upon 
them  to  make  this  transition.  Some  reject 
his  overtures,  and  to  them  the  gospel  is  the 
savour  of  death  unto  death.  Others  em- 
brace them,  and  to  them  the  gospel  is  the 
savour  of  life  unto  life.  Whatever  be  his 
reception,  he  counts  it  his  duty  and  his  bu- 
siness to  preach  the  gospel ;  and  if  he  get 
some  to  hear,  and  others  to  forbear,  he  just 
fares  as  the  Apostles  did  before  him.  Now, 
my  brethren,  have  we  got  among  the  sub- 
stantial realities  of  the  Missionary  cause. 
We  have  carried  you  forward  from  the  ac- 
cessaries to  the  radical  elements  of  the  bu- 
siness ;  and  if  you,  offended  at  the  hardness 
of  these  sayings,  feel  as  if  now  we  had  got 
within  the  confines  of  methodism ;  then 
know  that  this  feeling  arose  in  your  minds 
at  the  very  moment  that  we  got  within  the 
four  corners  of  the  Bible ;  and  your  fancied 
admiration  of  this  book,  however  exquisite 
ly  felt,  or  eloquently  uttered,  is  nothing  bet 
ter  than  the  wretched  flummery  of  a  sickly 
and  deceitful  imagination. 

Our  venerable  Society  has  given  the 
sanction  of  her  example  to  the  best  and  the 
dearest  objects  of  Missionaries.  Like  otherg 
she  has  kept  a  wakeful  eye  over  all  that 
could  contribute  to  the  interests  of  the 
species.  She  has  given  encouragement  to 
art  and  to  industry,  but  she  has  never  been 
diverted  from  the  religion  of  a  people  as  the 
chief  aim  of  all  her  undertakings.  To  this 
end  she  has  multiplied  schools,  and  made 
the  reading  of  the  Scriptures  the  main  ac- 
quirement of  her  scholars.  The  Bible  is  her 
school-book,  and  it  is  to  her  that  the 
Highlands  of  Scotland  owe  the  transla- 
tion of  the  sacred  record  into  their  own 
tongue.  She  sends  preachers  as  well  as 
teachers  among  them.  As  she  has  made 
the  reading  of  the  word  a  practicable  ac- 
quirement, so  she  has  made  the  hearing  of 
the  word  an  accessible  privilege.  In  short, 
she  has  set  up  what  may  be  called  a  chris- 
tian apparatus  in  many  districts,  which  the 
Legislature  of  the  country  had  left  un- 
provided for.  She  is  filling  up  the  blanks 
which,  among  the  scattered  and  extended 
parishes  of  the  North,  occur  so  frequently 
over  the  broad  surface  of  a  thinly  peopled 
country.  She  has  come  in  contact  with 
those  remoter  groups  and  hamlets,  which 
the  influence  of  the  Establishment  did  not 
reach.  And  she  has  multiplied  her  en- 
dowments at  such  a  rate,  that  very  many 
people  have  got  christian  instruction  in  its 
different  branches  as  nearly,  and  as  effec- 
tively to  bear  upon  them,  as  in  the  more 
favoured  districts  of  the  land. 


MISSIONARY  SERMON. 


227 


When  a  wealthy  native  of  a  Highland 
parish,  penetrated  with  a  feeling  of  the 
wants  of  his  neighbours,  ereets  a  chapel,  or 
endows  a  seminary  among  them,  his  bene- 
volence is  felt  and  acknowledged  by  all ; 
and  J  am  not  aware  of  a  single  association 
which  can  disturb  our  moral  estimate  of 
such  a  proceeding,  or  restrain  the  fulness 
of  that  testimony  which  is  due  to  it.  But 
should  an  individual,  at  a  distance  from 
the  parish  in  question,  do  the  same  thing  ; 
should  he,  with  no  natural  claim  upon  him, 
and  without  the  stimulus  of  any  of  those 
affections,  which  the  mere  circumstance 
of  vicinity  is  fitted  to  inspire  ;  should  he,  I 
say,  merely  upon  a  moving  representation 
of  their  necessities,  devote  his  wealth  to  the 
same  cause;  what  influence  ought  this  to 
have  upon  our  estimate  of  his  character? 
Why,  in  all  fairness,  it  should  just  lead  us 
to  infer  a  stronger  degree  of  the  principle 
of  philanthropy,  a  principle  which  in  his 
case  was  unaided  by  any  local  influence 
whatever,  and  which  urged  him  to  exer- 
tion, and  to  sacrifice,  in  the  face  of  an  obsta- 
cle which  the  other  had  not  to  contend  with 
— the  obstacle  of  distance.  Now,  what  one 
individual  may  be  conceived  to  do  for  one 
parish,  a  number  of  individuals  may  do  for 
a  number  of  parishes.  They  may  form  into 
a  society,  and  combine  their  energies  and 
their  means  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole 
country,  and  should  that  country  lie  at  a 
distance,  the  only  way  in  which  it  affects 
our  estimate  of  their  exertions,  is  by  lead- 
ing us  to  see  in  them  a  stronger  principle 
of  attachment  to  the  species,  and  a  more  de- 
termined zeal  for  the  object  of  their  bene- 
volence, in  spite  of  the  additional  difficulties 
with  which  it  is  encumbered. 

Now  the  principle  does  not  stop  here. 
In  the  instance  before  us,  it  has  been  car- 
ried from  the  metropolis  of  Scotland  to  the 
distance  of  her  Northern  extremities.  But 
tell  me,  why  it  might  not  be  carried  round 
the  globe.  This  very  Society  has  carried 
it  over  the  Atlantic,  and  the  very  apparatus 
which  she  has  planted  in  the  Highlands 
and  islands  of  our  country,  she  has  set  a 
going  more  than  once  in  the  wilds  of 
America.  The  very  discipline  which  she 
has  applied  to  her  own  population,  she  has 
brought  to  bear  on  human  beings  in  other 
quarters  of  the  world.  She  has  wrought 
with  the  same  instruments  upon  the  same 
materials,  and  as  in  sound  philosophy  it  ought 
to  have  been  expected,  she  has  obtained  the 
same  result — a  christian  people  rejoicing  in 
the  faith  of  Jesus,  and  ripening  for  heaven,  by 
a  daily  progress  upon  earth  in  the  graces 
and  accomplishments  of  the  gospel.  I  have 
yet  to  learn  what  that  is  which  should  make 
the  same  teaching,  and  the  same  Bible,  ap- 
plicable to  one  part  of  the  species,  and  not 
applicable  to  another.  I  am  not  aware  of 
a  single  principle  in  the  philosophy  of  man, 


which  points  to  such  a  distinction  ;  nor  do  I 
know  a  single  category  in  the  science  of 
human  nature,  which  can  assist  me  in  draw- 
ing the  landmark  between  those  to  whom 
Christianity  may  be  given,  and  those  who 
are  unworthy  or  unfit  for  the  participation 
of  its  blessings.  I  have  been  among  illiterate 
peasantry,  and  I  have  marked  how  apt  they 
were  in  their  narrow  field  of  observation, 
to  cherish  a  kind  of  malignant  contempt  for 
the  men  of  another  shire,  or  another  coun- 
try. I  have  heard  of  barbarians,  and  of 
their  insolent  disdain  for  foreigners.  1  have 
read  of  Jews,  and  of  their  unsocial  and  ex- 
cluding prejudices.  But  I  always  looked 
upon  these  as  the  jealousies  of  ignorance, 
which  science  and  observation  had  the 
effect  of  doing  away,  and  that  the  accom- 
plished traveller,  liberalized  by  frequent  in- 
tercourse with  the  men  of  other  countries, 
saw  through  the  vanity  of  all  these  preju- 
dices, and  disowned  them.  What  the  man 
of  liberal  philosophy  is  in  sentiment,  the 
Missionary  is  in  practice.  He  sees  in  every 
man  a  partaker  of  his  own  nature,  and  a 
brother  of  his  own  species.  He  contem- 
plates the  human  mind  in  the  generality  of 
its  great  elements.  He  enters  upon  the  wide 
field  of  benevolence,  and  disdains  those 
geographical  barriers,  by  which  little  men 
would  shut  out  one  half  of  the  species  from 
the  kind  offices  of  the  other.  His  business 
is  with  man,  and  let  his  localities  be  what 
they  may,  enough  for  his  large  and  noble 
heart,  that  he  is  bone  of  the  same  bone. 
To  get  at  him,  he  will  shun  no  danger,  he 
will  shrink  from  no  privation,  he  will  spare 
himself  no  fatigue,  he  will  brave  every  ele- 
ment of  heaven,  he  will  hazard  the  extremi- 
ties of  every  clime,  he  will  cross  seas,  and 
work  his  persevering  way  through  the  briers 
and  thickets  of  the  wilderness.  In  perils 
of  waters,  in  perils  of  robbers,  in  perils 
by  the  heathen,  in  weariness  and  painful- 
ness,  he  seeks  after  him.  The  cast  and  the 
colour  are  nothing  to  the  comprehensive 
eye  of  a  Missionary.  His  is  the  broad  prin- 
ciple of  good  will  to  the  children  of  men. 
His  doings  are  with  the  species,  and  over- 
looking all  the  accidents  of  climate,  or  of 
country,  enough  for  him.  if  the  indivi- 
dual he  is  in  quest  of  be  a  man — a  brother 
of  the  same  nature — with  a  body  which  a 
few  years  will  bring  to  the  grave,  and  a 
spirit  that  returns  to  the  God  who  gave  it. 

But  this  man  of  large  and  liberal  princi- 
ples is  a  Missionary;  and  this  is  enough  to 
put  to  flight  all  admiration  of  him,  and  of 
his  doings.  I  forbear  to  expatiate  ;  but  sure 
I  am  that  certain  philosophers  of  the  day, 
and  certain  fanatics  of  the  day,  should  be 
made  to  change  places ;  if  those  only  are  t  lie 
genuine  philosophers  who  keep  to  the  prin- 
ciples in  spite  of  names,  and  those  only  the 
genuine  fanatics  who  are  ruled  by  aames  in- 
stead of  principles. 


228 


MISSIONARY  SERMON. 


The  Society  for  propagating  Christian 
knowledge  in  the  Highlands  and  Islands 
of  Scotland,  has  every  claim  upon  a  reli- 
gious public  ;  and  I  trust  that  those  claims 
will  not  be  forgotten  among  the  multiplicity 
of  laudable  and  important  objects,  which 
are  now  afloat  in  this  age  of  benevolent 
enterprise.  She  has  all  the  experience  and 
respectability  and  tried  usefulness  of  age ; 
may  she  have  none  of  the  infirmities  of  age. 
May  she  have  nothing  either  of  the  rust  or 
the  indolence  of  an  establishment  about 
her.  Resting  on  the  consciousness  of  her 
own  righteous  and  strongly  supported 
cause ;  may  she  look  on  the  operations  of 
other  societies  with  complacency,  and  be 
jealous  of  none  of  them.  She  confers  with 
them  upon  their  common  objects ;  she  as- 
sists them  with  her  experience,  and  when, 
struggling  with  difficulties,  they  make 
their  appeal  to  the  generosity  of  the  chris- 
tian world,  she  nobly  leads  the  way,  and 


imparts  to  them  with  liberal  hand,  out  of 
her  own  revenue.  She  has  conferred  last- 
ing obligations  upon  the  Missionary  cause. 
She  spreads  over  it  the  shelter  of  her  vene- 
rable name,  and  by  the  answer  of  u  Come 
and  see,"  to  those  who  ask  if  any  good 
thing  can  come  out  of  it,  she  gives  a  prac- 
tical refutation  to  the  reasonings  of  all  its 
adversaries.  She  redeems  the  best  of  causes 
from  the  unmerited  contempt  under  which 
it  labours,  and  she  will  be  repaid.  The  re- 
ligious public  will  not  be  backward  to  own 
the  obligation.  We  are  aware  of  the  pre- 
valence of  the  Missionary  spirit,  and  of  the 
many  useful  directions  in  which  it  is  now 
operating.  But  we  are  not  afraid  of  the 
public  being  carried  away  from  us.  We 
know  that  there  is  room  for  all,  that 
there  are  funds  for  all ;  and  our  policy  is 
not  to  repress,  but  to  excite  the  Mission- 
ary spirit,  and  then  there  will  be  a  heart 
for  all. 


A  SERMON, 

DELIVERED  IN  THE  TRON  CHURCH,  GLASGOW,  ON  WEDNESDAY,  NOV.  19, 18P. 
THE  DAY  OF  THE  FUNERAL  OF  HER  ROYAL  HIGHNESS, 

THE 

PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE  OF  WALES. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  following  Sermon  is  the  fruit  of  a  very  hurried  and  unlooked-for  exer- 
tion— and  never  was  there  any  publication  brought  forward  under  circumstances 
of  greater  reluctancy,  and  with  a  more  honest  feeling  of  unpreparedness,  on  the 
part  of  the  author.  The  truth  is,  that  he  was  at  a  great  distance  from  home, 
when  the  urgency  of  the  public  demand  for  his  personal  appearance  on  the  nine- 
teenth of  November,  reached  him,  and  that  so  late,  that  he  had  no  other  resource 
than  to  write  for  the  pulpit  during  the  intervals,  and  after  the  exhaustion  of  a 
very  rapid  and  fatiguing  journey.  It  is  true  that  he  might  revise.  But  to  revise 
such  a  composition,  would  be  to  re-make  it ;  and  he  has  chosen  rather  to  bring  it 
forward,  and  that  as  nearly  as  possible,  in  the  literal  terms  of  its  delivery. 

But,  it  may  be  asked,  if  so  unfit  for  the  public  eye,  why  make  it  public  ?  It  may 
be  thought  by  many,  that  the  avowal  is  not  a  wise  one.  But  wisdom  ought  never 
to  be  held  in  reverence  separately  from  truth ;  and  it  would  be  disguising  the 
real  motive,  were  it  concealed,  that  a  very  perverse  misconception  which  has 
gone  abroad  respecting  one  passage  of  the  Sermon,  and  which  has  found  its  way 
into  many  of  the  newspapers,  is  the  real  and  impelling  cause  of  the  step  that  has 
been  taken  ;  and  that,  had  it  not  been  for  the  spread  of  such  a  misconception, 
there  never  would  have  been  obtruded  on  the  public,  a  performance  written  on  a 
call  of  urgent  necessity,  and  most  assuredly  without  the  slightest  anticipation  of 
authorship. 

But,  it  may  be  said,  does  not  such  a  measure  as  this  bring  the  pulpit  into  a  state 
of  the  most  degrading  subordination  to  the  diurnal  press,  since  there  is  not  a  single 
sermon  which  cannot  be  so  reported,  as,  without  the  literality  of  direct  falsehood, 
to  convey  through  the  whole  country,  all  the  injuries  of  a  substantial  misrepre- 
sentation ;  and  if  a  minister  should  condescend  publicly  to  notice  every  such  ran- 
dom and  ephemeral  statement,  he  might  thereby  incessantly  involve  himself  in 
the  most  helpless  and  harassing  of  all  controversy  ? 

Now,  in  opposition  to  this,  let  it  be  observed,  that  a  person  placed  in  this  diffi- 
cult and  disagreeable  predicament,  may  advert  for  once  to  such  a  provocation,  and 
that  for  the  express  purpose,  that  he  may  never  have  to  do  it  again.  He  may 
count  it  enough  to  make  one  decisive  exposure  of  the  injustice  which  can  be  done 
in  this  way  to  a  public  instructor,  and  then  hold  himself  acquitted  of  every  similar 
attempt  in  all  time  coming.  He  thereby  raises  a  sort  of  abiding  or  monumental 
antidote,  which  may  serve  to  neutralize  the  mischief  of  any  future  attack,  or  fu- 
ture insinuation.  By  this  one  act,  though  he  may  not  silence  the  obloquies  of  the 
daily  press,  he  has  at  least  purchased  for  himself  the  privilege  of  standing  unmoved 
by  all  the  mistakes,  or  by  all  the  malignities  which  may  proceed  from  it. 

Yet,  it  is  no  more  than  justice  to  a  numerous  and  very  important  class  of  writers, 
tc  state  it  as  our  conviction  of  the  great  majority  of  them,  that  they  feel  the  dig- 


230 


SERMON  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE. 


nity  and  responsibility  of  their  office,  and  hold  it  to  be  the  highest  point  of  pro- 
fessional honour,  ever  to  maintain  the  most  gentlemanly  avoidance  of  all  that  is 
calculated  to  wound  the  feelings  of  an  unoffending  individual. 

There  is  one  temptation,  however,  to  which  the  editors  of  this  department  of 
literature  are  peculiarly  liable,  which  may  be  briefly  adverted  to,  and  the  influ- 
ence of  which,  may  be  observed  to  extend  even  to  a  higher  class  of  journalists. 
There  is  an  eagernesss  to  transmute  every  thing  into  metal  of  their  own  peculiar 
currency — there  is  an  extreme,  avidity  to  lay  hold  of  every  utterance,  and  to  send 
it  abroad,  tinged  with  the  colouring  of  their  own  party — there  is  a  ravenous  de- 
sire of  approbation,  extending  itself  to  every  possible  occurrence,  and  to  every  one 
individual  whom  they  would  like  to  enlist  under  the  banners  of  their  own  parti- 
sanship, which,  for  their  own  credit,  they  would  be  more  careful  to  repress,  did 
they  perceive  with  sufficient  force,  and  sufficient  distinctness,  that  it  makes  them 
look  more  like  desperadoes  of  a  sinking  cause,  than  the  liberal  and  honest  ex- 
pounders of  public  politics  and  literature,  which  claim  so  respectable  a  portion  of 
the  intelligence  of  the  country. 

The  writer  of  this  sermon  has  only  to  add,  that  he  does  not  know  how  a  sorer 
imputation  could  have  been  devised  against  the  heart  and  the  principles  of  a  clergy- 
man, than  that,  on  the  tender  and  hallowed  day  of  a  nation's  repose  from  all  the 
sordidness  and  all  the  irritations  of  party,  he  should  have  made  the  pulpit  a  vehicle 
of  invective  against  any  administration  ;  or  that,  after  mingling  his  tears  with  those 
of  his  people,  over  the  untimely  death  of  one  so  dear  to  us,  he  should  have  found 
room  for  any  thing  else  than  those  lessons  of  general  Christianity,  by  which  an 
unsparing  reproof  is  ministered  to  impiety,  in  whatever  quarter  it  may  be  found — 
even  that  impiety  which  wears  the  very  same  features,  and  offers  itself  in  the  very 
same  aspect,  under  all  administrations. 


SERMON. 

"  For  when  thy  judgments  are  in  the  earth,  the  inhabitants  of  the  world  will  learn  righteousness." 

Isaiah  xxvi.  9. 


I  am  sorry  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  ex- 
tend the  application  of  this  text  beyond  its 
more  direct  and  immediate  bearing  on  that 
event  on  which  we  are  now  met  to  mingle 
our  regrets,  and  our  sensibilities,  and  our 
prayers — that,  occupied  as  we  all  are  with 
the  mournful  circumstance  that  has  bereft 
our  country  of  one  of  its  brightest  anticipa- 
tions, I  shall  not  be  able  to  clear  my  way 
to  the  accomplishment  of  what  is,  strictly 
speaking,  the  congregational  object  of  an 
address  from  the  pulpit,  which  ought,  in 
every  possible  case,  to  be  an  address  to  the 
conscience — that,  therefore,  instead  of  the 
concerns  of  personal  Christianity,  which, 
under  my  present  text,  I  might,  if  I  had 
space  for  it,  press  home  upon  the  attention 
of  my  hearers,  I  shall  be  under  the  necessi- 
ty of  restricting  myself  to  that  more  partial 
application  of  the  text  which  relates  to  the 
matters  of  public  Christianity.  It  is  upon 
this  account,  as  well  as  upon  others,  that  I 
rejoice  in  the  present  appointment,  for  the 
improvement  of  that  sad  and  sudden  visita- 
tion, which  has  so  desolated  the  hearts  and 
the  hopes  of  a  whole  people.  I  therefore 
feel  more  freedom  in  coming  forward  with 


such  remarks  as,  to  the  eyes  of  many,  may- 
wear  a  more  public  and  even  political  com- 
plexion, than  is  altogether  suited  to  the 
ministrations  of  the  Sabbath.  And  yet  I 
cannot  but  advert,  and  that  in  such  terms 
of  reproof  as  I  think  to  be  most  truly  appli- 
cable, to  another  set  of  men,  whose  taste  for 
preaching  is  very  much  confined  to  these 
great  and  national  occasions — who,  habitu- 
ally absent  from  church  on  the  Sabbath,  are 
yet  observed,  and  that  most  prominently,  to 
come  together  in  eager  and  clustering  at- 
tendance, on  some  interesting  case  of  pathos 
or  of  politics — who  in  this  way  obtrude  upon 
the  general  notice,  their  loyalty  to  an  earthly 
sovereign,  while,  in  reference  to  their  Lord 
and  Master,  Jesus  Christ,  they  scandalize 
all  that  is  Christian  in  the  general  feeling, 
by  their  manifest  contempt  for  him  and  for 
his  ordinances — who  look  for  the  ready 
compliance  of  ministers,  in  all  that  can  gra- 
tify their  inclinations  for  pageantry,  while 
for  the  real,  effective,  and  only  important 
business  of  ministers,  they  have  just  as  little 
reverence  as  if  it  were  all  a  matter  of  hollow 
and  insignificant  parade.  It  is  right  to  share 
in  the  triumphs  of  successful,  and  to  shed 


SERMON  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE. 


231 


the  tears  of  afflicted,  patriotism.  But  it  is 
also  right  to  estimate  according  to  its  true 
charaeter,  the  patriotism  of  those  who  are 
never  known  to  oiler  one  homage  to  Chris- 
tianity, except  when  it  is  associated  with 
the  affairs  of  state,  or  with  the  wishes,  and 
the  commands,  and  the  expectations  of 
statesmen. 

But  the  frivolous  and  altogether  despica- 
ble taste  of  the  men  to  whom  I  am  alluding, 
must  be  entirely  separated  from  such  an  oc- 
casion as  the  present.     For,  in  truth,  there 
never  was  an  occasion  of  such  magnitude, 
and  at  the  same  time  of  such  peculiarity. 
There  never  was  an  occasion  on  which  a 
matter  of  deep    political    interest   was   so 
blended  and  mixed  up  with  matter  of  very 
deep  and  affecting  tenderness,     ft  does  not 
wear  the  aspect  <>i"  an  affair  of  politics  at  all, 
but  of  an  a/fair  of  the  heart;  and  the  novel 
exhibition  is  now  offered,  of  all  party-irrita- 
tions merging  into  one  commo|  and  over- 
whelming sensibility.    Oh!  how  it  tends  to 
quiet  the  agitations  of  every  earthly  interest 
and  earthly  passion,  when  Death  steps  for- 
ward and   demonstrates   the   littleness  of 
them  all — when  he  stamps  a  character  of 
such  affecting  insignificance  on  all  that  we 
are  contending  for — when,  as  if  to  make 
known  the  greatness  of  his  power  in  the 
sight   of   a   whole  country,   he  stalks   in 
ghastly  triumph  over  the  might   and   the 
grandeur  of  its  most   august  family,  and 
singling  out  that  member  of  it  on  whom 
the  dearest  hopes  and  the  gayest  visions  of 
the  people  were  suspended,  he,  by  one  fatal 
and  resistless  blow,  sends  abroad  the  fame 
of  his  victory  and  his  strength,  throughout 
the  wide  extent  of  an  afflicted  nation.  He  has 
indeed  put  a  cruel  and  impressive  mockery 
on  ail  the  glories  of  mortality.    A  few  days 
ago,  all  looked  so  full  of  life,  and  promise, 
and  security — when  we  read  of  the  bustle 
of  the  meat  preparation — and  were  told  of 
the  skill  and  the  talent  that  were  pressed 
into  the  service — and  heard  of  the  goodly 
attendance  of  the  most  eminent  in  the  na- 
tion—and how  officers  of  state,  and   the 
titled  dignitaries  of  the  land,  were  charioted 
in  splendour  to  the  scene  of  expectation,  as 
to  the  joys  of  an  approaching  holiday — yes, 
and  we  were  told  too.  that  the  bells  of  the 
surrounding  villages  were  all  in  readiness 
for  the  merry  peal  of  gratulation,  and  that 
the  expectant  metropolis  of  our  empire,  on 
tiptoe  for  the  announcement  of  her  future 
monarch,  had   her  winged  couriers  of  des- 
patch to  speed  the  welcome  message  to  the 
ears  of  her  citizens,  and  that  from  her  an 
embassy  of  gladness  was  to  travel  over  all 
the  provinces  of  the  land  ;  and  the  country, 
forgetful  of  all  that  she  had  suffered,  was  at 
length  to  offer  the  spectacle  of  one  wide  and 
rejoicing  jubilee.     O  Death!  thou  hast  in- 
deed chosen  the  time  and  the  victim,  for 
demonstrating  the  grim  ascendancy  of  thy 


power  over  all  the  hopes  and  fortunes  o. 
our  species! — Our  bloomingJPrincess, whom 
fancy  had  decked  with  the  coronet  of  these 
realms,  and  under  whose  gentle  sway  all 
bade  so  fair  for  the  good  and  the  peace  of 
our  nation,  has  be  placed  upon  her  bier! 
And,  as  if  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  his  tri- 
umph, has  he  laid  by  her  side,  that  babe, 
who,  but  for  him,  might  have  been  the  mo- 
narch of  a  future  generation ;  and  he  has 
done  that,  which  by  no  single  achievement 
he  could  otherwise  have  accomplished — he 
has  sent  forth  over  the  whole  of  our  land, 
the  gloom  of  such  a  bereavement  as  cannot 
be  replaced  by  any  living  descendant  of 
royalty — he  has  broken  the  direct  succes- 
sion of  the  monarchy  of  England — by  one 
and  the  same  disaster,  has  he  wakened  up 
the  public  anxieties  of  the  country,  and  sent 
a  pang  as  acute  as  that  of  the  most  woful 
domestic  visitation,  into  the  heart  of  each 
of  its  families. 

In  the  prosecution  of  the  following  dis- 
course, as  I  have  already  stated,  I  shall  sa- 
tisfy myself  with  a  very  limited  application 
of  the  text.  I  shall,  in  the  first  place,  offer 
a  fvw  remarks  on  that  branch  of  the  righ- 
teousness of  practical  Christianity,  which 
consists  in  the  duty  that  subjects  owe  to 
their  governors.  And  in  the  second  place, 
I  shall  attempt  to  improve  the  pres<  nt  great 
national  disaster,  to  the  objeel  of  impressing 
upon  you,  that,  under  all  our  difficulties  and 
all  our  fears,  it  is  the  righteousness  of  the 
people  alone  which  will  exalt  and  perpetuate 
the  nation;  and  that  therefore,  if  this  great 
interest  be  neglected,  the  country,  instead 
of  reaping  improvement  from  the  judgments 
of  God,  is  in  imminent  danger  of  being 
utterly  overwhelmed  by  them. 

I.  But  here  let  me  attempt  the  difficult 
task  of  rightly  dividing  the  Word  of  truth — 
and  premise  this  head  of  discourse,  by  ad- 
mitting that  1'  know  nothing  more  hateful 
than  the  crouching  spirit  of  servility.  I 
know  not  a  single  class  of  men  more  un- 
worthy of  reverence,  than  the  base  and  in- 
terested minions  of  a  court.  I  know  not  a 
set  of  pretenders  who  more  amply  deserve 
to  be  held  out  to  the  chastisement  of  public 
scorn,  than  they  who,  under  the  guise  of 
public  principle,  are  only  aiming  at  per- 
sonal aggrandizement.  This  is  one  corrup- 
tion. But  let  us  not  forget  that  there  is  an- 
other— even  a  spurious  patriotism  which 
would  proscribe  loyalty  as  one  of  the  vir- 
tues altogether.  Now,  I  cannot  open  my 
Bible,  without  learning  that  loyalty  is  one 
branch  of  the  righteousness  of  practical 
Christianity. — I  am  not  seeking  to  please 
men.  but  God,  when  I  repeat  his  words  in 
your  hearing — that  you  should  honour  the 
King— that  you  should  obey  Magistrates — 
that  you  should  meddle  not  with  those  who 
are  given  to  change — that  you  should  be 
subject  to  principalities  and  powers — that 


232 


SERMON  ON  THE  DEATH   OF  THE  PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE. 


you  should  lead  a  quiet  and  peaceable  life 
in  all  godliness  and  honesty.  This,  then,  is 
a  purt  of  the  righteousness  which  it  is  our 
business  to  teach,  and  sure  I  am  that  it  is  a 
part  of  righteousness  which  the  judgment 
now  dealt  out  to  us,  should,  of  all  others, 
dispose  you  to  learn.  I  know  not  a  virtue 
more  in  harmony  with  the  present  feelings, 
and  afflictions,  and  circumstances  of  the 
country,  than  that  of  a  steadfast  and  deter- 
mined loyalty.  The  time  has  been,  when 
such  an  event  as  the  one  that  we  are  now 
assembled  to  deplore,  would  have  put  every 
restless  spirit  into  motion,  and  set  a  guilty 
ambition  upon  its  murderous  devices,  and 
brought  powerful  pretenders  with  their  op- 
posing hosts  of  vassalage  into  the  field,  and 
enlisted  towns  and  families  under  the  rival 
banners  of  a  most  destructive  fray  of  con- 
tention, and  thus  have  broken  up  the  whole 
peace  and  confidence  of  society.  Let  us 
bless  God  that  these  days  of  barbarism  are 
now  gone  by.  But  the  vessel  of  the  state  is 
still  exposed  to  many  agitations.  The  sea 
of  politics  is  a  sea  of  storms,  on  which  the 
gale  of  human  passions  would  make  her 
founder,  were  it  not  for  the  guidance  of  hu- 
man principle ;  and,  therefore,  the  truest 
policy  of  a  nation  is  to  christianize  her 
subjects,  and  to  disseminate  among  them 
the  influence  of  religion.  The  most  skilful 
arrangement  for  rightly  governing  a  state, 
is  to  scatter  among  the  governed,  not  the 
terrors  of  power — not  the  threats  of  jealous 
and  alarmed  authority — not  the  demonstra- 
tions of  sure  and  ready  vengeance  held 
forth  by  the  rigour  of  an  offended  law. 
These  may,  at  times,  be  imperiously  called 
for.  But  a  permanent  security  against  the 
wild  outbreakings  of  turbulence  and  disas- 
ter, is  only  to  be  attained  by  diffusing  the 
lessons  of  the  Gospel  throughout  the  great 
mass  of  our  population — even  those  lessons 
which  are  utterly  and  diametrically  at  anti- 
podes with  all  that  is  criminal  and  wrong 
in  the  spirit  of  political  disaffection.  The 
only  radical  counteraction  to  this  evil  is  to 
be  found  in  the  spirit  of  Christianity ;  and 
though  animated  by  such  a  spirit,  a  man 
may  put  on  the  intrepidity  of  one  of  the  old 
prophets,  and  denounce  even  in  the  ear  of 
royaltv  the  profligacies  which  may  disgrace 
or  deform  it — though  animated  by  such  a 
spirit,  he  may  lift  his  protesting  voice  in  the 
face  of  an  unchristian  magistracy,  and  tell 
them  of  their  errors — though  animated  by 
such  a  spirit,  he,  to  avoid  every  appearance 
of  evil,  will  neither  stoop  to  the  flattery  of 
power,  nor  to  the  solicitations  of  patronage 
— and  though  all  this  may  bear,  to  the  su- 
perficial eye,  a  hard,  and  repulsive,  and  hos- 
tile aspect  towards  the  established  dignities 
of  the  land — yet  forget  not,  that  if  a  real 
and  honest  principle  of  Christianity  lie  at 
the  root  of  this  spirit,  there  exists  within 
the  bosom  of  such  a  man,  a  foundation  of 


principle,  on  which  all  the  lessons  of  Chris- 
tianity will  rise  into  visible  and  consistent 
exemplification.  And  it  is  he,  and  such  as 
he,  who  will  turn  out  to  be  the  salvation  of 
the  country,  when  the  hour  of  her  threat- 
ened danger  is  approaching — and  it  is  just 
in  proportion  as  you  spread  and  multiply 
such  a  character,  that  you  raise  within  the 
bosom  of  the  nation,  the  best  security 
against  all  her  fluctuations — and,  as  in  every 
other  department  of  human  concerns,  so 
will  it  be  found,  that,  in  this  particular  de- 
partment, Christians  are  the  salt  of  the 
earth,  and  Christianity  the  most  copious 
and  emanating  fountain  of  all  the  guardian 
virtues  of  peace,  and  order,  and  patriotism. 
The  judgment  under  which  we  now  la- 
bour, supplies,  I  think,  one  touching,  and, 
to  every  good  and  christian  mind,  one 
powerful  argument  of  loyalty.  It  is  the 
distance  of  the  prince  from  his  people  which 
feeds  the  political  jealousy  of  the  latter,  and 
which,  by  removing  the  former  to  a  height 
of  inaccessible  grandeur,  places  him,  as  it 
were,  beyond  the  reach  of  their  sympathies. 
Much  of  the  political  rancour,  which  festers, 
and  agitates,  and  makes  such  a  tremendous 
appearance  of  noise  and  of  hostility  in  our 
land,  is  due  to  the  aggravating  power  of 
distance.  If  two  of  the  deadliest  political 
antagonists  in  our  country,  who  abuse,  and 
vilify,  and  pour  forth  their  stormy  elo- 
quence on  each  other,  whether  in  parlia- 
ment or  from  the  press,  were  actually  to 
come  into  such  familiar  and  personal  con- 
tact, as  would  infuse  into  their  controversy 
the  sweetening  of  mere  acquaintanceship, 
this  very  circumstance  would  disarm  and 
do  away  almost  all  their  violence.  The 
truth  is,  that  when  one  man  rails  against 
another  across  the  table  of  a  legislative  as- 
sembly, or  when  he  works  up  his  ferment- 
ing imagination,  and  pens  his  virulent  sen- 
tences against  another,  in  the  retirement  of 
a  closet — he  is  fighting  against  a  man  at  a 
distance — he  is  exhausting  his  strength 
against  an  enemy  whom  he  does  not  know 
— he  is  swelling  into  indignation,  and  into 
all  the  movements  of  what  he  thinks  right 
and  generous  principle,  against  a  chimera 
of  his  own  apprehension  ;  and  a  similar  re- 
action comes  back  upon  him  from  the  quar- 
ter that  he  has  assailed,  and  thus  the  con- 
troversy thickens,  and  the  delusion  every 
day  gets  more  impenetrable,  and  the  dis- 
tance is  ever  widening,  and  the  breach  is 
always  becoming  more  hopeless  and  more 
irreparable;  and  all  this  between  two  men, 
who,  if  they  had  been  in  such  accidental 
circumstances  of  juxta-position  as  could 
have  let  them  a  little  more  into  one  another's 
feelings,  and  to  one  another's  sympathies, 
would  at  least  have  had  all  the  asperities  of 
their  difference  smoothed  away  by  the  mere 
softenings  and  kindlinesses  of  ordinary  hu- 
man intercourse. 


SERMON  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE. 


233 


Now  let  me  apply  this  remark  to  the  mu- 
tual state  (if  sentiment  which  obtains  be- 
tween the  different  orders  of  the  community. 
Among  the  rich,  there  is  apt  at  times  to 
rankle  an  injurious  and  unworthy  impres- 
sion of  the  poor — and  just  because  these 
poor  stand  at  a  distance  from  them — just 
because  they  come  not  into  contact  with 
that  which  would  draw  them  out  into  cour- 
teousness  to  their  persons,  and  in  benevo- 
lent attentions  to  their  families.  Among 
the  poor,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  often  a 
disdainful  suspicion  of  the  wealthy,  as  if 
they  were  actuated  by  a  proud  indifference  to 
them  and  to  their  concerns,  and,  as  if  they 
were  placed  away  from  them  at  so  distant 
and  lofty  an  elevation  as  not  to  require  the 
exercise  of  any  of  those  cordialities,  which 
are  ever  sure  to  spring  in  the  bosom  of  man 
to  man,  when  they  come  to  know  each 
other,  and  to  have  the  actual  sight  of  each 
other.  But  let  any  accident  place  an  indi- 
vidual of  the  higher  before  the  eyes  of  the 
lower  order,  on  the  ground  of  their  common 
humanity — let  the  latter  be  made  to  see  that 
the  former  are  akin  to  themselves  in  all  the 
sufferings  and  in  all  the  sensibilities  of  our 
common  inheritance — let,  for  example,  the 
greatest  chieftain  of  the  territory  die,  and 
the  report  of  his  weeping  children,  or  of  his 
distracted  widow,  be  sent  through  the  neigh- 
bourhood— or  let  an  infant  of  his  family  be 
in  suffering,  and  the  mothers  of  the  humble 
vicinity  be  run  to  for  counsel  and  assist- 
ance— or  in  any  other  way  let  the  rich,  in- 
stead of  being  viewed  by  their  inferiors 
through  the  dim  and  distant  medium  of  that 
fancied  interval  which  separates  the  ranks 
of  society,  be  seen  as  heirs  of  the  same 
frailty,  and  as  dependent  on  the  same  sym- 
pathies with  themselves — and  at  that  mo- 
ment, all  the  floodgates  of  honest  sym- 
pathy will  be  opened — and  the  lowest  ser- 
vants of  the  establishment  will  join  in  the 
cry  of  distress  which  has  come  upon  their 
family — and  the  neighbouring  cottagers,  to 
share  in  their  grief,  have  only  to  recognise 
them  as  the  partakers  of  one  nature,  and  to 
perceive  an  assimilation  of  feelings  and  of 
circumstances  between  them. 

Let  me  further  apply  this  to  the  sons  and 
the  daughters  of  royalty.  The  truth  is, 
that  they  appear  to  the  public  eye  as  stalk- 
ing on  a  platform  so  highly  elevated  above 
the  general  level  of  society,  that  it  removes 
them,  as  it  were,  from  all  the  ordinary 
sympathies  of  our  nature.  And  though  we 
read  at  times  of  their  galas,  and  their  birth- 
days, and  their  drawing-rooms,  there  is 
nothing  in  all  this  to  attach  us  to  their  in- 
terests and  their  feelings,  as  the  inhabitants 
of  a  familiar  home — as  the  members  of  an 
affectionate  family.  Surrounded  as  they 
are  with  the  glare  of  a  splendid  notoriety, 
we  scarcely  recognize  them  as  men  and  as 
women,  who  can  rejoice,  and  weep,  and 
30 


pine  with  disease,  and  taste  the  sufferings 
of  mortality,  and  be  oppressed  with  anguish, 
and  love  with  tenderness,  and  experience 
in  their  bosoms  the  same  movements  of 
grief  or  of  affection  that  we  do  ourselves. 
And  thus  it  is,  that  they  labour  under  a 
real  and  heavy  disadvantage.  There  is  not 
in  their  case,  the  counteraction  of  that 
kindly  influence,  to  alleviate  the  weight  or 
the  malignity  of  prejudice,  which  men  of  a 
humbler  station  are  ever  sure  to  enjoy.  In  the 
case  of  a  man  whose  name  is  hardly  known 
beyond  the  limits  of  his  personal  acquain- 
tance, the  tale  of  calumny  that  is  raised 
against  him  extends  not  far  beyond  these 
limits ;  and,  therefore,  wherever  it  is  heard, 
it  meets  with  a  something  to  blunt  and  to 
soften  it,  in  those  very  cordialities  which 
the  familiar  exhibition  of  him  as  a  brother 
of  our  common  nature  is  fitted  to  awaken. 
But  it  is  not  so  with  those  in  the  elevated 
walks  of  society.  Their  names  are  familiar 
where  their  persons  are  unknown ;  and 
whatever  malignity  may  ttach  to  the  one, 
circulates  abroad,  and  is  spread  far  beyond 
the  limits  of  their  possible  intercourse 
with  human  beings,  and  meets  with  no 
kindly  counteraction  from  our  acquaintance 
with  the  other.  And  this  may  explain 
how  it  is,  that  the  same  exalted  person- 
age may,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  be  suf- 
fering under  a  load  of  most  unmerited  ob- 
loquy from  the  wide  and  the  general  pub- 
lic, and  be  to  all  his  familiar  domestics  an 
object  of  the  most  enthusiastic  devotedness 
and  regard. 

Now,  if  through  an  accidental  opening, 
the  public  should  be  favoured  with  a  do- 
mestic exhibition — if,  by  some  overpower- 
ing visitation  of  Providence  upon  an  illus- 
trious family,  the  members  of  it  should  come 
to  be  recognised  as  the  partakers  of  one 
common  humanity  with  ourselves — if,  in- 
stead of  beholding  them  in  their  gorgeous- 
ness  as  princes,  we  look  to  them  in  their 
natural  evolution  of  their  sensibilities  as 
men — if  the  stately  palace  should  be  turned 
into  a  house  of  mourning — in  one  word,  if 
death  should  do  what  he  has  already  done, 
he  has  met  the  Princess  of  England  in  the 
prime  and  promise  of  her  days,  and  as  she 
was  moving  onward  on  her  march  to  a  he- 
reditary throne,  he  has  laid  her  at  his  feet. 
Ah !  my  brethren,  when  the  imagination 
dwells  on  that  bed  where  the  remains  of 
departed  youth  and  departed  infancy  are 
lying — when,  instead  of  crowns  and  cano- 
pies of  grandeur,  it  looks  to  the  forlorn  hus- 
band, and  the  weeping  father,  and  the  hu- 
man feelings  which  agitate  their  bosom,  and 
the  human  tears  which  flow  down  their 
cheeks,  and  all  such  symptoms  of  deep  af- 
fliction as  bespeak  the  workings  of  suffer- 
ing and  dejected  nature — what  ought  to  be, 
and  what  actually  is,  the  feeling  of  the 
country  at  so  sad  an  exhibition  ?  It  is  just 


234 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE. 


the  feeling  of  the  domestics  and  the  labour- 
ers at  Claremont.  All  is  soft  and  tender  as 
womanhood.  Nor  is  there  a  peasant  in  our 
land,  who  is  not  touched  to  the  very  heart 
when  he  thinks  of  the  unhappy  Stranger 
who  is  now  spending  his  days  in  grief  and 
nights  in  sleeplessness — as  he  mourns  alone 
in  his  darkened  chamber,  and  refuses  to  be 
comforted — as  he  turns  in  vain  for  rest  to 
his  troubled  feelings,  and  cannot  find  it — as 
he  gazes  on  the  memorials  of  an  affection 
that  blessed  the  brightest,  happiest,  shortest 
year  of  his  existence — as  he  looks  back  on 
the  endearments  of  the  bygone  months,  and 
the  thought  that  they  have  for  ever  fleeted 
away  from  him,  turns  all  to  agony — as  he 
looks  forward  on  the  blighted  prospect  of 
this  world's  pilgrimage,  and  feels  that  all 
which  bound  him  to  existence,  is  now  torn 
irretrievably  away  from  him  !  There  is  not 
a  British  heart  that  does  not  feel  to  this  in- 
teresting visitor,  all  the  force  and  all  the 
tenderness  of  a  most  affecting  relationship ; 
and  go  where  he  may,  will  he  ever  be  recog- 
nised and  cherished  as  a  much  loved  mem- 
ber of  the  British  family. 

It  is  in  this  Avay  that  through  the  avenue 
of  a  nation's  tenderness,  we  can  estimate 
the  strength  and  the  steadfastness  of  a  na- 
tion's loyalty.  On  minor  questions  of  the 
constitution  we  may  storm  and  rave,  and 
look  at  each  other  a  little  ferociously — and 
it  was  by  some  such  appearance  as  this,  that 
he,  who  in  the  days  of  his  strength,  was  the 
foulest  and  most  formidable  of  all  our  ene- 
mies, said  of  the  country  in  which  we  live, 
that,  torn  by  factions,  it  was  going  rapidly 
to  dissolution.  Yet  these  are  but  the  skir- 
mishings of  a  petty  warfare — the  move- 
ments of  nature  and  of  passion,  in  a  land 
of  freemen — the  harmless  contests  of  men 
pulling  in  opposite  ways  at  some  of  the 
smaller  ropes  in  the  tackling  of  our  great 
national  vessel.  But  look  to  these  men  in 
the  time  of  need  and  the  hour  of  suffering — 
look  to  them  now,  when  in  one  great  and 
calamitous  visitation,  the  feeling  of  every 
animosity  is  overborne — look  to  them  now, 
when  the  darkness  is  gathering,  and  the 
boding  cloud  of  disaster  hangs  over  us,  and 
some  chilling  fear  of  insecurity  is  beginning 
to  circulate  in  whispers  through  the  land — 
look  to  them  now,  when  in  the  entombment 
of  this  sad  and  melancholy  day,  the  hopes 
of  more  than  half  a  century  are  to  be  in- 
terred— look  to  them  now,  when  from  one 
end  of  the  country  to  the  other,  there  is  the 
mourning  of  a  very  great  and  sore  lamenta- 
tion, so  that  all  who  pass  by,  may  say,  this 
is  a  grievous  mourning  to  the  people  of  the 
land.  Oh !  is  it  possible  that  these  can  be 
other  than  honest  tears,  or  that  tears  of  pity 
can  on  such  an  emergency  as  the  present, 
be  other  than  tears  of  patriotism.  Who 
does  not  see  this  principle  sitting  in  visible 
expression  on  the  general  countenance  of 


the  nation — that  the  people  are  sound  at 
heart,  and  that  with  this,  as  the  mainsheet  of 
our  dependence,  we  may  still,  under  the  bless- 
ing of  God,  weather  and  surmount  all  the 
difficulties  which  threaten  us. 

II.  I  now  proceed  to  the  second  head  of 
discourse,  under  which  I  was  to  attempt 
such  an  improvement  of  this  great  national 
disaster,  as  might  enforce  the  lesson,  that 
under  every  fear  and  every  difficulty,  it  is 
the  righteousness  of  the  people  alone  which 
will  exalt  and  perpetuate  a  nation ;  and 
that,  therefore,  if  this  great  interest  be  ne- 
glected, instead  of  learning  any  thing  from 
the  judgments  of  God,  we  are  in  immi- 
nent danger  of  being  utterly  overwhelmed 
by  them. 

Under  my  first  head  I  restricted  myself 
exclusively  to  the  virtue  of  loyalty,  which 
is  one  of  the  special,  but  I  most  willingly 
admit,  nay,  and  most  earnestly  contend,  is 
also  one  of  the  essential  attributes  of  righ- 
teousness. But  there  is  a  point  on  which  I 
profess  myself  to  be  altogether  at  an  issue 
with  a  set  of  men,  who  composed,  at  one 
time,  whatever  they  do  now,  a  very  nume- 
rous class  of  society.  I  mean  those  men, 
who,  with  all  the  ostentation,  and  all  the 
intolerance  of  loyalty,  evinced  an  utter  in- 
difference either  to  their  own  personal  reli- 
gion, or  to  the  religion  of  the  people  who  were 
around  them — who  were  satisfied  with  the 
single  object  of  keeping  the  neighbourhood 
in  a  state  of  political  tranquillity — who,  if 
they  could  only  get  the  population  to  be 
quiet,  cared  not  for  the  extent  of  profane- 
ness  or  of  profligacy  that  was  among  them — 
and  who,  while  they  thought  to  signalize 
themselves  in  the  favour  of  their  earthly 
king,  by  keeping  down  every  turbulent  01 
rebellious  movement  among  his  subjects, 
did,  in  fact,  by  their  own  conspicuous  ex- 
ample lead  them  and  cheer  them  on  in  their 
rebellion  against  the  king  of  heaven — and, 
as  far  as  the  mischief  could  be  wrought  by 
the  contagion  of  their  personal  influence, 
these  men  of  loyalty  did  what  in  them  lay, 
to  spread  a  practical  contempt  for  Chris- 
tianity, and  for  all  its  ordinances,  through- 
out the  land. 

Now,  I  would  have  such  men  to  under- 
stand, if  any  such  there  be  within  the  sphere 
of  my  voice,  that  it  is  not  with  their  loyalty 
that  I  am  quarrelling.  I  am  only  telling 
them,  that  this  single  attribute  of  righteous- 
ness will  never  obtain  a  steady  footing  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people,  except  on  the  ground 
of  a  general  principle  of  righteousness.  I 
am  telling  them  how  egregiously  they  are 
out  of  their  own  politics,  in  ever  thinking 
that  they  can  prop  the  virtue  of  loyalty  in 
a  nation,  while  they  are  busily  employed, 
by  the  whole  instrumentality  of  their  ex- 
ample and  of  their  doings,  in  sapping  the 
very  foundation  upon  which  it  is  reared.  I 
am  telling  them,  that  if  they  wish  to  sec 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE. 


235 


loyalty  in  perfection,  and  such  loyalty,  too, 
as  requires  not  any  scowling  vigilance  of 
theirs  to  uphold  it,  they  must  look  to  the 
most  moral,  and  orderly,  and  christianized 
districts  of  the  country.  1  am  merely  teach- 
ing them  a  lesson  of  which  they  seem  to  be 
ignorant,  that  if  you  loosen  the  hold  of 
Christianity  over  the  hearts  of  the  popula- 
tion, you  pull  down  from  their  ascendency 
all  the  virtues  of  Christianity,  of  which 
loyally  is  one.  Yes,  and  I  will  come  yet  a 
little  closer,  and  take  a  look  of  that  loyalty 
which  exists  in  the  shape  of  an  isolated 
principle  in  their  own  bosoms.  I  should 
like  to  gauge  the  dimensions  of  this  loyalty 
of  theirs,  in  its  state  of  disjunction  from  the 
general  principle  of  Christianity.  I  wish 
to  know  the  kind  of  loyalty  which  charac- 
terizes the  pretenders  to  whom  I  am  al- 
luding— the  men  who  have  no  value  for 
preaching,  but  as  it  stands  associated  with 
the  pageantry  of  state — the  men  who  would 
reckon  it  the  most  grievous  of  all  heresies, 
to  be  away  from  church  on  some  yearly 
day  of  the  king's  appointment,  but  are  sel- 
dom within  its  walls  on  the  weekly  day  of 
God's  appointment — the  men  who,  if  minis- 
ters were  away  from  their  post  of  loyalty, 
on  an  occasion  like  the  present,  would,  with- 
out mercy,  and  without  investigation,  de- 
nounce them  as  suspicious  characters;  but 
who,  when  we  are  at  the  post  of  piety, 
dispensing  the  more  solemn  ordinances  of 
Christianity,  openly  lead  the  way  in  that 
crowded  and  eager  emigration  which  car- 
ries half  the  rank  and  opulence  of  the  town 
away  from  us.  What,  oh !  what  is  the 
length,  and  the  breadth,  and  the  height,  and 
the  depth  of  this  vapouring,  swaggering, 
high-sounded  loyalty? — It  is  nothing  better 
than  the  loyalty  of  political  subalterns,  in 
the  low  game  of  partisanship,  or  of  whip- 
pers-in  to  an  existing  administration — it  is 
not  the  loyalty  which  will  avail  us  in  the  day 
of  danger — it  is  not  to  them  that  we  need  to 
look,  in  the  evil  hour  of  a  country's  visita- 
tion ; — but  to  those  right-hearted,  sound- 
thinking  christian  men,  who,  without  one 
interest  to  serve,  or  one  hope  to  forward, 
honour  their  king,  because  they  fear  their 
God. 

Let  me  assure  such  a  man,  if  such  a  man 
there  is  within  the  limits  of  this  assembly — 
that,  keen  as  his  scent  may  he  after  political 
heresies,  the  deadliest  of  all  such  heresies 
lies  at  his  own  door — that  there  is  not  to  be 
found,  within  the  city  (if  our  habitation,  a 
rettener  member  of  the  community  than 
himself — that,  withering  as  he  does  by  his 
example  the  principle  which  lies  at  the  root 
of  all  national  prosperity,  it  is  he,  and  such 
as  lie,  who  stands  opposed  to  the  best  and 
ne  dearest  objects  of  loyalty — and  if  ever 
that  shall  happen,  which  it  is  my  most  de- 
light fid  confidence  that  Cod  will  avert  from 
us  and  from  our  children's  children  to  the 


latest  posterity — if  ever  the  wild  frenzy  of 
revolution  shall  run  through  the  ranks  of 
Britain's  population,  these  are  the  men  who 
will  be  the  most  deeply  responsible  for  all  its 
atrocities  and  for  all  its  horrors.* 


*  I  cannot  but  advert  hero  to  a  delicate  impedi- 
ment which  lies  in  the  way  of  the  faithful  exercise 
of  the  ministerial  functions,  from  the  existence  of 
two  great  political  parties,  which  would  monopo- 
lize between  them,  ;ill  the  sentiments  and  ali  the 
services  of  the  country.  Is  it  not  a  very  possible 
thing  that  the  line  of  demarcation  between  these 
parties,  may  not  coalesce,  throughout  all  its  extent, 
with  the  sacred  and  immutable  line  of  distinction 
between  right  and  wrong? — and  ought  not  this 
latter  line  to  stand  out  so  clearly  and  so  promi- 
nently to  the  eye  of  the  christian  minister,  that  in 
the  act  of  dealing  around  him  the  reproofs  and  the 
lessons  of  Christianity,  the  former  line  should  be 
away  from  his  contemplation  altogether  ?  But  it 
is  thus  that,  with  the  most  scrupulous  avoidance 
both  of  the  one  and  of  the  other  species  of  partisan 
ship,  he  may,  in  the  direct  and  conscientious  dis- 
charge of  the  duties  of  his  office,  deliver  himself  in 
such  a  way  as  to  give  a  kind  of  general  and  corpo- 
rate offence  to  one  political  denomination ;  and 
what  is  still  more  grievous,  as  to  be  appropriated 
by  the  men  of  another  denomination,  with  whom 
in  their  capacity  as  politicians  he  desires  no  fellow- 
ship whatever,  and  whose  applauses  of  him  in  this 
capacity  are  in  every  way  most  odious  and  insuf- 
ferable. 

It  appears  to  us  that  a  christian  minister  cannot 
keep  himself  in  the  true  path  of  consistency  at  all, 
without  refusing  to  each  of  the  parties  all  right  of 
appropriation.  Their  line  of  demarcation  is  not 
his  line.  Their  objects  are  not  his  objects.  He 
asks  no  patronage  from  the.  one — he  asks  no  favour 
from  the  other,  except  that  they  shall  not  claim 
kindred  with  him.  He  may  suffer,  at  times,  from 
the  intolerance  of  the  unworthy  underlings  of  the 
former  party  :  but  never  will  his  sensations  of  dis- 
taste, for  the  whole  business  of  party  politics,  be- 
come so  intense  and  so  painful,  as  when  the  hosan- 
nas  of  the  hitter  party  threaten  to  rise  around  him. 
We  often  hear  from  each,  and  more  particularly 
from  one  of  these  parties,  of  the  virtue  and  the 
dignity  of  independence.  The  only  way;  it  appears 
to  us,  in  which  a  man  can  sustain  the  true  and 
complete  character  of  independence,  is  to  be  inde- 
pendent of  both.  He  who  cares  for  neither  of  them 
is  the  only  independent  man;  and  to  him  only  be- 
longs the  privilege  of  crossing  and  re-crossing  their 
factious  line  of  demarcation,  just  as  be  feels  himsell 
impelled  by  the  high,  paramount,  and  subordinating 
principles  of  the  Christianity  which  he  professes. 
In  the  exercise  of  this  privilege,  1  here  take  the 
opportunity  of  saying,  that  if  the  chastisement  of 
public  scorn  should  fall  on  those  who,  under  the 
disguise  of  public  principle,  have  found  persona] 
aggrandisement  for  themselves,  it  should  fall  with 
equal  severity  on  those  who,  under  the  same  dis- 
guise, are  seeking  precisely  the  same  object — that 
it  there  be  some  men  in  the  country  who  care  not 
for  the  extent  of  profaneness  and  prolligacy  that 
is  among  the  people,  provided  they  can  only  keep 
then  i  quiet,  then'  are  also  some  men  who  care  not  for 
their  profaneness  or  their  prolligacy,  provided  they 
can  only  keep  them  unquiet — who  bear  no  other 
regard  to  the  people  than  merely  as  an  instrument 
of  annoyance  against  an  existing  administration — 
who  can  shed  their  serpent  tears  over  their  dis- 
tresses, and  yet  be  inwardly  grieved,  should  either 


236 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE. 


Having  thus  briefly  adverted  to  one  of 
the  causes  of  impiety  and  consequent  dis- 
loyalty, I  shall  proceed  to  offer  a  few  re- 
marks on  the  great  object  of  teaching  the 
people  righteousness,  not  so  much  in  a 
general  and  didactic  manner,  as  in  the  way 
of  brief,  and,  if  possible,  of  memorable  illus- 
tration— gathering  my  argument  from  the 
present  event,  and  availing  myself,  at  the 
same  time,  of  such  principles  as  have  been 
advanced  in  the  course  of  the  preceding  ob- 
servations. 

My  next  remark,  then,  on  this  subject, 
will  be  taken  from  a  sentiment,  of  which  I 
think  you  must  all  on  the  present  occasion 


a  favourable  season  or  reviving  trade  disappoint 
their  boding  speculation — who,  m  the  face  of  un- 
deniable common  sense,  can  ascribe  to  political 
causes,  such  calamities  as  are  altogether  due  to 
what  is  essential  and  uncontrollable  in  the  circum- 
stances of  the  country — and  who,  if  on  the  strength 
of  misrepresentation  and  artifice  they  could  only 
succeed  in  effecting  the  great  object  of  their  own 
instalment  into  office,  and  dispossession  of  their 
antagonists,  would  prove  themselves,  then,  to  be 
as  indifferent  to  the  comfort,  as  they  show  them- 
selves now  to  be  utterly  indifferent  to  the  religion 
and  the  virtue  of  the  country's  population. 

But  turning  away  from  the  beggarly  elements 
of  such  a  competition  as  this,  let  us  remark,  that 
on  the  one  hand,  a  religious  administration  will 
never  take  offence  at  a  minister  who  renders  a  per- 
tinent reproof  to  any  set  of  men,  even  though  they 
should  happen  to  be  their  own  agents  or  their  own 
underlings ;  and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  a  minis- 
ter who  is  actuated  by  the  true  spirit  of  his  office, 
will  never  so  pervert  or  so  prostitute  his  functions, 
as  to  descend  to  the  humble  arena  of  partisanship. 
He  is  the  faithful  steward  of  such  things  as  are 
profitable  for  reproof,  and  for  doctrine,  and  for  cor- 
rection, and  for  instruction  in  righteousness.  His 
single  object  with  the  men  who  are  within  reach 
of  his  hearing,  is,  that  they  should  come  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  truth  and  be  saved.  In  the  ful- 
filment of  this  object,  he  is  not  the  servant  of  any 
administration — though  he  certainly  renders  such 
a  service  to  the  state  as  will  facilitate  the  work  of 
governing  to  all  administrations — as  will  bring  a 
mighty  train  of  civil  and  temporal  blessings  along 
with  it — and  in  particular,  as  will  diffuse  over  the 
whole  sphere  of  his  influence,  a  loyalty  as  steadfast 
as  the  friends  of  order,  and  as  free  from  every  taint 
of  political  severity,  as  the  most  genuine  friends  of 
freedom  can  desire. 

There  is  only  one  case  in  which  it  is  conceived 
that  this  partisanslup  of  a  christian  minister  is  at 
all  justifiable.  Should  the  government  of  our  coun- 
try ever  fall  into  the  hands  of  an  infidel  or  demi- 
infidel  administration — should  the  men  at  the  helm 
of  affairs  be  the  patrons  of  all  that  is  unchristian 
in  the  sentiment  and  literature  of  the  country — 
should  they  oiler  a  violence  to  its  religious  esta- 
blishments— and  thus  attempt  what  we  honestly 
believe  would  reach  a  blow  to  the  piety  and  the 
character  of  our  population — then  I  trust  that  the 
language  of  partisanship  will  resound  from  many 
of  the  pulpits  of  the  land — and  that  it  will  be 
turned  in  one  stream  of  pointed  invective  against 
such  a  ministry  as  this — till,  by  the  force  of  public 
opinion,  it  be  swept  away  as  an  intolerable  nui- 
sance, from  the  face  of  our  kingdom. 


feel  the  force  and  the  propriety.  Would  it 
not  have  been  most  desirable  could  the 
whole  population  of  the  city  have  been  ad- 
mitted to  join  in  the  solemn  services  of  the 
day  1  Do  you  not  think  that  they  are  pre- 
cisely such  services  as  would  have  spread 
a  loyal  and  patriotic  influence  among  them  1 
Is  it  not  experimentally  the  case,  that,  over 
the  untimely  grave  of  our  fair  Princess,  the 
meanest  of  the  people  would  have  shed  as 
warm  and  plentiful  a  tribute  of  honest  sen- 
sibility as  the  most  refined  and  delicate 
among  us?  And,  I  ask,  is  it  not  unfortu- 
nate, that,  on  the  day  of  such  an  affecting, 
and,  if  I  may  so  style  it,  such  a  national 
exercise,  there  should  not  have  been  twenty 
more  churches,  with  twenty  more  minis- 
ters, to  have  contained  the  whole  crowd  of 
eager  and  interested  listeners  ?  A  man  of 
mere  loyalty,  without  one  other  accomplish- 
ment, will,  I  am  sure,  participate  in  a  regret 
so  natural;  but  couple  this  regret  with  the 
principle,  that  the  only  way  in  which  the 
loyalty  of  the  people  can  effectually  be 
maintained,  is  on  the  basis  of  Christianity, 
and  then  the  regret  in  question  embraces 
an  object  still  more  general — and  well  were 
it  for  us,  if,  amid  the  insecurity  of  families, 
and  the  various  fluctuations  of  fortune  and 
of  arrangement  that  are  taking  place  in  the 
highest  walks  of  society,  the  country  were 
led,  by  the  judgment  with  which  it  has  now- 
been  visited,  to  deepen  the  foundation  of 
all  its  order  and  of  all  its  interests,  in  the 
moral  education  of  its  people.  Then  indeed 
the  text  would  have  its  literal  fulfilment. 
When  the  judgments  of  God  are  in  the 
earth,  the  rulers  of  the  world  would  lead 
the  inhabitants  thereof  to  learn  righteous- 
ness. 

In  our  own  city,  much  in  this  respect 
remains  to  be  accomplished ;  and  I  speak 
of  the  great  mass  of  our  city  and  suburb 
population,  when  I  say,  that  through  the 
week  they  lie  open  to  every  rude  and  ran- 
dom exposure — and  when  Sabbath  comes, 
no  solemn  appeal  to  the  conscience,  no  stir- 
ring recollections  of  the  past,  no  urgent 
calls  to  resolve  against  the  temptations  of 
the  future,  come  along  with  it.  It  is  unde- 
niable, that  within  the  compass  of  a  few 
square  miles,  the  daily  walk  of  the  vast  ma- 
jority of  our  people  is  beset  with  a  thousand 
contaminations ;  and  whether  it  be  on  the 
way  to  the  market,  or  on  the  way  to  the 
workshop,  or  on  the  way  to  the  crowded 
manufactory,  or  on  the  way  to  any  one  re- 
sort of  industry  that  you  may  choose  to 
condescend  upon,  or  on  the  way  to  the 
evening  home,  where  the  labours  of  a  vir- 
tuous day  should  be  closed  by  the  holy 
thankfulness  of  a  pious  and  affectionate 
family ;  be  it  in  passing  from  one  place  to 
another ;  or  be  it  amid  all  the  throng  of  se- 
dentary occupations :  there  is  not  one  day 
of  the  six,  and  not  one  hour  of  one  of  these 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE. 


237 


days,  when  frail  and  unsheltered  man  is  not 
plied  by  the  many  allurements  of  a  world 
lying  in  wickedness — when  evil  communi- 
cations are  not  assailing  him  with  their  cor- 
ruptions— when  the  full  tide  of  example 
does  not  bear  down  upon  his  purposes,  and 
threaten  to  sweep  all  his  purity  and  all  his 
principle  away  from  him.     And  when  the 
seventh  day  comes,  where,  I  would  ask,  are 
the  efficient  securities  that  ought  to  be  pro- 
vided against  all  those  inundations  of  profli- 
gacy which  rage  without  control  through 
the  week,  and  spread  such  a  desolating  influ- 
ence anions  the  morals  of  the  existing  gene- 
ration ? — Oh  !  tell  it  not  in  Gath,  publish  it 
not  in  the  streets  of  Askelon — this  seventh 
day,  on  which  it  would  require  a  whole 
army  of  labourers  to  give  every  energy 
which  belongs  to  them,  to  the  plenteous 
harvest  of  so  mighty  a  population,  witnesses 
more  than  one  half  of  the  people  precluded 
from  attending  the  house  of  God,  and  wan- 
dering every  man  after  the  counsel  of  his 
own  heart,  and  in  the  sight  of  his  own  eyes — 
on  this  day,  the  ear  of  heaven  is  assailed 
with  a  more  audacious  cry  of  rebellion  than 
on  any  other,  and  the  open  door  of  invita- 
tion plies  with  its  welcome  the  hundreds 
and  the  thousands  who  have  found  their 
habitual  way  to  the  haunts  of  depravity. 
And  is  there  no  room,  then,  to  wish  for 
twenty  more  churches,  and  twenty  more 
ministers — for  men  of  zeal  and  of  strength, 
who  might  go  forth  among  these  wanderers, 
and  compel  them  to  come  in — for  men  of 
holy  fervour,  who  might  set  the  terrors  of 
hell  and  the  free  offer  of  salvation  before 
them — for  men  of  affection,  who  might  visit 
the  sick,  the  dying,  and  the  afflicted,  and 
cause  the  irresistible  influence  of  kindness 
to  circulate  at  large  among  their  families — 
for  men,   who,  while  they  fastened   their 
most  intense  aim  on  the  great  object  of  pre- 
paring sinners  for  eternity,  would  scatter 
along  the  path  of  their  exertions  all  the 
blessings  of  order,  and   contentment,  and 
sobriety,  and  at  length  make  it  manifest  as 
day,  that  the  righteousness  of  the  people  is 
the  only  effectual  antidote  to  a  country's 
ruin — the  only  path  to  a  country's  glory? 
My  next  remark  shall  be  founded  on  a 
principle  to  which  I  have  already  alluded — 
the  desirableness  of  a  more  frequent  inter- 
course between  the  higher  and  the  lower 
orders  of  society ;  and  what  more  likely  to 
accomplish  this,  than  a  larger  ecclesiastical 
accommodation  ? — not  the  scanty  provision 
of  the  present  day,  by  which  the  poor  are 
excluded  from  the  church  altogether,  but 
such  a  wide  and  generous  system  of  ac- 
commodation, as  that  the  rich  and  the  poor 
might  set  in  company  together  in  the  house 
of  God.      It   is   this  christian   fellowship, 
which  more  than  any  other  tie,  links  so  in- 
timately together,  the  high  and  the  low  in 
country  parishes.     There  is,  however,  an- 


other particular  to  which  I  would  advert, 
and  though  I  cannot  do  so  without  magni- 
fying my  office,  yet  I  know  not  a  single 
circumstance  which  so  upholds  the  goldei? 
line  of  life  among  our  agricultural  popula- 
tion, as  the  manner  in  which  the  gap  be- 
tween the  pinnacle  of  the  community  and 
its  base  is  filled  up  by  the  week-day  duties 
of  the  clergyman — by  that  man,  of  whom 
it  has  been  well  said,  that  he  belongs  to  no 
rank,  because  he  associates  with  all  ranks — 
by  that  man,  whose  presence  may  dignify 
the  palace,  but  whose  peculiar  glory  it  is  to 
carry  the  influences  of  friendship  and  piety 
into  cottages. 

This  is  the  age  of  moral  experiment,  and 
much  has  been  devised  in  our  day  for  pro- 
moting the  virtue,   and  the  improvement, 
and  the  economical  habits  of  the  lower  or- 
ders of  society.     But  in  all  these  attempts 
to  raise  a  barrier  against  the  growing  profli- 
gacy of  our  towns,  one  important, element 
seems  to  have  passed  unheeded,   and   to 
have  been  altogether  omitted  in  the  calcu- 
lation.    In  all  the  comparative  estimates  of 
the  character  of  a  town  and  the  character 
of  a  country  population,  it  has  been  little 
attended   to,   that  the   former  are  distin- 
guished from  the  latter  by  the  dreary,  hope- 
less,  and    almost    impassible    distance  at 
which  they  stand  from  their  parish  minis- 
ter.    Now,  though  it  be  at  the  hazard  of 
again  magnifying  my  office,  I  must  avow, 
in  the  hearing  of  you  all,  that  there  is  a 
moral  charm  in  his  personal  attentions  and 
his  affectionate  civilities,  and  the  ever-recur- 
ring influence  of  his  visits  and  his  prayers, 
which,  if  restored  to  the  people,  would  im- 
part  a  new  moral  aspect,  and   eradicate 
much  of  the  licentiousness  and   the  dis- 
honesty that  abound  in  our  cities.     On  this 
day  of  national  calamity,  if  ever  the  subject 
should  be  adverted  to  from  the  pulpit,  we 
may  be  allowed  to  express  our  riveted  con- 
victions on  the  close  alliance  that  obtains 
between  the  political  interests  and  the  reli- 
gious character  of  a  country.     And  I  am 
surely  not  out  of  place,  when,  on  looking 
at  the  mighty  mass  of  a  city  population,  I 
state  my  apprehension,  that  if  something 
be  not  done  to  bring  this  enormous  physical 
strength  under  the  control  of  christian  and 
humanized  principle,  the  day  may  yet  come 
when  it  may  lift  against  the  authorities  of 
the  land  its  brawny  vigour,  and  discharge 
upon  them  all  the  turbulence  of  its  rude  and 
volcanic  energy. 

Apart  altogether  from  the  essential  cha- 
racter of  the  gospel,  and  keeping  out  of 
view  the  solemn  representations  of  Chris- 
tianity, by  which  we  are  told  that  each  in- 
dividual of  these  countless  myriads  carries 
an  undying  principle  in  his  bosom,  and 
that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  minister  to  che- 
rish it,  and  to  watch  over  it,  as  one  who 
must  render,  at  the  judgment-seat,  an  ac- 


238 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE. 


j,  count  of  the  charge  which  has  been  com- 
mitted to  him — apart  from  this  considera- 
tion entirely,  which  I  do  not  now  insist 
upon,  though  I  blush  not  to  avow  its  para- 
mount importance  over  all  that  can  be  al- 
leged on  the  inferior  ground  of  political 
expediency,  yet,  on  that  ground  alone,  I 
can  gather  argument  enough  for  the  mighty 
importance  of  such  men,  devoted  to  the  la- 
bours of  their  own  separate  and  peculiar 
employments — giving  an  unbevvildered  at- 
tention to  the  office  of  dealing  with  the 
hearts  and  principles  of  the  thousands  who 
are  around  them — coming  forth  from  the 
preparations  of  an  unbroken  solitude,  arm- 
ed with  all  the  omnipotence  of  Truth 
among  their  fellow  citizens — and  who,  rich 
in  the  resources  of  a  mind  which  meditates 
upon  these  things,  and  gives  itself  wholly  to 
them,  are  able  to  suit  their  admonitions  to 
all  the  varieties  of  human  character,  and  to 
draw  their  copious  and  persuasive  illustra- 
tions from  every  quarter  of  human  ex- 
perience. But  I  speak  not  merely  of  their 
Sabbath  ministrations.  Give  to  each  a  ma- 
nageable extent  of  town  within  the  com- 
pass of  his  personal  exertions,  and  where 
he  might  be  able  to  cultivate  a  ministerial 
influence  among  all  its  families — put  it  into 
his  power  to  dignify  the  very  humblest  of 
its  tenements  by  the  courteousness  of  his 
soothing  and  benevolent  attentions — let  it 
be  such  a  district  of  population  as  may  not 
bear  him  down  by  the  multiplicity  of  its 
demands ;  but  where,  without  any  feverish 
or  distracting  variety  of  labour,  he  may  be 
able  to  familiarize  himself  to  every  house, 
and  to  know  every  individual,  and  to  visit 
every  spiritual  patient,  and  to  watch  every 
death-bed.  and  to  pour  out  the  sympathies 
of  a  pious  and  affectionate  bosom  over  every 
mourning  and  bereaved  family.  Bring  every 
city  of  the  land  under  such  moral  regimen 
as  this,  and  another  generation  would  not 
pass  away,  ere  righteousness  ran  down  all 
their  streets  like  a  mighty  river.  That  sul- 
len depravity  of  character,  which  the  gib- 
bet cannot  scare  away,  and  which  sits  so 
immoveable  in  the  face  of  the  most  me- 
nacing severities,  and  in  despite  of  the 
yearly  recurrence  of  the  most  terrifying  ex- 
amples,— could  not  keep  its  ground  against 
the  mild,  but  restless  application  of  an  ef- 
fective christian  ministry.  The  very  worst 
of  men  would  be  constrained  to  feel  the 
power  of  such  an  application.  Sunk  as 
they  are  in  ignorance,  and  inured  as  they 
have  been  from  the  first  years  of  their 
neglected  boyhood,  to  scenes  of  week-day 
profligacy  and  Sabbath  profanation — these 
men,  of  whom  it  may  be  said,  that  all  their 
moralities  are  extinct,  and  all  their  tender- 
ness blunted — even  they  would  feel  the 
power  of  that  reviving  touch,  which  the 
mingled  influence  of  kindness  and  piety 
can  often  impress  on  the  souls  of  the  most 


abandoned — even  they  would  open  the 
flood-gates  of  their  hearts,  and  pour  forth 
the  tide  of  an  honest  welcome  on  the  men 
who  had  come  in  all  the  cordiality  of  good 
will  to  themselves  and  to  their  families. 
And  thus  might  a  humanizing  and  an 
exalting  influence  be  made  to  circulate 
through  all  their  dwelling-places:  and  such 
a  system  as  this,  labouring  as  it  must  do  at 
first,  under  all  the  discouragements  of  a 
heavy  and  unpromising  outset,  would  ga- 
ther, during  every  year  of  its  perseverance, 
new  triumphs  and  new  testimonies  to  its 
power.  All  that  is  ruthless  and  irreclaim- 
able, in  the  character  of  the  present  day, 
would  in  time  be  replaced  by  the  softening 
virtues  of  a  purer  and  a  better  generation. 
This  I  know  to  be  the  dream  of  many  a 
philanthropist:  and  a  dream  as  visionary 
as  the  very  wildest  among  the  fancies  of 
Utopianism  it  ever  will  be,  under  any  other 
expedient  than  the  one  I  am  now  pointing 
to :  and  nothing,  nothing  within  the  whole 
compass  of  nature,  or  of  experience,  will 
ever  bring  it  to  its  consummation,  but  the 
multiplied  exertions  of  the  men  who  carry 
in  their  hearts  the  doctrine,  and  who  bear 
upon  their  persons  the  seal  and  commis- 
sion of  the  New  Testament.  And,  if  it  be 
true  that  towns  are  the  great  instruments 
of  political  revolution — if  it  be  there  that 
all  the  elements  of  disturbance  are  ever 
found  in  busiest  fermentation — if  we  learn, 
from  the  history  of  the  past,  that  they 
are  the  favourite  and  frequented  rallying- 
places  for  all  the  brooding  violence  of  the 
land — who  does  not  see  that  the  pleading 
earnestness  of  the  christian  minister  is  at 
one  with  the  soundest  maxims  of  political 
wisdom,  when  he  urges  upon  the  rulers  and 
magistrates  of  the  land,  that  this  is  indeed 
the  cheap  defence  of  a  nation — this  the  vi- 
tality of  all  its  strength  and  of  all  its  great- 
ness. 

And  it  is  with  the  most  undissem^ed  sa- 
tisfaction that  I  advert  to  the  first  step  of 
such  a  process,  within  the  city  of  our  ha- 
bitation, as  I  have  now  been  recommend- 
ing. It  may  still  be  the  day  of  small  things; 
but  it  is  such  a  day  as  ought  not  to  be  de- 
spised. The  prospect  of  another  church 
and  another  labourer  in  this  interesting 
field,  demands  the  most  respectful  acknow- 
ledgement of  the  christian  public,  to  the 
men  who  preside  over  the  administration 
of  our  affairs;  and  they,  I  am  sure,  will 
not  feel  it  to  be  oppressive,  if,  met  by  the 
willing  cordialities  of  a  responding  popula- 
tion, the  demand  should  ring  in  their  ears  for 
another,  and  another,  till,  like  the  moving 
of  the  spirit  on  the  face  of  the  waters,  which 
made  beauty  and  order  to  emerge  out  of 
the  rude  materials  of  creation,  the  germ  of 
moral  renovation  shall  at  length  burst  into 
all  the  efflorescence  of  moral  accomplish 
ment — and  the  voice  of  psalms  shall  again 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE. 


239 


be  heard  in  our  families— and  impurity  and 
violence  shall  be  banished  from  our  streets 
— and  then  the  erasure  made,  in  these  de- 
generate days,  on  the  escutcheons  of  our  city, 
again  replaced  in  characters  of  gold,  shall 
tell  to  every  stranger,  that  Glasgow  flourish- 
eth  through  the  preaching  of  the  word.* 

And  though,  under  the  mournful  remem- 
brance of  our  departed  Princess,  we  can- 
not but  feel,  on  this  day  of  many  tears,  as 

*  The  original  motto  of  the  City  is,  "  Let  Glas- 
gow flourish  through  the  preaching  of  the  Word ;" 
which,  by  the  curtailment  alluded  to,  has  been  re- 
duced to  the  words,  "Let  Glasgow  flourish." 


if  a  volley  of  lightning  from  heaven  had 
been  shot  at  the  pillar  of  our  State,  and 
struck  away  the  loveliest  ornament  from  its 
pinnacle,  and  shook  the  noble  fabric  to  its 
base ;  yet  still,  if  we  strengthen  its  founda- 
tion in  the  principle  and  character  of  our 
people,  it  will  stand  secure  on  the  deep  and 
steady  basis  of  a  country's  worth,  which 
can  never  be  overthrown.  And  thus  an 
enduring  memorial  of  our  Princess  will  be 
embalmed  in  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and 
good  will  emerge  out  of  this  dark  and  bitter 
dispensation,  if,  when  the  judgments  of  God 
are  in  the  earth,  the  inhabitants  of  the 
world  shall  learn  righteousness. 


THE 

DOCTRINE  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY 

APPLIED  TO  THE 
CASE  OF  RELIGIOUS  DIFFERENCES. 

A  SERMON, 

PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  AUXILIARY  SOCIETY,  GLASGOW,  TO  THE  HIBERNIAN 

SOCIETY,  FOR  ESTABLISHING  SCHOOLS,  AND  CIRCULATING  THE  HOLY 

SCRIPTURES  IN  IRELAND. 


PREFACE. 


If  the  question  were  put,  what  is  Popery  ?  an  answer  might  be  given  by  the 
enumeration  of  what  are  conceived  to  be  its  leading  principles.  Without  at  all 
inquiring  whether  the  conception  be  a  just  one  or  not,  there  are  many  persons 
who  would  tell  us,  that  the  members  of  this  denomination  ascribe  an  infallibility 
to  the  Pope ;  and  that  they  hold  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation  ;  and  that  they 
offer  religious  worship  to  departed  saints,  and  render  an  external  homage  to 
images;  and  that  they  give  such  an  importance  to  the  ceremonial  of  extreme 
unction,  as  to  conceive,  that  by  the  administration  of  it,  all  the  guilt  of  the  most 
worthless  and  unrenewed  character  is  expiated  and  done  away. — It  is  enough 
to  mark  our  aversion  to  these  positions  and  practices,  that  we  say,  that  every  one 
of  them  is  unscriptural ;  and  that,  if  this  be  a  real  portraiture  of  Popery,  it  is  a 
religion  which  has  no  foundation  in  truth  or  in  the  Bible.  But  it  is  altogether  a 
different  question,  in  how  far  Popery,  as  thus  defined,  is  actually  realized  by  those 
men  who  wear  the  name  and  the  profession  of  it.  Whether  this  was  ever  the 
Popery  of  a  past  age,  is  a  question  of  erudition,  into  which  we  propose  not  to 
enter.  And  whether  this  be  the  Popery  of  any  people  of  the  present  age,  is  a 
question  of  observation,  into  which  we  propose  not  to  enter.  We  confine  our- 
selves to  the  object  of  looking  into  our  own  hearts,  and  of  looking  to  those  who 
are  immediately  around  us,  with  the  view  of  ascertaining  whether  the  contamina- 
tion and  the  substantial  mischief  of  these  alleged  principles  might  not  be  detected 
on  a  nearer  field  of  observation. 

We  are  all  aware  that  such  an  attempt  as  this  is  not  enough  to  satisfy  many 
Protestants,  or  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  their  zeal  against  what  they  hold  to  be  a 
most  blasphemous  and  pestilential  heresy.  They  would  not  merely  demand  the 
disavowal  of  a  corrupt  system — but  they  would  like  to  see  it  attached  with  all  its 
deformities  in  the  form  of  a  personal  charge  to  the  men  of  a  certain  prominent  and 
visible  denomination.  Now,  we  do  not  see  how  the  former  demand  can  be  more 
effectually  met,  than  by  the  denunciation  of  this  system,  under  whatever  shape, 
or  in  whatever  quarter  of  society,  it  may  be  found. — Nor  do  we  conceive  how  a 
more  honest  and  decisive  seal  of  reprobation  can  be  set  upon  it,  than  by  the  ex- 
pression of  a  dislike  so  strong  and  so  irreconcilable,  as  to  be  felt,  even  when  it 
obtrudes  upon  our  notice  any  of  its  features  amongst  the  individuals  of  our  own 
connexion,  and  offers  itself  to  view  under  the  screen  of  an  ostensible  Protestant- 
ism. As  to  the  latter  demand,  we  frankly  confess  that  we  are  not  historically 
enough  acquainted  with  the  present  state  of  the  Catholic  mind,  to  be  at  all  able 


DOCTRINE  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY,  &C. 


241 


to  comply  with  it.  But  should  any  member  of  that  persuasion  come  forward  witn 
his  own  explanations,  and  give  such  a  mitigated  view  of  the  peculiarities  of  Catho- 
lics, as  to  leave  the  great  evangelical  doctrines  of  faith  and  repentance  unimpaired 
by  them,  and  state  that  an  averment  of  the  Bible  has  never,  in  his  instance,  been 
neutralized  or  practically  stript  of  its  authority,  by  an  averment  of  Popes  or  of 
Councils; — on  what  principle  of  candour  shall  the  recognition  of  a  common  Chris- 
tianity be  withheld  from  him  ?  Is  it  not  better  to  confine  our  animadversion  to 
the  principles  of  the  system,  and  to  let  persons  alone  :  and  if  these  persons  shall 
step  forward  with  the  affirmation  that  the  system  is  imaginary,  or  that,  at  least,  it 
has  no  actual  residence  with  them,  whether  is  it  the  more  Christian  exhibition  on 
our  part,  that  we  exercise,  in  their  behalf,  the  charity  which  believeth  all  things, 
or  that  we  pertinaciously  keep  by  a  charge,  the  truth  of  which  they  solemnly 
disclaim  ? 


SERMON. 


"  And  why  behoklest  thou  the  mote  that  is  in  thy  brother's  eye,  but  considerest  not  the  beam  that  is  in 
thine  own  eye? — Or  how  wilt  thou  say  to  thy  brother,  Let  me  pull  out  the  mote  out  of  thine  eye;  and  behold 
a  beam  is  in  thine  own  eye  ? — Thou  hypocrite  !  first  east  out  the  beam  out  of  thine  own  eye,  and  then 
shall  thou  see  clearly  to  cast  out  the  mote  out  of  thy  brother's  eye." — Matthew  vii.  3,  4,  5. 


The  word  beam  suggests  the  idea  of  a 
rafter ;  and  it  looks  very  strange  that  a  thing 
of  such  magnitude  should  be  at  all  con- 
ceived to  have  its  seat  or  fixture  in  the  eye. 
To  remove,  by  a  single  sentence,  this  mis- 
apprehension, I  shall  just  say,  that  the 
word  in  the  original  signifies  also  a  thorn, 
a  something  that  the  eye  has  room  for,  but 
at  the  same  time  much  larger  than  a  mote, 
and  which  must,  therefore,  have  a  more 
powerful  effect  in  deranging  the  vision,  and 
preventing  a  man  from  forming  a  right  es- 
timate of  the  object  he  is  looking  at.  Take 
this  along  with  you,  and  the  three  verses 
will  run  thus:— Why  beholdcst  thou  the 
mote  that  is  in  thy  brother's  eye,  but  con- 
siderest not  the  thorn  that  is  in  thine  own 
eye  ?  Or  how  wilt  thou  say  to  thy  brother, 
Let  me  pull  out  the  mote  out  of  thine  eye: 
and  behold  a  thorn  is  in  thine  own  eye? 
Thou  hypocrite!  first  cast  out  the  thorn  out 
of  thine  own  eye,  and  then  shalt  thou  see 
clearly  to  cast  out  the  mote  out  of  thy  bro- 
ther's eye." 

In  my  farther  observations  on  this  pas- 
age,  I  shall  first  introduce  what  I  propose 
o  make  the  main  subject  of  my  discourse, 
by  a  very  short  application  of  the  leading 
principle  of  my  text,  to  the  case  of  those 
judgments  that  we  are  so  ready  to  pro- 
nounce on  each  other  in  private  life.  And 
I  shall,  secondly,  proceed  to  the  main  sub- 
ject, viz.  that  more  general  kind  of  judg- 
ment which  we  are  apt  to  pass  on  the  men 
of  a  different  persuasion,  in  matters  of  re- 
ligion. 

I.  Every  fault  of  conduct  in  the  outer 
man,  may  be  run  up  to  some  defect  of  prin- 
ciple in  the  inner  man.     It  is  this  defect 
of  principle,  which  gives  the  fault  all  its 
31 


criminality.  It  is  this  alone,  which  makes  it 
odious  in  the  sight  of  God.  It  is  upon  this 
that  the  condemnation  of  the  law  rests; 
and  on  the  day  of  judgment,  when  the  se- 
crets of  all  hearts  shall  be  laid  open,  it  will 
be  the  share  that  the  heart  had  in  the  mat- 
ter, which  will  form  the  great  topic  of  ex- 
amination, when  the  deeds  done  in  the 
body  pass  under  the  review  of  the  Son  of 
God.  For  example,  it  is  a  fault  to  speak  evil 
one  of  another  ;  but  the  essence  of  the  fault 
lies  in  the  want  of  that  charity  which 
thinketh  no  ill.  Had  the  heart  been  filled 
with  this  principle,  no  such  bad  thing  as 
slander  would  have  come  out  of  it ;  but  if 
the  heart  be  not  filled  with  this  principle, 
and  in  its  stead  there  be  the  operation  of 
envy — or  a  desire  to  avenge  yourselves  of 
others,  by  getting  the  judgment  of  men  to 
go  against  them — or  a  taste  for  the  ludi- 
crous, which  rather  than  be  ungratified, 
will  expose  the  peculiarities  of  the  absent 
to  the  mirth  of  a  company — or  the  idle  and 
thoughtless  levity  of  gossiping,  which  can- 
not be  checked  by  any  consideration  of  the 
mischief  that  may  be  done  by  its  indul- 
gence ;  I  say,  if  any  or  all  of  these,  take  up 
that  room  in  the  heart,  which  should  have 
been  filled  with  charity,  and  sent  forth  the 
fruits  of  it,  then  the  stream  will  just  be  as 
the  fountain,  and  out  of  the  treasure  of  the 
evil  heart,  there  will  flow  that  evil  practice 
of  censoriousness,  on  which  the  gospel  of 
Christ  pronounces  its  severe  and  decisive 
condemnation. 

But  though  all  evil-speaking  be  referable 
to  the  want  of  a  good,  or  to  the  existence 
of  an  evil  principle  in  the  heart,  yet  there 
is  one  style  of  evil-speaking  different  from 
another ;  am1  you  can  easily  conceive  how  a 


242 


DOCTRINE  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY,  &C. 


man  addicted  to  one  way  of  it,  may  hate, 
and  despise,  and  have  a  mortal  antipathy, 
to  another  way  of  it.  In  this  case,  it  is  not 
the  thing  itself  in  its  essential  deformity 
that  he  condemns ;  it  is  some  of  the  dis- 
gusting accompaniments  of  the  thing  ;  and 
while  these  excite  his  condemnation,  and 
he  views  the  man  in  whom  they  are  real- 
ized, as  every  way  worthy  of  being  repro- 
bated, he  may  not  be  aware,  all  the  while, 
that  in  himself  there  exists  an  equal,  and 
perhaps  a  much  larger  portion  of  that  very 
principle,  which  he  should  be  reprobated 
for.  The  forms  of  evil-speaking  break  out 
into  manifold  varieties.  There  is  the  soft 
insinuation.  There  is  the  resentful  outcry. 
There  is  the  manly  and  indignant  disap- 
proval. There  is  the  invective  of  vulgar 
malignity.  There  is  the  poignancy  of  sa- 
tirical remark.  There  is  the  giddiness  of 
mere  volatility,  which  trips  so  carelessly 
along,  and  spreads  its  entertaining  levities 
over  a  gay  and  light-hearted  party.  These 
are  all  so  many  transgressions  of  one  and 
the  same  duty ;  and  you  can  easily  con- 
ceive an  enlightened  Christian  sitting  in 
judgment  over  them  all,  and  taking  hold  of 
the  right  principle  upon  which  he  would 
condemn  them  all ;  and  which,  if  brought 
to  bear  with  efficacy  on  the  consciences  of 
the  different  offenders,  would  not  merely 
silence  the  passionate  evil-speaker  out  of 
his  outrageous  exclamations,  and  restrain 
the  malignant  evil-speaker  from  his  delibe- 
rate thrusts  at  the  reputation  of  the  absent ; 
but  would  rebuke  the  humorous  evil-speaker 
out  of  his  fanciful  and  amusing  sketches, 
and  the  gossiping  evil-speaker  out  of  his 
tiresome  and  never-ending  narratives.  Now 
you  may  further  conceive,  how  a  man  who 
realizes  upon  his  own  character  one  of 
these  varieties,  might  have  a  positive  dislike 
to  another  of  them ;  how  the  open  and 
generous-hearted  denouncer  of  what  is 
wrong,  may  hate  from  his  very  soul  the 
poison  of  a  sly  and  secret  insinuation ;  how 
he  who  delivers  himself  in  the  chastened 
and  well-bred  tone  of  a  gentleman,  may 
recoil  from  the  violence  of  an  unmannerly 
invective  ;  how  he  who  enjoys  the  ridicu- 
lous of  character,  may  be  hurt  and  offended 
at  hearing  of  the  criminal  of  character ; — 
and  thus  each,  with  the  thorn  in  his  own 
eye,  may  advert  with  regret  and  disappro- 
bation to  the  mote  in  his  brother's  eye. 

Now,  mark  the  two  advantages  which 
arise  from  every  man  bringing  himself  to  a 
strict  examination,  that  he  may  if  possible 
find  out  the  principle  of  that  fault  in  his 
own  mind,  which  he  conceives  to  deform 
the  doings  and  the  character  of  another. 
His  attention  is  carried  away  from  the 
mere  accompaniment  of  the  fault  to  its  ac- 
tual and  constituting  essence.  He  pursues 
his  search  from  the  outward  and  accidental 
varieties,  to  the  one  Drinciple  which  spreads 


the  leaven  of  iniquity  over  them  all.  By 
looking  into  his  own  heart,  he  is  made  ac 
quainted  with  the  movements  of  this  prin- 
ciple. When  forced  to  disapprove  of  others, 
his  disapprobation  is  not  a  mere  matter  of 
taste,  or  of  education,  but  the  entire  and 
well-founded  disapprobation  of  principle 
He  sees  where  the  radical  mischief  of  the 
whole  business  lies.  He  sees  that  if  the 
principle  of  doing  no  ill  were  established 
within  the  heart,  it  would  cut  up  by  the 
root  all  evil-speaking  in  all  its  shapes  and 
in  all  its  modifications.  His  own  diligent 
keeping  of  his  own  heart  upon  this  subject 
would  bring  the  matter  into  his  frequent 
contemplation,  and  enable  him  to  perceive 
where  its  essence  and  its  malignity  lay,  and 
give  him  an  enlightened  judgment  of  it  in 
all  its  effects  and  Avorkings  upon  others ; 
and  thus,  by  the  very  progress  of  struggling 
against  it,  and  watching  against  it,  and  pray- 
ing against  it,  and  the  strength  of  divine 
grace  prevailing  against  it,  and  at  length  suc- 
ceeding in  pulling  the  thorn  out  of  his  own 
eye,  he  would  see  clearly  to  cast  out  the 
mote  out  of  his  brother's  eye. 

But  another  mighty  advantage  of  this  self- 
examination  is,  that  the  more  a  man  does  ex- 
amine the  more  does  he  discover  the  infirmi- 
tiesofhisown character.  That  very  infirmity 
against  which,  in  another,  he  might  have 
protested  with  all  the  force  of  a  vehement 
indignation, he  might  find  lurking  in  his  own 
bosom,  though  under  the  disguise  of  a  dif- 
ferent form.  Such  a  discovery  as  this  will 
temper  his  indignation.  It  will  humble 
him  into  the  meekness  of  wisdom.  It  will 
soften  him  into  charity.  It  will  infuse  a  can- 
dour and  a  gentleness  into  all  his  judg 
ments.  The  struggle  he  has  had  with  him- 
self to  keep  down  the  sin  he  sees  in  an- 
other, will  train  him  to  an  indulgence  he 
might  never  have  felt,  had  he  been  altoge- 
ther blind  to  the  diseases  of  his  own  moral 
constitution.  When  he  tries  to  reform  a 
neighbour,  the  attempt  will  be  marked  by 
all  the  mildness  of  one  who  is  deeply  con- 
scious of  his  own  frailties,  and  fearful  of 
the  exposures  which  he  himself  may  have 
to  endure.  And  I  leave  it  to  your  own  ex- 
perience of  human  nature  to  determine, 
whether  he  bids  fairer  for  success  who  re- 
bukes with  the  intolerant  tone  of  a  man 
who  is  unconscious  of  his  own  blemishes ; 
or  he  who,  with  all  the  spirituality  of  a 
humble  and  exercised  Christian,  endea- 
vours to  restore  him  who  is  overtaken  in 
a  fault,  with  the  spirit  of  meekness,  "  con- 
sidering himself  lest  he  also  be  tempted." 

Now,  the  fault  of  evil-speaking  is  only  one 
out  of  the  many.  The  lesson  of  the  text 
might  be  farther  illustrated  by  other  cases 
and  other  examples.  I  might  specify  the 
various  forms  of  worldliness,  and  wilful 
ness,  and  fraud,  and  falsehood,  and  profa- 
nity, and  show  how  the  man  who  realizes 


DOCTRINE  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY,  &C. 


243 


these  sins  in  one  form  might  pass  his  con- 
demnatory sentence  on  the  man  who  rea- 
lizes the  very  same  sins  in  another  form ; 
and  I  might  succeed  in  saying  to  the  con- 
viction of  his  conscience,  even  as  Nathan 
said  to  David,  "  Thou  art  the  man ;"  and 
might  press  home  upon  him  the  mighty 
task  of  self-examination,  and  set  him  from 
that  to  the  task  of  diligent  reform,  that  he 
might  be  enabled  to  see  the  fault  of  his 
neighbour  more  clearly,  and  rebuke  it  more 
gently,  and  winningly,  and  considerately. 
But  my  time  restrains  me  from  expatiat- 
ing; and  however  great  my  reluctance  at 
being  withdrawn  from  the  higher  office  of 
dealing  with  the  hearts  and  the  consciences 
of  individuals,  to  any  other  office,  which, 
however  good  in  itself,  bears  a  most  minute 
and  insignificant  proportion  to  the  former, 
yet  I  must  not  forget  that  I  stand  here  as 
the  advocate  of  a  public  Society; — and  I 
therefore  propose  to  throw  the  remainder 
of  my  discourse  into  such  a  train  of  observ- 
ation as  may  bear  upon  its  designs  and  its 
enterprises. 

II.  I  now  proceed,  then,  to  the  more  ge- 
neral kind  of  judgment  which  we  are  apt  to 
pass  on  men  of  a  different  persuasion  in 
matters  of  religion. — There  is  something  in 
the  very  circumstance  of  its  being  a  differ- 
ent religion  from  our  own,  which,  prior  to 
all  our  acquaintance  with  its  details,  is  cal- 
culated to  repel  and  to  alarm  us.  It  is  not 
the  religion  in  which  we  have  been  edu- 
cated. It  is  not  the  religion  which  fur- 
nishes us  with  our  associations  of  sacred- 
ness.  Nay,  it  is  a  religion,  which,  if  admitted 
into  our  creed,  would  tear  asunder  all  these 
associations.  It  would  break  up  all  the  re- 
pose of  our  established  habits.  It  would 
darken  the  whole  field  of  our  accustomed 
contemplations.  It  would  put  to  flight  all 
those  visions  of  the  mind  which  stood  link- 
ed with  the  favour  of  God,  and  the  blissful 
prospects  of  eternity.  It  would  unsettle,  and 
disturb,  and  agitate;  and  this,  not  merely 
because  it  threw  a  doubtfulness  over  the 
question  of  our  personal  security,  but  be- 
cause it  shocked  our  dearest  feelings  of  ten- 
derness for  that  which  we  had  been  trained 
to  love,  and  of  veneration  for  that  which 
we  had  been  trained  to  look  at  in  the  aspect 
of  awful  and  imposing  solemnity. 

Add  to  all  this,  the  circumstance  of  its 
being  a  religion  with  the  intolerance  of 
which  our  fathers  had  to  struggle  unto  the 
death  ;  a  religion  which  lighted  up  the  fires 
of  persecution  in  other  days;  a  religion, 
which  at  one  time  put  on  a  face  of  terror,  and 
bathed  its  hands  in  the  blood  of  cruel  mar- 
tyrdom ;  a  religion,  by  resistance  to  which, 
the  men  of  a  departed  generation  are  em- 
balmed in  the  memory  of  the  present, 
among  the  worthies  of  our  established  faith. 
We  have  only  to  contemplate  the  influence 
of  these  things,  when  handed  down  by  tra- 


dition, and  written  in  the  most  popular  his 
tories  of  the  land,  and  told  round  the  even 
ing  fire  to  the  children  of  every  cottage 
family,  who  listen,  in  breathless  wonder- 
ment, to  the  tale  of  midnight  alarm,  and 
kindle  at  the  battle-cry  lifted  by  the  pa- 
triots of  a  former  age,  when  they  made 
their  noble  stand  for  the  outraged  rights 
of  conscience  and  of  liberty  ;  we  have  only 
to  think  of  these  things,  and  we  shall  cease 
our  amazement,  that  such  a  religion,  even 
though  its  faults  and  its  merits  be  equally 
unknown,  should  light  up  a  passionate 
aversion  in  many  a  bosom,  and  have  a  re- 
coiling sense  of  horror,  and  sacrilege,  and 
blasphemy  associated  with  its  very  name. 

Now  Popery  is  just  such  a  religion  ;  and 
I  appeal  to  many  present,  if,  though  igno- 
rant of  almost  all  its  doctrines  and  all  its 
distinctions,  there  does  not  spring  up  a 
quickly  felt  antipathy  in  their  bosoms  even 
at  the  very  mention  of  Popery.  There  can 
be  no  doubt,  that  for  one  or  two  genera- 
tions, this  feeling  has  been  rapidly  on  the 
decline.  But  it  still  lurks,  and  operates, 
and  spreads  a  very  wide  and  sensible  infu- 
sion over  the  great  mass  of  our  Scottish 
population.  There  is  now  a  dormancy 
about  it,  and  it  does  not  break  out  into  those 
rude  and  tumultuary  surges,  which  at  one 
time  filled  our  streets  with  violence,  and 
sent  a  firmament  of  jealousy  and  alarm 
over  the  whole  face  of  our  country.  But 
we  still  meet  with  the  traces  of  its  existence. 
We  feel  it  in  our  bosoms  when  we  hear  of 
any  of  the  ceremonials  of  Popery ;  and  I  just 
ask  you  to  think  of  those  peculiar  sensations 
which  rise  within  you  at  the  mention  of 
the  holy  water,  or  the  consecrated  wafer, 
or  the  extreme  unction  of  the  Catholic 
ritual.  There  is  still  a  sensation  of  repug- 
nance, though  it  be  dim,  and  in  its  painful- 
ness  it  be  rapidly  departing  away  from  us ; 
and  I  think  that,  even  at  this  hour,  should 
a  Popish  Chapel  send  up  its  lofty  minarets 
and  spread  a  rich  and  expanded  magnifi- 
cence before  the  public  eye,  though  many 
look  with  unmingled  delight  on  the  gran- 
deur of  the  ascending  pile,  yet  there  may 
still  be  detected  a  visible  expression  of 
jealousy  and  offence  in  the  sidelong  glance, 
and  the  inward  and  half-suppressed  mur- 
muring of  the  occasional  passenger. 

Now,  is  it  not  conceivable  that  such  a 
traditional  repugnance  to  Popery  may  exist 
in  the  very  same  mind,  with  a  total  igno- 
rance of  what  those  things  are  for  which 
it  merits  our  repugnance  ?  May  there  not 
be  a  kind  of  sensitive  recoil  in  the  heart 
against  this  religion,  while  the  understand- 
ing is  entirely  blind  to  those  alone  features 
which  justify  our  dislike  to  it  ?  May  there 
not  be  all  the  violence  of  antipathy  within 
us  at  Popery,  and  there  be  at  the  same 
time  within  us  all  the  faults  and  all  the  errors 
of  Popery  ?    May  not  the  thorn  be  in  our 


244 


DOCTRINE  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY,  &C. 


own  eye,  while  the  mote  in  oiy  neighbour's 
eye  is  calling  forth  all  the  severity  of  our 
indignation  ?  While  we  are  sitting  in  the 
chair  of  judgment,  and  dealing  forth  from 
the  eminence  of  a  superior  discernment, 
our  invectives  against  what  we  think  to  be 
sacrilegious  in  the  creed  and  practice  of 
others,  may  it  not  be  possible  to  detect  in 
ourselves  the  same  perversion  of  principle, 
the  same  idolatrous  resistance  to  truth  and 
righteousness  ;  and  surely,  it  well  becomes 
us  in  this  case,  while  we  are  so  ready  to 
precipitate  our  invectives  upon  the  head  of 
by-standers,  to  pass  a  humbling  examina- 
tion upon  ourselves,  that  we  may  come  to 
a  more  enlightened  estimate  of  that  which 
is  the  object  of  our  condemnation ;  and  that 
when  we  condemn,  we  may  do  it  with  wis- 
dom, and  with  the  meekness  of  wisdom. 

Let  us  therefore  take  a  nearer  look  of 
Popery,  and  try  to  find  out  how  much  of 
Popery  there  is  in  the  religion  of  Protes- 
tants. 

But,  let  it  be  premised,  that  many  of  the 
disciples  of  this  religion  disclaim  much  of 
what  we  impute  to  them  ;  that  the  Popery 
of  a  former  age  may  not  be  a  fair  specimen 
of  the  Popery  of  the  present ;  that,  in  point 
of  fact,  many  of  its  professors  have  evinced 
all  the  spirit  of  devout  and  enlightened 
Christians ;  that  in  many  districts  of  Popery, 
the  Bible  is  in  full  and  active  circulation ; 
and  that  thus,  while  the  name  and  exter- 
nals are  retained,  and  waken  up  all  our  tra- 
ditional repugnance  against  it,  there  may 
be,  among  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands 
of  its  nominal  adherents,  all  the  soul,  and 
substance,  and  principle,  and  piety  of  a  re- 
formed faith.  When  I  therefore  enumerate 
the  errors  of  Popery,  I  do  not  assert  the 
extent  to  which  they  exist.  I  merely  say 
that  such  errors  are  imputed  to  them  ;  and 
instead  of  launching  forth  into  severities 
against  those  who  are  thus  charged,  all  I 
propose  is,  to  direct  you  to  the  far  more 
profitable  and  Christian  employment  of 
shaming  ourselves  out  of  these  very  errors, 
that  we  may  know  how  to  judge  of  others, 
and  that  we  may  do  it  with  the  tenderness 
of  charity. 

First,  then,  it  is  said  of  Papists,  that  they 
ascribe  an  infallibility  to  the  Pope,  so  that 
if  he  were  to  say  one  thing  and  the  Bible 
another,  his  authority  would  carry  it  over 
the  authority  of  God.  And,  think  you,  my 
brethren,  that  there  is  no  such  Popery 
among  you  ?  Is  there  no  taking  of  your 
religion  upon  trust  from  another,  when 
you  should  draw  it  fresh  and  unsullied 
from  the  fountain-head  of  inspiration  ?  You 
all  have,  or  you  ought  to  have  Bibles  ;  and 
how  often  is  it  repeated  there,  "  Hearken 
diligently  unto  me  ?"  Now,  do  you  obey 
this  requirement,  by  making  the  reading 
of  your  Bible  a  distinct  and  earnest  exer- 
cise ?    Do  you  ever  dare  to  bring  your  fa- 


vourite minister  to  the  tribunal  of  the  word, 
or  would  you  tremble  at  the  presumption 
of  such  an  attempt;  so  that  the  hearing  of 
the  word  carries  a  greater  authority  over 
your  mind  than  the  reading  of  the  word. 
Now  this  want  of  daring,  this  trembling  at 
the  very  idea  of  a  dissent  from  your  minis- 
ter, this  indolent  acquiescence  in  his  doc- 
trine, is  just  calling  another  man  master; 
it  is  putting  the  authority  of  man  over  the 
authority  of  God  ;  it  is  throwing  yourself 
into  a  prostrate  attitude  at  the  footstool  of 
human  infallibility;  it  is  not  just  kissing  the 
toe  of  reverence,  but  it  is  the  profounder 
degradation  of  the  mind  and  of  all  its  facul- 
ties ;  and  without  the  name  of  Popery — 
that  name  which  lights  up  so  read}'  an  an- 
tipathy in  your  bosoms,  your  soul  may  be 
infected  with  the  substantial  poison,  and 
your  conscience  be  weighed  down  by  the 
oppressive  shackles,  of  Popery.  And  all 
this,  in  the  noonday  effulgence  of  a  protest- 
ant  country,  where  the  Bible,  in  your  mo- 
ther tongue,  circulates  among  all  your 
families — where  it  may  be  met  with  in  al- 
most every  shelf,  and  is  ever  soliciting  you 
to  look  to  the  wisdom  that  is  inscribed 
upon  its  pages.  O  !  how  tenderly  should 
we  deal  with  the  prejudices  of  a  rude  and 
uneducated  people,  who  have  no  Bibles, 
and  no  art  of  reading  among  them,  to  un- 
lock its  treasures,  when  we  think  that,  even 
in  this  our  land,  the  voice  of  human  au- 
thority carries  so  mighty  an  influence  along 
with  it,  and  veneration  for  the  word  of  God 
is  darkened  and  polluted  by  a  blind  venera- 
tion for  its  interpreters. 

We  tremble  to  read  of  the  fulminations 
that  have  issued  in  other  days  from  a  conclave 
of  cardinals. — Have  we  no  conclaves,  and 
no  fulminations,  and  no  orders  of  inquisition, 
in  our  own  country  ?  Is  there  no  professing 
brotherhood,  or  no  professing  sisterhood,  to 
deal  their  censorious  invectives  around 
them,  upon  the  members  of  an  excommu- 
nicated world  ?  There  is  such  a  thing  as  a 
religious  public.  There  is  a  "  little  flock," 
on  the  one  hand,  and  a  "world  lying  in 
wickedness,"  on  the  other.  But  have  a 
care,  ye  who  think  yourselves  of  the  favour- 
ed few,  how  you  never  transgress  the  mild- 
ness, and  charity,  and  unostentatious  vir- 
tues of  the  gospel ;  lest  you  hold  out  a  dis- 
torted picture  of  Christianity  in  your  neigh- 
bourhood, and  impose  that  as  religion  on 
the  fancy  of  the  credulous,  which  stands  at 
as  wide  a  distance  from  the  religion  of  the 
New  Testament,  as  do  the  services  of  an 
exploded  superstition,  or  the  mummeries  of 
an  antiquated  ritual. 

But,  again,  it  is  said  of  Papists,  that  they 
hold  the  monstrous  doctrine  of  transubstan- 
tiation.  Now,  a  doctrine  may  be  monstrous 
on  two  grounds.  It  may  be  monstrous  on 
the  ground  of  its  absurdity,  or  it  may  bo 
monstrous  on  the  ground  of  its  impiety.    It 


DOCTRINE  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY,  &C. 


245 


must  have  a  most  practically  mischievous 
effect  on  the  conscience,  should  a  commu- 
nicant sit  down  at  the  table  of  the  Lord ; 
and  think  that  the  act  of  appointed  remem- 
brance is  equivalent  to  a  real  sacrifice,  and 
a  real  expiation ;  and  leave  the  performance 
with  a  mind  unburdened  of  all  its  past  guilt, 
and  resolved  to  incur  fresh  guilt  to  be  wiped 
away  by  a  fresh  expiation.  But  in  the 
sacrament  of  our  own  country,  is  there  no 
crucifying  of  the  Lord  afresh?  Is  there 
none  of  that  which  gives  the  doctrine  of 
transubstantiation  all  its  malignant  influence 
on  the  hearts  and  lives  of  its  proselytes?  Is 
there  no  mysterious  virtue  annexed  to  the 
elements  of  this  ordinance?  Instead  of  be- 
ing repaired  to  for  the  purpose  of  recruit- 
ing our  languid  affections  to  the  Saviour, 
and  strengthening  our  faith,  and  arming  us 
with  a  firmer  resolution,  and  more  vigorous 
purpose  of  obedience,  does  the  conscience 
of  no  communicant  solace  itself  by  the 
mere  performance  of  the  outward  act,  and 
suffer  him  to  go  back  with  a  more  reposing 
security  to  the  follies,  and  vices,  and  indul- 
gences of  the  world?  Then,  my  brethren, 
his  erroneous  view  of  the  sacrament  may 
not  he  clothed  in  a  term  so  appalling  to  the 
hearts  and  the  feelings  of  Protestants  as 
transubstantiation,  but  to  it  belongs  all  the 
immorality  of  transubstantiation;  and  the 
thorn  must  be  pulled  out  of  his  eye,  ere  he 
can  see  clearly  to  cast  the  mote  out  of  his 
brother's  eye. 

Cut,  thirdly,  it  is  said,  that  Papists  wor- 
ship saints,  and  fall  down  to  graven 
images.  This  is  very,  very  bad.  "  Thou 
shalt  worship  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  him 
only  shalt  thou  serve."  Hut  let  us  take 
ourselves  to  task  upon  this  charge  also. 
Have  we  no  consecrated  names  in  the  an- 
nals of  reformation — no  worthies  who  hold 
too  commanding;  a  place  in  the  remem- 
brance and  affection  of  Protestants?  Are 
there  no  departed  theologians,  whose  works 
hold  too  domineering  an  ascendency  over 
the  faith  and  practice  of  Christians?  Are 
there  no  laborious  compilations  of  other 
days,  which  instead  of  interpreting  the  Bi- 
ble, have  given  its  truths  a  shape,  and  a 
form,  and  an  arrangement,  thai  confer  upon 
them  another  impression,  and  impart  to 
them  another  influence,  from  the  pure  and 
original  record?  We  may  not  bend  the 
knee  in  any  sensible  chamber  of  imagery, 
at  the  remembrance  of  favourite  saints. 
Hut  do  we  not  bend  the  understanding  be- 
fore the  volumes  of  favourite  authors,  and 
do  a  homage  to  those  representations  of 
the  minds  of  the  men  of  other  days,  which 
should  be  exclusively  given  to  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  mind  of  the  Spirit,  as  put 
down  in  the  book  id' the  Spirit's  revelation  ? 
It  is  right  thai  each  of  us  should  give  the 
contribution  of  his  own  talents,  and  disown 
learning,  to  this  most  interesting  cause ;  birt 


let  the  great  drift  of  our  argument  be  to 
prop  the  authority  of  the  Bible,  and  to  turn 
the  eye  of  earnestness  upon  its  pages ;  for 
if  any  work,  instead  of  exalting  the  Bible, 
shall  be  made,  by  the  misjudging  reverence 
of  others,  to  stand  in  its  place,  then  we  in- 
troduce a  false  worship  into  the  heart  of  a 
reformed  country,  and  lay  prostrate  the 
conscience  of  men,  under  the  yoke  of  a 
spurious  authority. 

But,  fourthly  and  lastly — for  time  does 
not  permit  such  an  enumeration  as  would 
exhaust  all  the  leading  peculiarities  ascrib- 
ed to  this  faith — it  is  stated,  that  by  the 
form  of  a  confession,  in  the  last  days  of  a 
sinner's  life,  and  the  ministration  of  extreme 
unction  upon  his  death-bed,  he  may  be 
sent  securely  to  another  world,  with  all  the 
unrepented  profligacy,  and  fraud,  and  wick- 
edness of  this  world  upon  his  forehead; 
that  this  is  looked  forward  to,  and  counted 
upon  by  every  Catholic— and  sets  him  loose 
from  all  those  anticipations  which  work 
upon  the  terror  of  other  men — and  throws 
open  to  him  an  unbridled  career,  through 
the  whole  of  which,  be  may  wanton  in  all 
the  varieties  of  criminal  indulgence — and 
at  length,  when  death  knocks  at  his  door,  if 
he  just  allow  him  time  to  send  for  his  minis- 
ter, and  to  hurry  along  with  him  through 
the  steps  of  an  adjusted  ceremonial,  the 
man's  passage  through  that  dark  vale, 
which  carries  him  out  of  the  world,  is  strew- 
ed with  the  promises  of  delusion— that 
every  painful  remembrance  of  the  past  is 
stifled  amid  the  splendours  and  the  juggle- 
ries of  an  imposing  ritual :  and  in  place  of 
conscience  rising  upon  him,  and  charging 
him  with  the  guilty  track  of  disobedience 
he  has  run,  and  forcing  him  to  flee,  amid 
the  agitations  of  his  restless  bed,  to  the 
blood  of  the  great  Atonement,  and  alarming 
him  into  an  earnest  cry  for  the  clean  heart 
and  the  right  spirit,  knowing  that  unless  he 
be  born  again  unto  repentance,  he  shall 
perish — why,  my  brethren,  instead  of  these 
salutary  exercises,  we  are  told,  that  a  ficti- 
tious hope  is  made  to  pour  its  treacherous 
sunshine  into  the  bosom  of  a  deceived 
Catholic— that,  when  standing  on  the  verge 
of  eternity,  he  can  cast  a  fearless  eye  over 
its  dark  and  untravelled  vastness — and  that, 
for  the  terror  of  its  coming  wrath,  his  -unity 
and  unrenewed  soul  is  rilled  with  all  the 
radiance  and  all  the  elevation  of  its  antici- 
pated glories. 

O!  my  brethren,  it  is  piteous  to  think  of 
such  a  preparation,  but  it  is  just  such  a  pre- 
paration as  meets  the  sad  experience  of  us 
all.  The  man.  whose  every  affection  has 
clung  to  the  world,  till  the  last  hour  of  his 
possibility-  to  enjoy  it;  who  never  put  forth 
an  effort  or  a  prayer  to  be  delivered  from 
the  power  of  sin,  till  every  faculty  of  its 
pleasures  had  expired;  who,  through  the 
-aried  progress  of  his  tastes  and  his  desires 


246 


DOCTRINE  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY,  &C. 


from  amusement  to  dissipation,  and  from 
dissipation  to  business,  had  always  a  some- 
thing in  all  the  successive  stages  of  his  ca- 
reer, to  take  up  his  heart  to  the  exclusion 
of  him  who  formed  it ; — why,  such  a  man, 
who  never  thought  of  pressing  the  lessons 
of  the  minister  upon  his  conscience,  while 
life  was  vigorous,  and  the  full  swing  of  its 
delights  and  occupations  could  be  indulged 
in, — do  we  never  find,  even  in  the  bosom  of 
this  reformed  country,  that  while  his  body 
retains  all  its  health,  his  spirit  retains  all  its 
hardihood;  and  not  till  the  arrival  of  that 
week,  or  that  month,  or  that  year,  when  the 
last  messenger  begins  to  alarm  him,  does 
he  think  of  sending  to  the  man  of  God,  an 
humble  supplicant  for  his  attendant  prayers. 
Ah!  my  brethren,  do  you  not  think,  amid 
the  tones,  and  the  sympathies,  and  the  tears, 
which  an  affectionate  pastor  pours  out  in 
the  fervency  of  his  soul,  and  mingles  with 
all  his  petitions,  and  all  his  addresses  to  the 
dying  man,  that  no  flattering  unction  ever 
steals  upon  him,  to  lull  his  conscience,  and 
smooth  the  agony  of  his  departure?  Then, 
my  brethren,  you  mistake  it,  you  sadly  mis- 
take it;  and  even  here,  where  I  lift  my 
voice  among  a  crowd  of  men,  in  the  prime 
and  unbroken  vigour  of  their  days, — if  even 
the  youngest  and  likeliest  of  you  all,  shall, 
trusting  to  some  future  repentance,  cherish 
the  purpose  of  sin  another  hour,  and  not 
resolve  at  this  critical  and  important  Now, 
to  break  it  all  off,  by  an  act  of  firm  abandon- 
ment, then  be  your  abhorrence  of  Popery 
what  it  may,  you  are  exemplifying  the 
worst  of  its  errors,  and  wrapping  yourselves 
up  in  the  cruelest  and  most  inveterate  of  its 
delusions. 

I  have  left  myself  very  little  time  for  the 
application  of  all  this  to  the  particular  ob- 
jects of  our  Society.— First,  Let  it  correct 
the  very  gross  and  vulgar  tendency  we  all 
have,  to  think  that  the  kingdom  of  God 
cometh  with  observation.  That  kingdom 
has  its  seat  within  us,  and  consists  in  the 
reign  of  principle  over  the  hidden  and  invisi- 
ble mind.  The  mere  deposition  of  the 
Pope  from  that  throne  where  he  sits  sur- 
rounded with  the  splendour  of  temporali- 
ties,— the  mere  ascendency  of  Protestant 
princes,  over  the  counsels  and  politics  of 
the  world, — the  mere  exclusion  of  Catholic 
subjects  from  our  administrations  and  our 
Parliaments, — these  things  are  ail  very  ob- 
servable, but  they  may  all  happen,  without 
one  inch  of  progress  being  made  towards 
the  establishment  of  that  kingdom,  which 
cometh  not  with  observation.  Why,  my 
brethren,  the  supposition  may  be  a  very  odd 
one,  nor  do  I  say  that  it  is  at  all  likely  to  be 
realized,— but  for  the  sake  of  illustration,  I 
will  come  forward  with  it.  Conceive  that 
the  Spirit  of  God,  accompanying  the  circu- 
lation of  the  word  of  God,  were  to  intro- 
duce all  its  truths  and  all  its  lessons  into 


the  heart  of  every  individual  of  the  Catho- 
lic priesthood  ;  and  that  the  Pope  himself, 
instead  of  being  brought  down  in  person 
from  the   secular   eminence  he   occupies, 
were  brought  down  in  spirit,  with  all  his 
lofty  imaginations,  to  the  captivity  of  the 
obedience  of  Christ, — then  I  am  not  pre- 
pared to  assert,  that  under  the  influence  of 
this  great  Christian  episcopacy,  a  mighty 
advancement  may  not  be  made  in  building 
up  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  in  throwing 
down  the  kingdom  of  Satan,  throughout  all 
the  territories   of    Catholic    Christendom. 
And  yet,  with  all  this,  the  name  of  Catholic 
may  be  retained, — the  external  and  visible 
marks  of  distinction,  may  be  as  prominent 
as  ever, — and  with  all  those  insignia  about 
them,  which  keep  up  our  passionate  anti- 
pathy to  this  denomination,  there  might  not 
be  a  single  ingredient  in  the  spirit  of  its 
members,  to  merit  our  rational  antipathy. 
I  beg  you  will  just  take  all  this  ast  an  at- 
tempt at  the  illustration  of  what.  1  count  a 
very  important  principle ; — and,  to  make 
the  illustration  more  complete,  let  me  take 
up  the  case  of  a  Protestant  country,  and 
put  the  supposition,  that,  with  the  name  of 
a  pure  and  spiritual  religion,  the  majority 
of  its  inhabitants  are  utter  strangers  to  its 
power ;  that  an  indifference  to  the  matters 
of  faith  and  of  eternity,  works  all  the  effect 
of  a  deep  and  fatal  infidelity  on  their  con- 
sciences; that  the  world  engrosses  every 
heart,  and  the  kingdom  which  is  not  of  this 
world,  is  virtually  disowned  and  held  in 
derision    among   the   various  classes   and 
characters  of  society ;  that  the  spirit  of  the 
New  Testament  is  banished  from  our  Par- 
liaments, and  banished  from  our  Universi- 
ties, and  banished  from  the  great  bulk  of 
our  ecclesiastical  establishments,  and  it  is 
only  to  be  met  with  among  a  few  inconsid- 
erable men,  who  are  scouted  by  the  general 
voice  as  the  fanatics  and  visionaries  of  the 
day ; — then,  my  brethren,  I  am  not  to  be 
charmed  out  of  truth,  and  of  principle,  by 
the  mockery  of  a  name.     Call  such  a  coun- 
try reformed,  as  you  may,  it  is  full  of  the 
strong-hold  of  antichrist,  from  one  end  to 
the  other  of  it ;  and  there  must  be  a  revolu- 
tion of  sentiment  there,  as  well  as  in  the 
darkest  regions  of  Popery,  ere  the  "ene- 
mies of  the  Son  of  God  be  consumed  by  the 
breath  of  his  mouth,"  or  "  Babylon   the 
great  be  fallen." 

Now,  secondly,  mark  the  influence  of 
such  a  train  of  sentiment,  on  the  spirit  of 
those  who  are  employed  in  spreading  the 
light  of  reformation  among  a  Catholic  peo- 
ple. It  will  purify  their  aim,  and  give  it  a 
judicious  direction,  and  chase  away  from 
their  proceedings  that  offensive  tone  of  ar- 
rogance which  is  calculated  to  irritate,  and 
to  beget  a  more  determined  obstinacy  of 
prejudice  than  ever.  Their  great  aim,  to 
express  it  in  one  word,  is  to  plant  in  the 


DOCTRINE  OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY,  &C. 


247 


hearts  of  all  men  of  all  countries,  the  reli- 
gion of  the  Bihle.  Their  great  direction 
will  be  toward  the  establishment  of  right 
principle ;  and  in  the  prosecution  of  it,  they 
will  carefully  avoid  multiplying  the  points 
of  irritation,  by  giving  vent  to  their  tradi- 
tional repugnance  against  the  less  material 
forms  of  Popery.  And  the  meek  conscious- 
ness of  that  woful  departure  from  vital 
Christianity,  which  has  taken  place  even 
in  the  reformed  countries  of  Christendom, 
will  divest  them  of  that  repulsive  supe- 
riority which,  I  fear,  has  gone  far  to  defeat 
the  success  of  many  an  attempt,  upon  many 
an  enemy  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 
"  The  whole  amount  of  our  message  is  to 
furnish  you  with  the  Bible,  and  to  furnish 
you  with  the  art  of  reading  it.  We  think 
the  lessons  of  this  book  well  fitted  to  chase 
away  the  manifold  errors  which  rankle  in 
the  bosom  of  our  own  country.  You  are 
the  subjects  of  error  as  well  as  we  ;  and  we 
trust  that  you  will  find  them  useful,  in  en- 
lightening the  prejudices,  and  in  aiding  the 
frailties  to  which,  as  the  children  of  one  com- 
mon humanity,  we  are  all  liable.  Amongst 
us,  there  is  a  mighty  deference  to  the  au- 
thority of  man :  if  this  exists  among  you, 
here  is  a  book  which  tells  us  to  call  no  man 
master,  and  delivers  us  from  the  fallibility 
of  human  opinions.  Amongst  us  there  is  a 
delusive  confidence  in  the  forms  of  godli- 
ness, with  little  of  its  power :  here  is  a  book, 
which  tells  us  that  holiness  of  life  is  the 
great  end  of  all  our  ceremonies,  and  of  all 
our  sacraments.  Amongst  us  there  is  a 
host  of  theologians,  each  wielding  his  sepa- 
rate authority  over  the  creed  and  the  con- 
science of  his  countrymen,  and  you,  Catho- 
lics, have  justly  reproached  us  with  our 
manifold  and  never-ending  varieties;  but 
here  is  a  book,  the  influence  of  which  is 
throwing  all  these  differences  into  the  back 
ground,  and  bringing  forward  those  great 
and  substantial  points  of  agreement,  which 
lead  us  to  recognise  the  man  of  another 
creed  to  be  essentially  a  Christian, — and  we 
want  to  widen  this  circle  of  fellowship,  that 
we  may  he  permitted  to  live  in  the  exercise 
of  one  faith  and  of  one  charity  along  with 
you.  Amongst  us  the  great  bulk  of  men 
pass  through  life  forgelful  of  eternity,  and 
think,  that  by  the  sighs  and  the  ministra- 
tions of  their  last  days,  they  will  earn  all 
the  blessedness  of  its  ever-during  rewards. 
But  here  is  a  hook  which  tells  us  that  we 
Should  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  Cod  ;   and 

will  not  let  us  off  with  any  other  repentance 
than  repentance  now;  and  tells  us,  what 
we  trusts  will  light  with  greater  energy  on 
your  consciences  than  it  has  ever  done  upon 
ours,  that  we  should  haste  and  make  no  de- 
lay to  keep  the  commandments."  O!  my 
brethren,  let  us  not  despair  that  such  argu- 
ments, urged  by  the  mild  charity  which 
adorns  the  Bihle,  and  followed  up  by  its 


circulation,  will  at  length  tell  on  the  firmest 
defences  that  bigotry  ever  raised  around 
the  conscience  and  the  principles  of  men — 
and  that,  out  of  those  jarring  elements  which 
threaten  our  empire  with  a  wild  war  of  tur- 
bulence and  disorder,  we  shall,  by  the  bless- 
ing of  God,  be  enabled  to  cement  all  its 
members  into  one  great  and  harmonious 
family. 

I  conclude  with  saying,  that,  mainly  and 
substantially  speaking,  i  coin  eive  this  to  be 
the  very  spirit  of  the  attempt  that  is  now 
making  by  the  Society  I  am  now  pleading 
for.  It  is  not  an  offensive  declaration  of  war 
against  Popery.  It  is  true  that  it  may  be 
looked  upon  virtually  as  a  measure  of  hos- 
tility against  the  errors  of  Catholics,  but  no 
more  than  it  is  a  measure  of  hostility  against 
the  errors  of  Protestants.  The  light  of  truth 
is  fitted  to  chase  away  ail  error,  and  there  is 
something  in  that  Bihle  which  the  agents  of 
our  Society  are  now  teaching  so  assiduously, 
that  is  not  more  humbling  and  more  severe 
on  the  general  spirit  of  Ireland,  than  it  is  on 
the  general  spirit  of  our  own  country.  It  is 
true,  that  some  of  the  Catholics  set  their  face 
against  the  establishment  of  our  schools,  but 
this  resistance  to  education  is  not  peculiar 
to  them.  It  is  to  be  met  with  in  lOngland. 
It  is  to  be  met  with  in  our  own  boasted  and 
beloved  Scotland.  It  is  to  be  met  with  even 
among  the  enlightened  classes  of  British 
society — and  shall  we  speak  of  it  as  if  it 
fastened  a  peculiar  stigma  on  that  country, 
which  we  have  left  to  languish  in  depression 
and  ignorance  for  so  many  gem  rations? 
But,  this  resistance  on  the  part  of  Catholics 
is  far  from  general.  In  one  district  the 
teachers  of  our  schools  are  chiefly  Roman 
Catholics;  many  of  the  school -houses  are 
Catholic  chapels;  and  the  great  majority  of 
the  scholars  are  children  of  Catholic  parents, 
who  have  appeared  not  a  little  elated  that 
their  children  have  proved  more  expert  in 
their  scriptural  quotations  than  their  neigh- 
bours.— Call  you  not  this  an  auspicious 
commencement?  Is  there  no  loosening  of 
prejudice  here?  Do  you  not  perceive  that 
the  firmest  system  of  bigotry,  ever  erected 
over  the  minds  of  a  prostrate  population, 
must  give  way  before  the  continued  opera- 
tion of  such  an  expedient  as  this?  There  is 
no  one  device  of  human  policy  that  has 
done  so  much  for  Ireland  in  a  whole  cen- 
tury, as  is  now  doing  by  the  progress  of 
education,  and  the  freer  circulation  of  the 
gospel  of  light  through  the  dark  mass  and 
interior  of  their  peasantry.  Bet  me  crave 
the  assistance  of  the  public  in  this  place  to 
one  of  the  most  powerful  instruments  that 
has  yet  been  set  agoing  for  helping  forward 
this  animating  cause.  It  is  an  instrument 
ready  made  to  your  hand.  The  Hibernian 
Society  have  already  established  347 schools 
in  our  sister  country,  a  number  equal  to  one 
third  of  the  parishes  in  Scotland;  and  they 


248 


APPENDIX. 


are  dealing  out  education,  a  pure  scriptural 
education,  to  27,700  Irish  children.  It  will 
be  a  disgrace  to  us  if  we  do  not  signalize 
ourselves  in  such  a  business  as  this.  We 
talk  of  the  Irish  as  a  wild  and  uncivilized 
people.  It  will  be  the  indication  of  a  very 
gross  and  uncivilized  public  at  home,  if  we 
restrict  our  interchange  with  the  men  of 
the  opposite  shore,  to  the  one  interchange 
of  merchandise. 

Let  the  rudeness  of  the  Irish  be  what  it 
may,  sure  I  am,  that  there  is'  much  in  their 
constitutional  character  to  encourage  us  in 
this  enterprise.  They  have  many  good 
points  and  engaging  properties  about  them. 
I  speak  not  of  that  peculiar  style  of  genius 
and  of  eloquence,  which  gives  such  fascina- 
tion to  the  poets,  the  authors,  the  orators  of 
Ireland.  I  speak  of  the  great  mass,  and  I  do 
think  that  I  perceive  a  something  in  the 
natural  character  of  Ireland,  which  draws 
me  more  attractively  to  the  love  of  its  peo- 
ple, than  any  other  picture  of  national  man- 
ners ever  has  inspired.  Even  amid  the  wild- 
est extravagance  of  that  humour  which  sits 
so  visibly  and  so  universally  on  the  counte- 
nance of  the  Irish  population,  I  can  see  a 
heart  and  a  social  sympathy  along  with  it. 
Amid  all  the  wayward  and  ungovernable 
flights  of  that  rare  pleasantry  which  belongs 
to  them,  there  is  a  something  by  which  the 
bosom  of  an  Irishman  can  be  seriously  and 
permanently  affected,  and  which  I  think  in 
judicious  hands  is  convertible  into  the  finest 
results  on  the  ultimate  character  of  that 
people.  It  strikes  me,  that,  of  all  the  men 
on  the  face  of  the  earth,  they  would  be  the 


worst  fitted  to  withstand  the  expression  of 
honest,  frank,  liberal,  and  persevering  kind- 
ness;— that  if  they  saw  there  was  no  artful 
policy  in  the  attentions  by  which  you  pliea 
them,  but  that  an  upright  and  firmly  sus- 
tained benevolence  lay  at  the  bottom  of  all 
your  exertions  for  the  best  interest  of  their 
families;  could  they  attain  the  conviction, 
that,  amid  all  the  contempt  and  all  the  re- 
sistance you  experienced  from  their  hands, 
there  still  existed  in  your  bosoms  an  un- 
quelled  and  an  undissembied  love  for  them 
and  for  their  children; — could  they  see  the 
working  of  this  principle  divested  of  every 
treacherous  and  suspicious  symptom,  and 
unwearied  amid  every  discouragement  in 
prosecuting  the  task  of  their  substantial 
amelioration, — why,  my  brethren,  let  all 
this  come  to  be  seen,  and  in  a  few  years  I 
trust  our  devoted  missionaries  will  bring  it 
before  them  broad  and  undeniable  as  the 
light  of  day,  and  those  hearts  that  are  now 
shut  against  you  in  sullenness  and  disdain 
will  be  subdued  into  tenderness;  the  strong 
emotions  of  gratitude  and  nature  will  at 
length  find  their  way  through  all  the  bar- 
riers of  prejudice;  and  a  people  whom  no 
penalties  could  turn,  whom  no  terror  of 
military  violence  could  overcome,  who  kept 
on  a  scowling  front  of  hostility  that  was 
not  to  be  softened,  while  war  spread  its 
desolating  cruelties  over  their  unhappy  land, 
— this  very  people  will  do  homage  to  the 
omnipotence  of  charity,  and  when  the 
mighty  armour  of  Christian  kindness  is 
brought  to  bear  upon  them,  it  will  be  found 
to  be  irresistible. 


APPENDIX. 


Extracts  from  the  Eleventh  Annual  Report  of  the  Hibernian  Society,  for  establishing 
Schools,  and  circulating  the  Holy  Scriptures  in  Ireland.     London,  1817. 


Thk  Committee  are  persuaded,  that  among  the 
numerous  Institutions  which  the  Divine  power 
and  goodness  have  raised  up  in  this  kingdom,  the 
Hibernian  Society,  if  duly  considered,  will  stand 
very  high  in  the  scale  of  moral  and  religious  im- 
portance ;  and  they  are  happy  to  add,  that  the 
present  Report  will  present  to  its  worthy  support- 
ers, continued  and  additional  instances  of  the  prac- 
ticability of  its  designs,  and  the  success  of  its  ope- 
rations. 

"  In  the  good  work  of  establishing  Schools  for 
the  education  of  the  children  of  the  poor,  in  Ire- 
land, the  Committee  had  proceeded  so  far,  at  the 
time  of  holding  the  last  General  Meeting,  as  to  re- 
port, that  the  number  of  Schools  exceeded  three 
hundred  ;  and  that  the  children  and  adults  edu- 
cated therein  were  upwards  of  nineteen  thousand. 
Thev  have  now  the  pleasure  to  state,  that,  by  the 
annual  return  which  was  made  up  to  Christinas 


last,  the  number  of  Schools  is  347;  and  the  chil- 
dren and  adults  educated  therein,  are  27,776. 

"  Such  is  the  endearing  and  interesting  specta- 
cle which  the  present  state  of  the  labours  of  the 
Society  presents  to  its  benevolent  supporters.  Every 
Parent,  every  Christian,  and  every  Briton  must 
rejoice  in  the  accomplishment  of  so  much  good  to 
Ireland,  where  it  was  so  peculiarly  needed;  and  it 
is  of  such  a  nature,  and  is  in  such  a  course  of  ex- 
tension and  increase,  as  to  afford  the  most  reasona- 
ble expectations  of  enlarged  and  permanent  bene- 
fits to  that  part  of  the  United  Kingdom. 

"  The  Committee  are  happy  to  state,  that  the 
regulation  for  the  conduct  of  the  Schools  are  in 
full  operation,  and  that  the  Inspectors  are  active 
and  circumspect.  The  progress  of  the  children  in 
learning  to  read,  and  in  committing  the  Scriptures 
to  memory,  and  the  interest  that  even  Catholic  pa- 
rents feel  in  having  their  little  ones  appear  with 


APPENDIX. 


249 


credit  at  the  inspections,  are  truly  gratifying.  The 
attention  of  the  Masters,  in  general,  to  the  import 
of  the  sacred  word,  is  pleasingly  on  the  increase: 
and  among  such  as  have  had  their  own  under- 
standings enlightened  and  informed,  there  exists  a 
spirit  of  emulation  to  have  their  pupils  excel  in 
giving  suitable  answers  to  questions  relating  to  the 
meaning  of  the  passages  which  they  repeat. 

"  These  instances  evidently  show  the  immediate 
and  direct  influence  which  the  Schools  produce  on 
the  minds  of  the  parents  of  the  children  who  are 
educated  therein;  and  that  an  emanation  of  Scrip- 
ture light,  and  a  portion  of  religious  interest  of  the 
most  important  and  useful  kind,  are  introduced  into 
the  humble  cottages  of  the  poor.  These  now  have 
some  '  light  in  their  dwelling,'  in  the  midst  of  sur- 
rounding darkness  and  superstition ;  which,  how- 
ever, begins  to  he  penetrated  with  the  beams  of 
Divine  truth,  and  to  be  impressed  with  that  word 
which  is  '  quick  anil  powerful,  and  a  discerner  of 
the  thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart.'  On  this 
interesting  subject,  a  most  valuable  correspondent 
of  the  Committee  thus  writes : — 

"  From  the  many  applications  I  receive  from  in- 
dividuals from  different  parts  of  the  country  for 
Bibles  and  Testaments,  there  is  strong  evidence  to 
the  spreading  of  religious  inquiry  among  the  mass 
of  the  people.  Many  of  them  come  from  places 
remote  from  any  of  the  Schools ;  but  I  always  find 
that  anxiety  for  the  Scriptures  has  been  excited  by 
converse  with  some  who  have  been  pupils  therein, 
who  have  lived  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Schools, 
or  have  been  in  some  other  ways  immediately  or 
remotely  connected  with  them. 

"Could  the  moral  and  religious  improvement  of 
the  human  mind  be  as  easily  discovered  as  the 
agricultural  improvement  of  a  country,  those  nu- 
merous districts  where  the  Schools  have  been  for 
any  time  established,  would  be  found  to  exhibit  a 
striking  contrast  to  those  wherein  they  have  not 
yet  taken  place.  While  these  would  be  seen  in  all 
the  nakedness  of  sterility,  or  fruitful  only  in  the 
production  of  noxious  weeds ;  in  the  other  it  would 
appear  that  in  a  great  degree  the  fallow  ground  has 
been  broken  up,  the  good  seed  sown  and  in  a  state 
of  vegetation,  waiting  for  the  early  and  latter  rain  ; 
in  many,  the  appearance  of  a  healthful  crop  would 
gladden  the  eye,  and  in  some,  the  fields  would  ap- 
pear already  white  unto  the  harvest. 

"The  great  increase  in  the  number  of  the 
Schools;  the  amazing  anxiety  for  the  Scriptures 
which  they  have  been  the  means  of  exciting  in 
every  district ;  the  increasing  demand  for  Evening 
Schools  for  the  instruction  of  the  adult  popula- 
tion,—all  pressinglycall  for  such  a  supply  of  Bibles 
and  Testaments  as  I  am  unable  to  meet.  Were 
the  wonders  doing  in  this  country  by  the  instru- 
mentality of  the  Hibernian  Society  fully  known  in 
England,  and  their  importance  rightly  appreciated, 
no  Society  would  be  found  deserving  of  greater 
support." 

"The  Committee  continue  to  give  the  greatest 
encouragement  to  the  instruction  of  adults  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Schools;  and  they  receive  the  most 
pleasing  accounts  of  the  efficacy  of  the  word  of 
God  in  the  enlightening  of  the  minds  of  those  who 
probably  would  never  have  had  an  opportunity  of 
reading  the  Scriptures,  or  of  hearing  them  read, 
had  it  not  been  tor  the  free  Schools  which  this  So- 
ciety has  established,  and  for  the  numerous  copies 
of  the  Divine  word  which  it  has  industriously  cir- 
culated. Indeed,  the  Visitors  to  the  Schools  per- 
ceive and  acknowledge,  that,  were  it  not  for  the 
labours  of  this  Institution,  it  would  be  impossible 

32 


for  the  Bible  Societies  to  get  the  Scriptures  into  the 
hands  of  the  Catholics,  the  great  mass  of  the  popu- 
lation of  Ireland. 

"The  formation  of  Irish  classes  in  the  Schools 
which  are  appropriate  thereto,  continues  to  be  se- 
dulously promoted.  An  additional  allowance  has 
been  granted  to  the  Masters  for  their  Irish  Testa- 
ment classes;  and  this  has  powerfully  operated  to 
increase  the  demand  for  Irish  Testaments,  both  in 
the  day  Schools,  and  also  in  those  which  are  hela 
in  the  evening,  for  teaching  the  adults. 

"The  Committee  coidd  adduce  additional  in- 
stances of  approbation  and  support  from  some  of 
the  Catholic  Clergy,  both  of  the  Society's  Schools, 
and  of  its  exertions  to  circulate  the  Scriptures ;  but 
the  limits  of  this  Report  will  not  permit  an  en- 
largement on  this  pleasing  and  interesting  subject. 
If,  however,  the  views  and  object  of  this  Institu- 
tion have  only  commended  themselves  as  yet  to  a 
small  part  of  the  Catholic  body,  the  Committee  are 
happy  to  state,  that,  in  the  Protestant  community, 
the  high  importance  of  the  Hibernian  Society  in- 
creasingly arrests  public  attention  ;  that  the  de- 
mands lor  Schools  in  almost  every  district  are  more 
numerous  than  can  be  attended  to,  and  that  in 
every  place  respectable  individuals  come  forward, 
unsolicited,  to  carry  into  execution  the  benevolent 
designs  of  the  Society.  And  here  it  is  very  ap- 
propriate and  grateful  to  observe,  that  to  the  (  lergy 
of  the  Established  Church  who  have  afforded  their 
patronage  to  the  Schools,  and  have  condescended 
to  act  as  Visitors,  the  Society  are  under  ver<-  ^reat 
obligations ;  and  particularly  to  an  excellent  Dig- 
nitary of  that  Church,  who  has  always  entered  into 
the  views  of  the  Society  with  a  liberal  mind,  has 
furthered  them  with  continued  assiduity,  and  has 
recently  from  the  pulpit  pleaded  the  cause  of  the 
Institution,  and  thereby  added  to  its  celebrity  and 
support.  This  last  service  called  for  the  official 
thanks  of  the  Committee.  They  were  transmitted 
by  the  treasurer,  and  the  answer  which  has  been 
received  from  this  estimable  personage  is  so  charac- 
teristic of  his  piety  and  philanthropy,  and  so  highly 
honourable  to  the  Hibernian  Society,  that  it  would 
be  unsuitable  and  injurious  to  withhold  the  follow- 
ing extract: — 

"  I  have  received  your  very  kind  letter,  commu- 
nicating the  thanks  of  the  Committee  of  the  Hi- 
bernian Society  of  London,  to  me,  for  the  sermon 
I  preached  in  Sligo  Church  on  their  behalf;  and 
for  other  services  which  the  Committee  are  pleased 
kindly  to  notice,  as  rendered  by  me  to  the  Schools 
under  their  patronage.  Whatever  little  I  have 
been  enabled  to  do,  I  have  felt  that  therein  I  have 
been  doing  the  best  service  I  could  to  this  quarter 
of  my  poor  benighted  country.  And  I  thank  God, 
that  I  see  the  exertions  which  the  Society  has  made 
already  (and  they  have  been  great)  so  largely  owned 
of  him.  I  am  persuaded,  that  nothing  is  calculated 
so  much,  under  the  Divine  blessing,  to  dispel  the 
gross  darkness  that  has  covered  this  land,  for  so 
many  ages,  as  such  a  system  of  general  scriptural 
education,  as  that  adopted  1>\  your  Society.  And 
I  have  to  acknowledge  that  the  establishment  of 
the  Societv's  Schools  in  tiie  vicinity  of  my  minis- 
terial duties,  has  proved  the  happy  instrument  of  a 
great  enlargement  of  utterance  and  usefulness  to 
me;  and  never  more  did  I  experience  this  enlarge- 
ment, than  on  the  late  occasion  of  my  visiting 
Sligo,  to  advocate  the  cause  of  the  Society.  If  1 
have  done  this  with  any  degree  of  success,  1  desire 
to  thank,  and  give  glory  to  God.  Surely  you  well 
deserve  the  cordial  co-operation  of  the  Irish  pub- 
lic;   and  you  call   forth  from   Irish   Christians, 


250 


APPENDIX. 


thanksgivings  to  God  for  the  grace  bestowed  upon 
you." 

It  has  been  noticed  that  the  number  of  children 
and  adults  taught  in  the  Society's  Schools  has  in- 
creased, in  the  course  of  the  last  year,  from  19,000 
to  27,000,  and  that  requisitions  for  additional 
Schools  are  far  more  numerous  than  can  be  com- 
plied with.  It  will  also  be  remembered,  that  at  the 
time  of  holding  the  last  Annual  Meeting,  the  ex- 
penditure of  the  Society  had  exceeded  its  income 
upwards  of  600/.  In  this  conflict  of  an  enlarged 
establishment  and  a  deficient  revenue,  of  encourag- 
ing prospects  and  limited  means,  the  Committee 
have  endeavoured  to  increase  the  funds  of  the  So- 
ciety, and  to  lessen  the  expense  of  its  future  ope- 
rations. To  obtain  the  first-mentioned  benefit, 
they  have  transmitted  a  circular  letter  to  Ministers 
generally,  in  town  and  country,  describing  the  state 
of  the  Institution,  as  to  its  importance,  its  useful- 
ness, and  its  necessities;  urging  them  to  interest 
themselves  in  procuring  subscriptions  and  dona- 
tions: and  particularly  and  earnestly  requesting 
them  to  incorporate  it  amongst  those  other  excel- 
lent Societies,  for  the  assistance  of  which  Auxi- 
liary Institutions  have  in  so  many  places  been 
established.  These  dispense  their  tributary  streams 
with  fertilizing  and  invigorating  energies ;  and  if 
in  their  course,  they  were  permitted  to  visit  and 
enrich  the  Hibernian  Society,  Ireland  would 
greatly  benefit  by  the  diffusion,  and  would  ar- 
dently bless  her  pious  and  liberal  benefactors. — 
With  regard  to  lessening  the  expense  of  future 
operations,  the  Committee  have  endeavoured  to 
connect  the  formation  of  new  Schools,  with  an 
Annual  Subscription ;  and,  in  this  way,  it  is  to  be 
hoped,  that  many  of  the  resident  noblemen  and 
gentlemen  in  Ireland,  will  assist  in  carrying  into 
effect  the  designs,  and  in  relieving  the  funds,  of 
the  Hibernian  Society. 

It  has  been  truly  gratifying  to  the  Committee,  to 
state  the  considerable  increase  of  the  Society's 
Schools,  and  the  evident  utility  and  success  of  its 
operations ;  but  it  is  with  regret  that  they  view  the 
inadequacy  of  the  funds  to  defray  the  necessary 
expenses  of  the  Institution;  and  with  anxiety  that 
they  contrast  the  openings  of  Providence  which 
present  themselves,  for  exertions  of  a  very  exten- 
sive nature — in  the  highest  degree  important,  and 
promising  the  most  happy  results, — with  the  alarm- 
ing deficiency  of  pecuniary  means  for  following  those 
providential  leadings,  with  the  energies  and  the 
hopes  which  they  are  so  well  calculated  to  inspire. 

With  respect  to  the  progress  which  has  already 
been  made  in  fulfilling  the  purposes  for  which  the 
Society  was  formed,  it  may  be  observed, — that  its 
advances  in  extension  of  operations,  and  its  suc- 
cess by  its  means  and  instruments,  have  proved  in 
the  highest  degree  pleasing  and  satisfactory.  It 
was  not  till  about  the  year  1809,  that  Schools  were 
established  in  Ireland,  under  the  patronage  of  the 
Hibernian  Society ;  from  which  period  to  the  pre- 
sent time,  these  establishments  have  so  increased 
as  to  include  upwards  of  27,000  pupils.  And  when 
it  is  considered  that  the  Schools  have  been  formed, 
and  the  children  collected  therein,  for  the  purpose 
of  imparting  the  benefits  of  education  to  the  lower 
classes  of  the  people,  who  had  neither  the  means 
nor  the  hopes  of  these  benefits  from  any  other 
quarter ;  and  also  of  diffusing  the  blessings  of  pure 
Scriptural  instruction  among  those  to  whom  the 


policy  and  the  power  of  their  superiors  forbid  the 
introduction  of  these  blessings ;  surely  it  must  be 
acknowledged,  that  the  designs  and  operations  of 
the  Society  have  been  appropriate  and  efficient, 
for  the  removal  of  the  greatest  of  evils,  and  for  the 
production  of  the  most  essential  and  important 
good.  In  fact,  the  gradually  increasing  operations 
of  the  Society  have  greatly  exceeded  its  progres- 
sive means  of  support ;  its  designs  have  been  truly 
laudable  and  excellent,  its  means  and  instruments 
well  adapted  to  execute  them,  and  the  sphere  of 
its  labours  admirably  calculated  to  gratify  British 
benevolence,  and  to  reward  Christian  zeal.  Under 
all  these  circumstances,  it  is  a  matter  of  surprise 
and  regret,  that  the  income  of  this  Institution, 
arising  from  annual  subscriptions,  does  not  amount 
to  500/ ;  whilst  its  annual  expenditure  is  upwards 
of  4,000/.  The  deficiency  has,  in  part,  been  sup- 
plied by  donations  and  collections,  and  also  by  as- 
sistance received  from  Auxiliary  Societies ;  but  the 
arrears  at  length  amount  to  a  sum  (1,605/.)  wliich 
must  have  become  burdensome  to  the  Treasurer, 
embarrassing  to  the  Committee,  and  prejudicial  to 
the  interest  of  the  Society. 

To  relieve  it  of  tliis  debt,  is  the  anxious  wish  of 
its  Committee,  and  must  be  the  earnest  desire  of  its 
Members.  And  when  it  is  considered,  as  having 
arisen  out  of  the  actual  prosperity  of  the  cause, 
which  the  Society  was  established  to  promote,  and 
from  the  enlarged  and  successful  exertions  which 
it  has  been  enabled  to  prosecute,  the  Committee 
are  persuaded  that  every  Member  of  the  Institu- 
tion will  feel  it  to  be  his  duty  and  his  pleasure,  to 
unite  with  them,  in  immediate  and  earm  >t  eii'urts, 
to  replenish  Ad  increase  its  funds,  in  order  that 
the  Society  may  be  relieved  from  the  pressure 
of  present  obligations,  and  be  capacitated  to  enter 
on  a  course  of  additional  labours,  and  of  extensive 
and  hopeful  exertions. 

That  the  operations  of  this  Society  should  be 
stationary  whilst  the  most  fair  and  promising 
prospects  open  for  their  exertions  ;  that  the  bene- 
fits of  education  which  it  has  conferred,  and  the 
blessings  of  Scriptural  instruction,  which  it  has 
imparted,  should  be  circumscribed  comparatively 
to  a  few,  while  hundreds  of  thousands  are  perish- 
ing for  lack  of  knowledge,  is  a  state  of  things, 
which  must  wound  the  feelings,  and  disappoint  the 
hopes,  of  the  supporters  of  the  Institution. 

That  a  work  so  truly  important,  that  objects  so 
highly  benevolent,  and  that  efforts  so  eminently 
successful,  will  be  impeded  or  paralyzed  for  want 
of  pecuniary  support,  the  Committee  cannot  be- 
lieve. For  the  appeal  to  Christian  principles,  feel- 
ings, and  generosity,  is  made,  in  the  present  in- 
stance, to  the  religious  public  in  Great  Britain; 
whose  noble  liberality  supports  efforts  of  compas- 
sion and  mercy,  amongst  the  ignorant  and  the 
miserable,  in  the  most  distant  parts  of  the  world. 
And  this  liberality  will  surely  not  be  withheld 
from  the  Hibernian  Society,  whose  labours  are  di- 
rected to  remove  the  afflicting  spectacle  of  igno- 
rance, superstition,  immorality,  and  mental  degra- 
dation, which  the  lower  classes  of  the  community 
in  Ireland  exhibit ;  to  place  our  "  brethren  accord- 
ing to  the  flesh,"  our  fellow  subjects,  on  the  same 
high  ground  of  moral  and  national  advantage  on 
wliich  we  stand,  and  thus  to  promote  their  best 
interest,  their  highest  happiness,  and  their  eternal 
salvation. 


CRUELTY   TO   ANIMALS: 


A    SERMON 


PREACHED  IN  EDINBURGH,  ON  THE  5th  OF  MARCH,  1826. 


"  A  righteous  man  regardeth  the  life  of  his  beast." — Prov.  xii.  10. 


The  word  regard  is  of  two-fold  signifi- 
cation, and  may  either  apply  to  the  moral 
or  to  the  intellectual  part  of  our  nature. 
In  the  one  application,  the  intellectual,  it  is 
the  regard  of  attention.  In  the  other,  the 
moral,  it  is  the  regard  of  sympathy,  or 
kindness.  We  do  not  marvel  at  this  com- 
mon term  having  been  applied  to  two  dif- 
ferent things;  for,  in  truth,  they  are  most 
intimately  associated ;  and  the  faculty  by 
which  a  transition  is  accomplished  from 
the  one  to  the  other,  may  be  considered  as 
the  intermediate  link  between  the  mind 
and  the  heart.  It  is  the  faculty  by  which 
certain  objects  become  present  to  the  mind ; 
and  then  the  emotions  are  awakened  in 
the  heart,  which  correspond  to  these  ob- 
jects. The  two  act  and  re-act  upon  each 
other.  But  as  we  must  not  dwell  too  long 
on  generalities,  we  shall  satisfy  ourselves 
with  stating,  that  as,  on  the  one  hand,  if 
he  heart  be  very  alive  to  any  peculiar  set 
of  emotions,  this  of  itself  is  a  predisposing 
cause  why  the  mind  should  be  very  alert 
in  singling  out  the  peculiar  objects  which 
excite  them ;  so,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
the  emotions  be  specifically  felt,  the  objects 
must  be  specifically  noticed  :  and  thus  it  is, 
that  the  faculty  of  attention — a  faculty  at 
the  bidding  of  the  will,  and  for  the  exer- 
cise of  which,  therefore,  man  is  responsible 
— is  of  such  mighty  and  commanding  in- 
fluence upon  the  sensibilities  of  our  nature; 
insomuch  that,  if  the  regard  of  attention 
could  be  fastened  strongly  and  singly  on 
the  pain  of  a  suffering  creature  as  its  ob- 
ject, we  believe  that  no  other  emotion 
than  the  regard  of  sympathy  or  compassion 
would  in  any  instance  lie  awakened  by  it. 

So  much  is  this  indeed  the  case — so  sure 
is  this  alliance  between  the  mind  simply 
noticing  the  distress  of  a  sentient  creature, 
and  the  heart  being  sympathetically  affect- 
ed by  it,  that  Nature  seems  to  have  limited 
and  circumscribed  our  power  of  noticing, 
and  just  for  the  purpose  of  shielding  us 
from  the  pain  of  too  pungent,  or  too  inces- 
sant a  sympathy.     And,  accordingly,  one 


of  the  exquisite  adaptations  in  the  mechan- 
ism of  the  human  frame  may  be  observed 
in  the  very  imperfection  of  the  human  fa- 
culties. The  most  frequently  adduced  ex- 
ample of  this  is,  the  limited  power  of  that 
organ  which  is  the  instrument  of  vision. 
The  imagination  is,  that,  did  man  look  out 
upon  Nature  with  microscopic  eye,  so  that 
many  of  those  wonders  which  now  lie  hid 
in  deep  obscurity  should  henceforth  start 
into  open  revelation,  and  be  hourly  and 
habitually  obtruded  upon  his  gaze,  then, 
with  nis  present  sensibilities  exposed  to  the 
torture  and  the  disturbance  of  a  perpetual 
and  most  agonizing  offence  from  all  possi- 
ble quarters  of  contemplation,  he  would  be 
utterly  incapacitated  for  the  movements  of 
familiar  and  ordinary  life.  Did  he  actually 
see,  for  example,  in  the  beverage  which  he 
carried  to  his  lips,  that  teeming  multitude 
of  sentient  and  susceptible  creatures  where- 
with it  is  pervaded,  or  if  it  were  alike  pal- 
pable to  his  senses,  that,  by  the  crush  of 
every  footstep,  he  inflicted  upon  thousands 
the  pangs  of  dissolution,  then  it  is  appre- 
hended that,  to  man  as  he  is,  the  world 
would  be  insupportable.  For,  beside  the 
irritation  of  that  sore  and  incessant  disgust, 
from  which  the  power  of  escaping  was  de- 
nied to  him,  there  would  be  another,  and  a 
most  intense  suffering,  in  the  constantly 
aggrieved  tenderness  of  his  nature.  Or  if 
by  the  operation  of  habit,  all  these  sensi- 
bilities were  blunted,  and  he  could  behold 
unmoved  the  ruin  and  the  wretchedness 
that  he  strewed  along  his  path,  then  he 
might  attain  to  comfort  in  the  midst  of 
this  surrounding  annoyance ;  but  what 
would  become  of  character  in  the  utter  ex- 
tinction of  all  the  delicacies  and  the  feel- 
ings which  wont  to  adorn  it?  Such  a 
change  in  his  physical,  could  only  be  ad- 
justed to  his  happiness,  by  a  reverse  and 
most  melancholy  change  in  the  moral 
constitution  of  his  nature.  The  fineness  of 
his  bodily  perceptions  would  need  to  be 
compensated  by  a  proportional  hardness 
in  the  temperament  of  his  soul.    With  his 


252 


ON  CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


now  finer  sensations,  there  behooved  to  be 
duller  and  coarser  sensibilities ;  and  to  as- 
sort that  eye,  whose  retina  had  become 
tenfold  more  soft  and  susceptible  than  be- 
fore, its  owner  must  be  furnished  with  a 
heart  of  tenfold  rigidity,  and  a  nervous 
system  as  impregnable  as  iron, — that  he 
might  walk  forth  in  ease  and  in  compla- 
cency, while  the  conscious  destroyer  of 
millions  by  his  tread,  or  the  conscious  de- 
vourer  of  a  whole  living  and  suffering  he- 
catomb with  every  morsel  of  the  sustenance 
which  upheld  him. 

But,  for  the  purpose  of  a  nice  and  deli- 
cate balance  between  the  actual  feelings 
and  faculties  of  our  nature,  something  more 
is  necessary  than  the  imperfection  of  our 
outward  senses.  The  bluntness  of  man's 
visual  organs  serves,  no  doubt,  as  a  screen 
of  protection  against  both  the  nausea  and 
the  horror  of  those  many  spectacles,  which 
would  else  have  either  distressed  or  dete- 
riorated the  sensibilities  that  belong  to  him. 
But  then,  by  help  of  the  microscope,  this 
screen  can  be  occasionally  lifted  up;  and 
what  the  eye  then  saw,  the  memory  might 
retain,  and  the  imagination  might  dwell 
upon,  and  the  associating  faculty  might 
both  constantly  and  vividly  suggest;  and 
thus,  even  in  the  absence  of  every  provoca- 
tive from  without,  the  heart  might  be  sub- 
jected either  to  a  perpetual  agitation,  or  a 
perpetual  annoyance,  by  the  meddling  im- 
portunity of  certain  powers  and  activities 
which  are  within.  It  is  not,  therefore,  an 
adequate  defence  of  our  species,  against  a 
very  sore  and  hurtful  molestation,  that 
there  should  be  a  certain  physical  incapa- 
city in  our  senses.  There  must,  further- 
more, be  a  certain  physical  inertness  in 
our  reflective  faculties.  In  virtue  of  the 
former  it  is,  that  so  many  painful  or  dis- 
gusting objects  are  kept  out  of  sight.  But 
it  seems  indispensable  to  our  happy  or  even 
tolerable  existence,  that,  in  virtue  of  the 
latter,  these  objects,  when  out  of  sight, 
should  be  also  out  of  mind.  In  the  one 
way,  they  lose  their  power  to  offend  as  ob- 
jects of  outward  observation.  In  the  other 
way,  their  power  to  haunt  and  to  harass, 
by  means  of  inward  reflection,  is  also  taken 
away.  For  the  first  purpose,  Nature  has 
struck  with  a  certain  impotency  the  organs 
of  our  material  framework.  For  the  se- 
cond, she  has  infused,  as  it  were,  an  opiate 
into  the  recesses  of  our  mental  economy, 
and  made  it  of  sufficient  strength  and  seda- 
tive virtue  for  the  needful  tranquillity  of 
man,  and  for  upholding  that  average  en- 
joyment in  the  midst  both  of  agony  and  of 
loathsomeness,  which  either  senses  more 
acute,  or  a  spirit  more  wakeful,  must  have 
effectually  dissipated.  It  is  to  some  such 
provision  too,  we  think,  that  much  of  the 
heart's  purity,  as  well  as  much  of  its  ten- 
derness is  owing;  and  it  is  well  that  the 


thoughts  of  the  spirit  should  be  kept, 
though  even  by  the  weight  of  its  own 
lethargy,  from  too  busy  a  converse  with 
objects  which  are  alike  offensive  or  alike 
hazardous  to  both. 

It  is  more  properly  with  the  second  of 
these  adaptations  than  the  first,  that  our 
argument  has  to  do — with  the  inertness  of 
our  reflective  faculties,  rather  than  with 
the  incapacity  of  our  senses.  It  is  in  be- 
half of  animals,  and  not  of  animalculae, 
that  we  are  called  upon  to  address  you — 
not  of  that  countless  swarm,  the  agonies  of 
whose  destruction  are  shrouded  from  ob- 
servation by  the  vail  upon  the  sight ;  but 
of  those  creatures  who  move  on  the  face 
of  the  open  perspective  before  us,  and  not 
as  the  others  in  a  region  of  invisibles,  and 
yet  whose  dying  agonies  are  shrouded  al- 
most as  darkly  and  as  densely  from  general 
observation,  by  the  vail  upon  the  mind 
For  you  will  perceive,  that  in  reference  to 
the  latter  vail,  and  by  which  it  is  that 
what  is  out  of  sight  is  also  out  of  mind,  its 
purpose  is  accomplished,  whether  the  ob- 
jects which  are  disguised  by  it  be  without 
the  sphere  of  actual  vision,  or  beneath  the 
surface  of  possible  vision.  Now  it  is  with- 
out the  sphere  of  your  actual,  although  not 
beneath  the  surface  of  your  possible  vision, 
where  are  transacted  the  dreadful  mysteries 
of  a  slaughter-house,  and  more  especially 
those  lingering  deaths  which  an  animal 
has  to  undergo  for  the  gratifications  of  a  re- 
fined epicurism.  It  were  surely  most  de- 
sirable that  the  duties,  if  they  may  be  so 
called,  of  a  most  revolting  trade,  were  all 
of  them  got  over  with  the  least  possible  ex- 
pense of  suffering ;  nor  do  we  ever  feel  so 
painfully  the  impression  of  a  lurking  can- 
nibalism in  our  nature,  as  when  we  think 
of  the  intense  study  which  has  been  given 
to  the  connexion  between  modes  of  killing, 
and  the  flavour  or  delicacy  of  those  viands 
which  are  served  up  to  mild,  and  pacific, 
and  gentle-looking  creatures,  who  form  the 
grace  and  the  ornament  of  our  polished  so- 
ciety. One  is  almost  tempted,  after  all,  to 
look  upon  them  as  so  many  savages  in  dis- 
guise; and  so,  in  truth,  we  should,  but  for 
the  strength  of  that  opiate  whose  power 
and  whose  property  we  have  just  endea- 
voured to  explain ;  and  in  virtue  of  which, 
the  guests  of  an  entertainment  are  all  the 
while  most  profoundly  unconscious  of  the 
horrors  of  that  preparatory  scene  which 
went  before  it.  It  is  not.  therefore,  that 
there  is  hypocrisy  in  these  smiles  where- 
with they  look  so  benignly  to  each  other. 
It  is  not  that  there  is  deceit  in  their  words 
or  their  accents  of  tenderness.  The  truth 
is,  that  one  shriek  of  agony,  if  heard  from 
without,  would  cast  most  impressive  gloom 
over  this  scene  of  conviviality ;  and  the 
sight,  but  for  a  moment,  of  one  wretched 
creature  quivering  towards  death,   would, 


ON  CRUELTY   TO  ANIMALS. 


253 


with  Gorgon  spell,  dissipate  all  the  gaieties 
which  enlivened  it.  But  Nature,  as  it  were, 
hath  practised  most  subtle  reticence,  both 
on  the  senses  and  the  spirit  of  her  chil- 
dren ;  or  rather,  the  Author  of  Nature  hath, 
by  the  skill  of  his  master  hand,  instituted 
the  harmony  of  a  most  exquisite  balance 
between  the  tenderness  of  the  human  feel- 
ings and  the  listlessness  of  the  human  fa- 
culties, so  as  that,  in  the  mysterious  econo- 
my under  which  we  live,  he  may  at  once 
provide  for  the  sustenance,  and  leave  entire 
the  moral  sensibilities  of  our  species. 

But  there  is  a  still  more  wondrous  limita- 
tion than  this,  wherewith  he  hath  bounded 
and  beset  the  faculties  of  the  human  spirit. 
You  already  understand  how  it  is,  that  the 
sufferings  of  the  lower  animals  may,  when 
out  of  sight,  be  out  of  mind.  But  more  than 
this,  these  sufferings  may  be  in  sight,  and 
yet  out  of  mind.  This  is  strikingly  exem- 
plified in  the  sports  of  the  field,  in  the  midst 
of  whose  varied  and  animating^ustle,  that 
cruelty  which  all  along  is  preroit  to  the 
senses,  may  not,  for  one  moment,  have  been 
present  to  the  thoughts.  There  sits  a  some- 
what ancestral  dignity  and  glory  on  this 
favourite  pastime  of  joyous  old  England; 
when  the  gallant  knighthood,  and  the  hearty 
yeomen,  and  the  amateurs  or  virtuosos  of 
the  chase,  and  the  full  assembled  jockeyship 
of  half  a  province,  muster  together  in  all 
the  pride  and  pageantry  of  their  great  em- 
prize — and  the  panorama  of  some  noble 
landscape,  lighted  up  with  autumnal  clear- 
ness from  an  unclouded  heaven,  pours  fresh 
exhilaration  into  every  blithe  and  choice 
spirit  of  the  scene — and  every  adventurous 
heart  is  braced,  and  impatient  for  the  hazards 
of  the  coming  enterprise — and  even  the 
high-breathed  coursers  catch  the  general 
sympathy,  and  seem  to  fret  in  all  the  res- 
tiveness  of  their  yet  checked  and  irritated 
fire,  till  the  echoing  horn  shall  set  them  at 
liberty — even  that  horn  which  is  the  knell 
of  death  to  some  trembling  victim,  now 
brought  forth  of  its  lurking  place  to  the 
delighted  gaze,  and  borne  down  upon  with 
the  full  and  open  cry  of  its  ruthless  pursuers. 
Be  assured  that,  amid  the  whole  glee  and 
fervency  of  this  tumultuous  enjoyment, 
there  might  not,  in  one  single  bosom,  be 
aught  so  fiendish  as  a  principle  of  naked 
and  abstract  cruelty.  The  fear  which  gives 
its  lightning  speed  to  the  unhappy  animal; 
the  thickening  horrors  which,  in  the  pro- 
gress of  exhaustion,  must  gather  upon  its 
flight;  its  gradually  sinking  energies,  and, 
at  length,  the  terrible  certainty  of  that  de- 
struction which  is  awaiting  it;  that  piteous 
cry,  which  t ho  ear  can  sometimes  distin- 
guish amid  the  deafening  clamour  of  the 
blood-hounds,  as  they  spring  exultingly 
upon  their  prey;  the  dread  massacre  and 
dying  agonies  of  a  creature  so  miserably 
torn ; — all  this  weight  of  suffering,  we  ad- 


mit, is  not  once  sympathized  with ;  but  it  is 
just  because  the  suffering  itself  is  not  once 
thought  of.  It  touches  not  the  sensibilities 
of  the  heart;  but  just  because  it  is  never  pre- 
sent to  the  notice  of  the  mind.  We  allow 
that  the  hardy  followers  in  the  wild  romance 
of  this  occupation,  we  allow  them  to  be 
reckless  of  pain;  but  this  is  not  rejoicing  in 
pain.  Theirs  is  not  the  delight  of  savage, 
but  the  apathy  of  unreflecting  creatures. 
They  are  wholly  occupied  with  the  chase 
itself,  and  its  spirit-stirring  accompaniments, 
nor  bestow  one  moment's  thought  on  the 
dread  violence  of  that  infliction  upon  sen- 
tient nature  which  marks  its  termination. 
It  is  the  spirit  of  the  competition,  and  it 
alone,  which  goads  onward  this  hurrying 
career;  and  even  he,  who  in  at  the  death, 
is  foremost  in  the  triumph,  although  to  him 
the  death  itself  is  in  sight,  the  agony  of  its 
wretched  sufferer  is  wholly  out  of  mind. 

We  are  inclined  to  carry  this  principle 
much  farther.  We  are  not  even  sure  if, 
within  the  whole  compass  of  humanity, 
fallen  as  it  is,  there  be  such  a  thing  as  de- 
light in  suffering,  for  its  own  sake.  But, 
without  hazarding  a  controversy  on  this, 
we  hold  it  enough  for  every  practical  ob- 
ject, that  much,  and  perhaps  the  whole  of 
this  world's  cruelty,  arises  not  from  the  en- 
joyment that  is  felt  in  consequence  of  others' 
pain,  but  from  the  enjoyment  that  is  felt  in 
spite  of  it.  It  is  something  else  in  the  spec- 
tacle of  agony  which  ministers  pleasure 
than  the  agony  itself;  and  many  is  the  eye 
which  glistens  with  transport  at  the  fray  of 
animals  met  together  for  their  mutual  de- 
struction, and  which  might  be  brought  to 
weep,  if,  apart  from  all  the  excitements  of 
such  a  scene,  the  anguish  of  wounded  or 
dying  creatures  wers  placed  nakedly  before 
it.  Were  it  strictly  analyzed,  it  would  be 
found  that  the  charm,  neither  of  the  ancient 
gladiatorships,  nor  of  our  modern  prize- 
fights, lies  in  the  torture  which  is  thereby 
inflicted;  for  we  should  feel  the  very  same 
charm,  and  look  with  the  very  same  intent- 
ness,  on  some  doubtful,  yet  strenuous  colli- 
sion, even  among  the  inanimate  elements 
of  nature— as,  when  the  water  and  the  fire 
contended  for  mastery,  and  the  inherent 
force  of  the  one  was  met  by  a  plying  and 
a  powerful  enginery  that  gave  impulse  and 
direction  to  the  other.  It  is  even  so,  when 
the  enginery  of  bones  and  of  muscles  comes 
into  rivalship;  and  every  spectator  of  the 
ring  fastens  on  the  spectacle  with  that  iden- 
tical engrossment  which  he  feels  in  the 
hazards  of  some  doubtful  game,  or  in  the 
desperate  conflict  and  effervescence  even  of 
the  altogether  mute  unconscious  elements. 
To  him  it  is  little  else  than  a  problem  in 
dynamics.  There  is  a  science  connected 
with  the  fight,  which  has  displaced  the  sen 
sibilities  that  are  connected  with  its  expiring 
moans,  its  piteous  and  piercing  outcries,  its 


254 


ON  CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


cruel  lacerations.  In  all  this,  we  admit  the 
utter  heedlessness  of  pain ;  but  we  are  not 
sure  if  even  yet  there  be  aught  so  hellishly 
revolting  as  any  positive  gratification  in  the 
pain  itself — or  whether,  even  in  the  lowest 
walks  of  blackguardism  in  society,  it  do  not 
also  hold,  that  when  sufferings  even  unto 
death  are  fully  in  sight,  the  pain  of  these 
sufferings  is  as  fully  out  of  mind. 

But  the  term  science,  so  strangely  applied 
as  it  has  been  in  the  example  now  quoted, 
reminds  us  of  another  variety  in  this  most 
afflicting  detail.  Even  in  the  purely  academic 
walk  we  read  or  hear  of  the  most  appalling 
cruelties;  and  the  interest  of  that  philosophy 
wherewith  they  have  been  associated,  has 
been  plead  in  mitigation  of  them.  And  just 
as  the  moral  debasement  incurred  by  an  act 
of  theft  is  somewhat  redeemed,  if  done  by 
one  of  Science's  enamoured  worshippers, 
when,  overcome  by  the  mere  passion  of 
connoisseurship,  he  puts  forth  his  hand  on 
some  choice  specimen  of  most  tempting  and 
irresistible  peculiarity — even  so  has  a  like 
indulgence  been  extended  to  certain  perpe- 
trators of  stoutest  and  most  resolved  cruelty; 
and  that  just  because  of  the  halo  wherewith 
the  glories  of  intellect  and  of  proud  discovery 
have  enshrined  them.  And  thus  it  is,  that, 
bent  on  the  scrutiny  of  nature's  laws,  there 
are  some  of  our  race  who  have  hardihood 
enough  to  explore  and  elicit  them  at  the  ex- 
pense of  dreadest  suffering — who  can  make 
some  quaking,  some  quivering  animal,  the 
subject  of  their  hapless  experiment — who 
can  institute  a  questionary  process  by  which 
to  draw  out  the  secrets  of  its  constitution, 
and,  like  inquisitors  of  old,  extract  every 
reply  by  an  instrument  of  torture — who  can 
probe  their  unfaltering  way  among  the 
vitalities  of  a  system  which  shrinks,  and 
palpitates,  and  gives  forth,  at  every  move- 
ment of  their  steadfast  hand,  the  pulsations 
of  deepest  agony ;  and  all,  perhaps,  to  ascer- 
tain and  to  classify  the  phenomena  of  sen- 
sation, or  to  measure  the  tenacity  of  animal 
life,  by  the  power  and  exquisiteness  of  ani- 
mal endurance.  And  still,  it  is  not  because 
of  all  this  wretchedness,  but  in  spite  of  it, 
that  they  pursue  their  barbarous  occupation. 
Even  here  it  is  possible,  that  there  is  nought 
so  absolutely  Satanic  as  delight  in  those  suf- 
ferings of  which  themselves  are  the  infiict- 
ers.  That  law  of  emotion  by  which  the 
sight  of  pain  calls  forth  sympathy,  may  not 
be  reversed  into  an  opposite  law,  by  which 
the  sight  of  pain  would  call  forth  satisfaction 
or  pleasure.  The  emotion  is  not  reversed — 
it  is  only  overborne,  in  the  play  of  other 
emotions,  called  forth  by  other  objects.  He 
is  intent  on  the  science  of  those  phenomena 
which  he  investigates,  and  bethinks  not 
himself  of  the  suffering  which  they  involve 
to  the  unhappy  animal.  So  far  from  the 
sympathies  of  his  nature  being  reversed,  or 
even  annihilated,  there  is  in  most  cases  an 


effort,  and  of  great  strenuousness,  to  keep 
them  down;  and  his  heart  is  differently  af- 
fected from  that  of  other  men,  just  because 
the  regards  of  his  mental  eye  are  differently 
pointed  from  those  of  other  men.  The  whole 
bent  and  engagement  of  his  faculties  are 
similar  to  those  of  another  operator  who  is 
busied  with  the  treatment  of  a  piece  of  in- 
animate matter,  and  may  almost  be  said  to 
subject  it  to  the  torture,  when  he  puts  it  in 
the  intensely  heated  crucible,  or  applies  to 
it  the  test,  and  the  various  searching  opera- 
tions of  a  laboratory.  The  one  watches 
every  change  of  hue  in  the  substance  upon 
which  he  operates,  and  waits  for  the  re- 
sponse which  is  given  forth  by  a  spark,  or 
an  effervescence,  or  an  explosion ;  and  the 
other,  precisely  similar  to  him,  watches 
every  change  of  aspect  in  the  suffering  or 
dying  creature  that  is  before  him,  and  marks 
every  symptom  of  its  exhaustion,  or  sorer 
distress,  every  throb  of  renewed  anguish, 
every  cry,.and  every  look  of  that  pain  which 
it  can  fee!,'  though  not  articulate;  marks 
and  considers  these  in  no  other  light  than 
as  the  exponents  of  its  variously  affected 
physiology.  But  still,  could  merely  the 
same  interesting  phenomena  have  been 
evolved  without  pain,  he  would  like  it  bet- 
ter. Only  he  will  not  be  repelled  from  the 
study  of  them  by  pain.  Even  he  would 
have  had  more  comfort  in  the  study  of  a 
complex  automaton,  that  gave  out  the  same 
results  on  the  same  application.  Only,  he 
will  not  shrink  from  the  necessary  incisions, 
and  openings,  and  separation  of  parts,  al- 
though, instead  of  a  lifeless  automaton,  it 
should  be  a  sentient  and  sorely  agonized 
animal.  So  that  there  is  not  even  with  him 
any  reversal  of  the  law  of  sympathy.  There 
may  be  the  feebleness,  or  there  may  be  the 
negation  of  it.  Certain  it  is,  that  it  has  given 
way  to  other  laws  of  superior  force  in  his 
constitution.  And,  without  imputing  to  him 
aught  so  monstrous  as  the  positive  love  of 
suffering,  we  may  even  admit  for  him  a 
hatred  of  suffering,  but  that  the  love  of 
science  had  overborne  it. 

In  the  views  that  we  have  now  given,  and 
which  we  deem  of  advantage  for  the  right 
practical  treatment  of  our  question,  it  may 
be  conceived  that  we  palliate  the  atrocious- 
ness  of  cruelty.  It  is  forgotten,  that  a  charge 
of  foulest  delinquency  may  be  made  up  al- 
together of  wants  or  of  negatives  ;  and,  just 
as  the  human  face,  by  the  mere  want  of 
some  of  its  features,  although  there  should 
not  be  any  inversion  of  them,  might  be  an 
object  of  utter  loathsomeness  to  beholders, 
so  the  human  character,  by  the  mere  ab- 
sence of  certain  habits,  or  certain  sensibili- 
ties., which  belong  ordinarily  and  constitu- 
tionally to  our  species,  may  be  an  object  of 
utter  abomination  in  society.  The  want  of 
natural  affection  forms  one  article  of  the 
Apostle's  indictment  against  our  world ;  and 


ON  CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


255 


certain  it  is,  that  the  total  want  of  it  were 
stigma  enough  for  the  designation  of  a 
monster.  The  mere  want  of  religion,  or 
irreligion,  is  enough  to  make  man  an  outcast 
from  his  God.  Even  to  the  most  barbarous 
of  our  kind  you  apply,  not  the  term  of  anti- 
humanity,  but  of  inhumanity — not  the  term 
of  antisensibility:  and  you  hold  it  enough 
for  the  purpose  of  branding  him  for  general 
execration,  that  you  convicted  him  of  com- 
plete and  total  insensibility.  He  is  regaled, 
it  is  true,  by  a  spectacle  of  agony — but  not 
because  of  the  agony.  It  is  something  else, 
therewith  associated,  which  regales  him. 
But  still  lie  is  rightfully  the  subject  of  most 
emphatic  denunciation,  not  because  regaled 
by,  but  because  regardless  of,  the  agony. 
We  do  not  feel  ourselves  to  be  vindicating 
the  cruel  man,  when  we  affirm  it  to  be  not 
altogether  certain,  whether  he  rejoices  in 
the  extinction  of  life ;  for  we  count  it  a  deep 
atrocity,  that,  unlike  to  the  righteous  man 
of  our  text,  he  simply  does  not  regard  the 
life  of  a  beast.  You  may  perhaps  have  been 
accustomed  to  look  upon  the  negatives  of 
character,  as  making  up  a  sort  of  neutral  or 
midway  innocence.  But  this  is  a  mistake. 
Unfeeling  is  but  a  negative  quality ;  and  yet, 
we  speak  of  an  unfeeling  monster.  It  is 
thus  that  even  the  profound  experimental- 
ist, whose  delight  is  not  in  the  torture  which 
he  inflicts,  but  in  the  truth  which  he  elicits 
thereby,  may  become  an  object  of  keenest 
reprobation :  not  because  he  was  pleased 
with  suffering,  but  simply  because  he  did 
not  pity  it — not  because  the  object  of  pain, 
if  dwelt  upon  by  him,  would  be  followed 
up  by  any  other  emotion  than  that  which 
is  experienced  by  other  men,  but  because, 
intent  on  the  prosecution  of  another  object, 
it  was  not  so  dwelt  upon.  It  is  found  that 
the  eclat  even  of  brilliant  discovery  does 
not  shield  him  from  the  execrations  of  a 
public,  who  can  yet  convict  him  of  nothing 
more  than  simply  of  negatives — of  heed- 
lessness, of  heartlessness,  of  looking  upon 
the  agonies  of  a  sentient  creature  without 
regard,  and  therefore  without  sensibility. 
The  true  principle  of  his  condemnation  is, 
that  he  ought  to  have  regarded.  It  is  not 
that,  in  virtue  of  a  different  organic  struc- 
ture, he  feels  differently  from  others,  when 
the  same  simple  object  is  brought  to  bear 
upon  him.  But  it  is,  that  he  resolutely  kept 
that  object  at  a  distance  from  his  attention, 
or  rather,  that  he  steadily  kept  his  attention 
away  from  the  object;  and  that,  in  opposi- 
sition  to  all  the  weight  of  remonstrance 
which  lies  in  the  tremours,  and  the  writh- 
ings,  and  the  piteous  outcries  of  agonized 
Nature.  Had  we  obtained  for  these  the  re- 
gards of  his  mind,  the  relentings  of  his  heart 
might  have  followed.  His  is  not  an  anoma- 
lous heart ;  and  the  only  way  in  which  he 
can  brace  it  into  sternness,  is  by  barricad- 
ing the  avenue  which  leads  to  it.    That  fa- 


culty of  attention,  which  might  have  opened 
the  door,  through  which  suffering  without 
finds  its  way  to  sympathy  within,  is  other- 
wise engaged;  and  the  precise  charge,  on 
which  either  morality  can  rightfully  con- 
demn, or  humanity  be  offended,  is,  that  he 
wills  to  have  it  so. 

It  may  be  illustrated  by  that  competition 
of  speed  which  is  held,  with  busy  appliance 
of  whip  and  of  spur,  betwixt  animals.  A 
similar  competition  can  be  imagined  be- 
tween steam-carriages,  when,  cither  to  pre- 
serve the  distance  which  has  been  gained, 
or  to  recover  the  distance  which  has  been 
lost,  the  respective  guides  would  keep  up 
an  incessant  appliance  to  the  furnace,  and 
the  safety-valve.  Now,  the  sport  and  the 
excitement  are  the  same,  whether  this  ap- 
pliance of  force  be  to  a  dead  or  a  living 
mechanism  ;  and  the  enormity  of  the  latter 
does  not  lie  in  any  direct  pleasure  which  is 
felt  in  the  exhaustion,  or  the  soreness,  or, 
finally,  in  the  death  of  the  over-driven  ani- 
mal. If  these  awake  any  feeling  at  all  in 
the  barbarous  rider,  it  is  that  of  pain ;  and  it  is 
either  the  want  or  the  weakness  of  this  latter 
feeling,  and  not  the  presence  of  its  opposite, 
which  constitutes  him  a  barbarian.  He  does 
not  rejoice  in  animal  suffering — but  it  is 
enough  to  bring  down  upon  him  the  charge 
of  barbarity,  that  he  does  not  regard  it. 

But  these  introductory  remarks,  although 
they  lead,  I  do  think,  to  some  most  im- 
portant suggestions  for  the  management  of 
the  evil,  yet  they  serve  not  to  abate  its  ap- 
palling magnitude.  Man  is  the  direct  agent 
of  a  wide  and  continual  distress  to  the  lower 
animals,  and  the  question  is,  Can  any  me- 
thod be  devised  for  its  alleviation  %  On  this 
subject  that  scriptural  image  is  strikingly  re- 
alized, "  The  whole  inferior  creation  groan- 
ing and  travailing  together  in  pain,"  because 
of  him.  It  signifies  not  to  the  substantive 
amount  of  the  suffering,  whether  this  be 
prompted  by  the  hardness  of  his  heart,  or 
only  permitted  through  the  heedlessness  of 
his  mind.  In  either  way  it  holds  true,  not 
only  that  the  arch-devourer  man  stands 
pre-eminent  over  the  fiercest  children  of  the 
wilderness  as  an  animal  of  prey,  but  that  for 
his  lordly  and  luxurious  appetite,  as  well  as 
for  his  service  or  merest  curiosity  and  amuse- 
ment, Nature  must  be  ransacked  throughout 
all  her  elements.  Rather  than  forego  the 
veriest  gratifications  of  vanity,  he  will  wring 
them  from  the  anguish  of  wretched  and  ill- 
fated  creatures;  and  whether  for  the  indul- 
gence of  his  barbaric  sensuality,  or  barbaric 
splendour,  can  stalk  paramount  over  the 
sufferings  of  that  prostrate  creation  which 
has  been  placed  beneath  his  feet.  That 
beauteous  domain  whereof  he  has  been  con- 
stituted the  terrestrial  sovereign,  jjives  out 
so  many  blissful  and  benignant  aspects ;  and 
whether  we  look  to  its  peaceful  lakes,  or  its 
flowery  landscapes,  or  its  evening  skies,  or 


256 


ON  CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


to  all  that  soft  attire  which  overspreads  the 
hills  and  the  valleys,  lighted  up  by  smiles 
of  sweetest  sunshine,  and  where  animals 
disport  themselves  in  all  the  exuberance  of 
gaiety — this  surely  were  a  more  befitting 
scene  for  the  rule  of  clemency,  than  for  the 
iron  rod  of  a  murderous  and  remorseless 
tyrant.  But  the  present  is  a  mysterious 
world  wherein  we  dwell.  It  still  bears 
much  upon  its  materialism  of  the  impress 
of  Paradise.  But  a  breath  from  the  air  of 
Pandemonium  has  gone  over  its  living  ge- 
nerations. And  so  "  the  fear  of  man,  and 
the  dread  of  man,  is  how  upon  every  beast 
of  the  earth,  and  upon  every  fowl  of  the  air, 
upon  all  that  moveth  upon  the  earth,  and 
upon  all  the  fishes  of  the  sea ;  into  man's 
hands  are  they  delivered:  every  moving 
thing  that  liveth  is  meat  for  him ;  yea,  even 
as  the  green  herbs,  there  have  been  given 
to  him  all  things."  Such  is  the  extent  of 
his  jurisdiction,  and  with  most  full  and 
wanton  license  has  he  revelled  among  its 
privileges.  The  whole  earth  labours  and  is 
in  violence  because  of  his  cruelties;  and, 
from  the  amphitheatre  of  sentient  Nature, 
there  sounds  in  fancy's  ear  the  bleat  of  one 
wide  a;nd  universal  suffering, — a  dreadful 
homage  to  the  power  of  Nature's  consti- 
tuted lord. 

These  sufferings  are  really  felt.  The 
beasts  of  the  field  are  not  so  many  automata 
without  sensation,  and  just  so  constructed 
as  to  give  forth  all  the  natural  signs  and 
expressions  of  it.  Nature  has  not  practised 
this  universal  deception  upon  our  species. 
These  poor  animals  just  look,  and  tremble, 
and  give  forth  the  very  indications  of  suf- 
fering that  we  do.  Theirs  is  the  distinct  cry 
of  pain.  Theirs  is  the  unequivocal  physiog- 
nomy of  pain.  They  put  on  the  same  aspect 
of  terror  on  the  demonstrations  of  a  menacing 
blow.  They  exhibit  the  same  distortions  of 
agony  after  the  infliction  of  it.  The  bruise, 
or  the  burn,  or  the  fracture,  or  the  deep 
incision,  or  the  fierce  encounter  with  one 
of  equal  or  superior  strength,  just  affects 
them  similarly  to  ourselves.  Their  blood 
circulates  as  ours.  They  have  pulsations 
in  various  parts  of  the  body  like  ours. 
They  sicken,  and  they  grow  feeble  with 
age,  and,  finally,  they  die  just  as  we  do. 
They  possess  the  same  feelings ;  and  what 
exposes  them  to  like  suffering  from  another 
quarter,  they  possess  the  same  instincts 
with  our  own  species.  The  lioness  robbed 
of  her  whelps  causes  the  wilderness  to  ring 
aloud  with  the  proclamation  of  her  wrongs ; 
or  the  bird  whose  little  household  has  been 
stolen,  fills  and  saddens  all  the  grove  with 
melodies  of  deepest  pathos.  All  this  is  pal- 
pable even  to  the  general  and  unlearned 
eye;  and  when  the  physiologist  lays  open 
the  recesses  of  their  system  by  means  of 
that  scalpel,  under  whose  operation  they 
just  shrink  and  are  convulsed  as  any  living 


subject  of  our  own  species,  there  stands 
forth  to  view  the  same  sentient  apparatus, 
and  furnished  with  the  same  conductors  for 
the  transmission  of  feeling  to  every  minut- 
est pore  upon  the  surface.  Theirs  is  un- 
mixed and  unmitigated  pain — the  agonies 
of  martyrdom,  without  the  alleviation  of 
the  hopes  and  the  sentiments,  whereof  they 
are  incapable.  When  they  lay  them  down 
to  die,  their  only  fellowship  is  with  suffer- 
ing, for  in  the  prison-house  of  their  beset 
and  bounded  faculties,  there  can  no  relief 
be  afforded  by  communion  with  other  in- 
terests or  other  things.  The  attention  does 
not  lighten  their  distress  as  it  does  that  of 
man,  by  carrying  off  his  spirit  from  that 
existing  pungency  and  pressure  which 
might  else  be  overwhelming.  There  is  but 
room  in  their  mysterious  economy  for  one 
inmate  ;  and  that  is,  the  absorbing  sense  of 
their  own  single  and  concentrated  anguish. 
And  so  in  that  bed  of  torment,  whereon 
the  wounded  animal  lingers  and  expires, 
there  is  an  unexplored  depth  and  intensity 
of  suffering  which  the  poor  dumb  animal 
itself  cannot  tell,  and  against  which  it  can 
offer  no  remonstrance ;  an  untold  and  un- 
known amount  of  wretchedness,  of  which 
no  articulate  voice  gives  utterance.  But 
there  is  an  eloquence  in  its  silence  ;  and  the 
very  shroud  which  disguises  it,  only  serves 
to  aggravate  its  horrors. 

We  now  come  to  the  practical  treatment 
of  this  question — to  the  right  method  of 
which,  we  hold  the  views  that  are  now 
offered  to  be  directly  and  obviously  sub- 
servient. 

First,  then,  upon  this  subject,  we  should 
hold  no  doubtful  casuistry.  We  should  ad- 
vance no  pragmatic  or  controversial  doc- 
trine. We  should  carefully  abstain  from 
all  such  ambiguous  or  questionable  posi- 
tions, as  the  unlawfulness  of  animal  food, 
or  the  unlawfulness  of  animal  experiments. 
We  should  not  even  deem  it  the  right  tac- 
tics for  this  moral  warfare,  to  take  up  the 
position  of  the  unlawfulness  of  field-sports, 
or  yet  the  unlawfulness  of  those  competi 
tions,  whether  of  strength  or  of  speed, 
which  at  one  time  on  the  turf,  and  at  an- 
other in  the  ring,  are  held  forth  to  the  view 
of  assembled  spectators.  We  are  aware  that 
some  of  these  positions  are  not  so  ques- 
tionable, yet  we  should  refrain  from  the 
elaboration  of  them  ;  for  we  hold,  that  this 
is  not  the  way  by  which  we  shall  most  ef- 
fectually make  head  against  the  existing 
cruelties  of  our  land.  The  moral  force  by 
which  our  cause  is  to  be  advanced,  does  not 
lie  even  in  the  soundest  categories  of  an 
ethical  jurisprudence — and  far  less  in  the 
dogmata  of  any  paltry  sectarianism.  We 
have  almost  as  little  inclination  for  the  con- 
troversy which  respects  animal  food,  as  we 
have  for  the  controversy  about  the  eating 
of  blood ;  and  this,  we  repeat,  is  not  the 


ON  CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS 


257 


way  by  which  the  claims  of  the  inferior 
animals  are  practically  to  be  carried.  To 
obtain  the  regards  of  man's  heart  in  behalf 
of  the  lower  animals,  we  should  strive  to 
draw  the  regards  of  his  mind  towards 
them.  We  should  avail  ourselves  of  the 
close  alliance  that  obtains  between  the  re- 
gards of  his  attention,  and  those  of  his  sym- 
pathy. For  this  purpose,  we  should  im- 
portunately ply  him  with  the  objects  of 
suffering,  and  thus  call  up  its  respondent 
emotion  of  sympathy,  that  among  the 
other  objects  which  have  hitherto  engross- 
ed his  attention,  and  the  other  desires  or 
emotions  which  have  hitherto  lorded  it 
over  tin'  compassion  of  his  nature  and  over- 
powere  1  it,  this  last  may  at  length  be  re- 
stored to  its  legitimate  play,  and  reinstated 
in  all  its  legitimate  pre-eminence  over  the 
other  affections  or  appetites  which  belong 
to  him.  It  affords  a  hopeful  view  of  our 
cause,  that  so  much  can  be  done  by  the 
mere  obtrusive  presentation  of  the  object  to 
the  notice  of  society.  It  is  a  comfort  to 
know,  that  in  this  benevolent  warfare  we 
have  to  make  head,  not  so  much  against 
the  cruelty  of  the  public,  as  against  the 
heedlessness  of  the  public ;  that  to  hold 
forth  a  right  view,  is  the  way  to  call  forth 
a  right  sensibility  ;  and,  that  to  assail  the 
seat  of  any  emotion,  our  likeliest  process  is 
to  make  constant  and  conspicuous  exhibi- 
tion of  the  object  which  is  fitted  to  awaken 
it.  Our  text,  taken  from  the  profoundest 
book  of  experimental  wisdom  in  the  world, 
keeps  clear  of  every  questionable  or  ca- 
suistic;!! dogma;  and  rests  the  whole  cause 
of  the  inferior  animals  on  one  moral  ele- 
ment, which  is,  in  respect  of  principle, 
and  on  one  practical  method,  which  is,  in 
respect  of  efficacy,  unquestionable:  "A 
righteous  man  regardeth  the  life  of  his 
beast."  Let  a  man  be  but  righteous  in  the 
general  and  obvious  sense  of  the  word,  and 
let  the  regard  of  his  attention  be  but  di- 
rected to  the  case  of  the  inferior  animals, 
and  then  the  regard  of  his  sympathy  will 
be  awakened  to  the  full  extent  at  which  it 
is  either  duteous  or  desirable.  Still  it  mav 
be  asked  to  what  extent  will  the  duty  go? 
and  our  reply  is,  that  we  had  rather  push 
the  duty  forward  than  be  called  upon  to  de- 
fine the  extreme  termination  of  it.  Yet 
we  do  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  we  foresee 
not  aught  so  very  extreme  as  the  abolition 
of  animal  food  ;  but  we  do  foresee  the  in- 
definite abridgement  of  all  that  cruelty 
which  subserves  the  gratifications  of  a  base 
and  si- dish  epicurism.  We  think  that  a 
christian  and  humanized  society  will  at 
length  lift  their  prevalent  voice,  for  the 
least  possible  expense  of  suffering  to  all  the 
victims  of  a  necessary  slaughter — for  a 
business  of  utmost  horror  being  also  a 
business  of  utmost  despatch — for  the  blow, 
in  short,  of  an  instant  extermination,  that 
33 


not  one  moment  might  elapse  between  a 
state  of  pleasurable  existence  and  a  state 
of  profound  unconsciousness.  Again,  we 
do  not  foresee,  but  with  the  perfecting  of 
the  two  sciences  of  anatomy  and  physio- 
logy, the  abolition  of  animal  experiments  ; 
but  we  do  foresee  a  gradual,  and,  at  length, 
a  complete  abandonment  of  the  experiments 
of  illustration,  which  are  at  present  a  thou- 
sand-fold more  numerous  than  the  experi- 
ments of  humane  discovery. 

As  to  field-sports,  we  for  the  present,  ab- 
stain from  all  prophecy,  in  regard,  either  to 
their  growing  disuse,  or  to  the  conclusive 
extinction  of  them.  We  are  quite  sure,  in 
the  mean  time,  that  casuistry  upon  this 
subject  would  be  altogether  powerless ;  and 
nothing  could  be  imagined  more  keenly,  or 
more  energetically  contemptuous,  than  the 
impatient,  the  impetuous  disdain  where- 
with  the  enamoured  votaries  of  this  gay 
and  glorious  adventure  would  listen  to  any 
demonstration  of  its  unlawfulness.  We 
shall  therefore  make  no  attempt  to  dogma- 
tise them  out  of  that  fond  and  favourite 
amusement  which  they  prosecute  with  all 
the  intensity  of  a  passion.  It  is  not  thus 
that  the  fascination  will  be  dissipated.  And. 
therefore,  for  the  present,  we  should  be  in- 
clined to  subject  the  lovers  of  the  chase, 
and  the  lovers  of  the  prize-fight,  to  the 
same  treatment,  even  as  there  exists  be- 
tween them,  we  are  afraid,  the  affinity  of 
a  certain  common  or  kindred  character. 
There  is,  we  have  often  thought,  a  kind 
of  professional  cast,  a  family  likeness,  by 
which  the  devotees  of  game,  and  of  all  sort? 
of  stirring  or  hazardous  enterprise  admit 
of  being  recognized;  the  hue  of  a  certain 
assimilating  quality,  although  of  various 
gradations,  from  the  noted  champions  of 
the  hunt,  to  the  noted  champions  of  the 
ring  or  of  the  racing-course;  a  certain  dasl. 
of  moral  outlawry,  if  I  may  use  the  ex- 
pression, among  all  those  children  of  high 
and  heated  adventure,  that  bespeaks  them 
a  distinct  class  in  society, — a  set  of  wild 
and  wayward  humourists,  who  have  broken 
them  loose  from  the  dull  regularities  of  life, 
and  formed  themselves  into  so  many  trusty 
and  sworn  brotherhoods,  wholly  given  over 
to  frolic,  and  excitement,  and  excess,  in 
all  their  varieties.  They  compose  a  sepa- 
rate and  outstanding  public  among  them- 
selves, nearly  arrayed  in  the  same  pictu- 
resque habiliments — bearing  most  distinctly 
upon  their  countenance  the  same  air  of 
recklessness  and  hardihood — admiring  the 
same  feats  of  dexterity  or  danger — indulg- 
ing the  same  tastes,  even  to  their  very 
literature — members  of  the  same  sporting 
society — readers  of  the  same  sporting  ma- 
gazine, whose  strange  medley  of  anecdotes 
gives  impressive  exhibition  of  that  one  and 
pervading  characteristic  for  which  we  are 
contending;   anecdotes  of  the  chase,  and 


258 


ON  CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


anecdotes  of  the  high-breathed  or  bloody 
contest,  and  anecdotes  of  the  gaming-table, 
and,  lastly,  anecdotes  of  the  high-way. 
We  do  not  just  affirm  a  precise  identity  be- 
tween all  the  specimens  or  species  in  this 
very  peculiar  department  of  moral  history. 
But,  to  borrow  a  phrase  from  natural  his- 
tory, we  affirm,  that  there  are  transition 
processes,  by  which  the  one  melts,  and  de- 
moralises, and  graduates  insensibly  into  the 
other.  What  we  have  now  to  do  with,  is 
the  cruelty  of  their  respective  entertain- 
ments— a  cruelty,  however,  upon  which 
we  could  not  assert,  even  of  the  very  worst 
and  most  worthless  among  them,  that  they 
rejoice  in  pain,  but  that  they  are  regardless 
of  pain.  It  is  not  by  the  force  of  a  mere 
ethical  dictum,  in  itself,  perhaps,  unques- 
tionable, that  they  will  be  restrained  from 
their  pursuits.  But  when  transformed  by 
the  operation  of  unquestionable  principle, 
into  righteous  and  regardful  men,  they  will 
spontaneously  abandon  them.  Meanwhile, 
we  try  to  help  forward  our  cause,  by  forcing 
upon  general  regard,  those  sufferings  which 
are  now  so  unheeded  and  unthought  of. 
And  we  look  forward  to  its  final  triumph, 
as  one  of  those  results  that  will  historically 
ensue,  in  the  train  of  an  awakened  and  a 
moralized  society. 

The  institution  of  a  yearly  sermon  against 
cruelty  to  animals,  is  of  itself  a  likely 
enough  expedient,  that  might  at  least  be  of 
some  auxiliary  operation,  along  with  other 
and  more  general  causes,  towards  such  an 
awakening.  It  is  not  by  one,  but  by  many 
successive  appeals,  that  the  cause  of  justice 
and  mercy  to  the  brute  creation  will  at 
length  be  practically  carried.  On  this  sub- 
ject I  cannot,  within  the  limits  of  a  single 
address,  pretend  to  aught  like  a  full  or  a 
finished  demonstration.  This  might  require 
not  one,  but  a  whole  century  of  sermons ; 
and  many  therefore  are  the  topics  which 
necessarily  I  must  bequeath  to  my  succes- 
sors, in  this  warfare  against  the  listlessness 
and  apathy  of  the  public.  And,  beside  the 
force  and  the  impression  of  new  topics,  if 
there  be  any  truth  in  our  doctrine,  there  is 
a  mighty  advantage  gained  upon  this  sub- 
ject of  all  others  by  the  repetition  of  old 
topics.  It  is  a  subject  on  which  the  pub- 
lic do  not  require  so  much  to  be  instruct- 
ed, as  to  be  reminded ;  to  have  the  re- 
gard of  their  attention  directed  again  and 
again  to  the  sufferings  of  poor  helpless 
creatures,  that  the  regard  of  their  sympathy 
might  at  length  be  effectually  obtained  for 
them.  This  then  is  a  cause  to  which  the 
institution  of  an  anniversary  pleading  in  its 
favour,  is  most  precisely  and  peculiarly 
adapted.  And  besides,  we  must  confess,  in  the 
general,  our  partiality  for  a  scheme  that  has 
originated  the  Boyle,  and  the  Bampton,  and 
the  Warburtonian  lectureships  of  England, 
with  all  the  valuable  authorship  which  has 


proceeded  from  them.  An  endowment  foi 
an  annual  discourse  upon  a  given  theme,  is, 
we  believe,  a  novelty  in  Scotland  ;  though 
it  is  to  similar  institutions  that  much  of  the 
best  sacred  and  theological  literature  of  our 
sister  country  is  owing.  We  should  rejoice 
if,  in  this  our  comparatively  meagre  and 
unbeneficed  land,  both  these  themes  and 
these  endowments  were  multiplied.  We 
recommend  this  as  a  fit  species  of  charity 
for  the  munificence  of  wealthy  individuals. 
Whatever  their  selected  argument  shall  be, 
whether  that  of  cruelty  to  animals,  or  some 
one  evidence  of  our  faith,  or  the  defence  and 
illustration  of  a  doctrine,  or  any  distinct 
method  of  Christian  philanthropy  for  the 
moral  regeneration  of  our  species,  or  aught 
else  01  those  innumerable  topics  that  lie 
situated  within  the  reach  and  ample  domain 
of  that  revelation  which  God  has  made  to 
our  world — we  feel  assured  that  such  a 
movement  must  be  responded  to  with  bene- 
ficial effect,  both  by  the  gifted  pastors  of 
our  Church,  and  by  the  aspiring  youths  of 
greatest  power  or  greatest  promise  among 
its  candidates.  Such  institutions  as  these 
would  help  to  quicken  the  energies  of  our 
establishment ;  and  through  means  of  a 
sustained  and  reiterated  effort,  directed  to 
some  one  great  lesson,  whether  in  theology 
or  morals,  they  might  impress,  and  thai 
more  deeply  every  year,  some  specific  and 
most  salutary  amelioration  on  the  princi- 
ples or  the  practices  of  general  society. 

Yet  ye  are  loath  to  quit  our  subject  with- 
out one  appeal  more  in  behalf  of  those  poor 
sufferers,  who,  unable  to  advocate  their 
own  cause,  possess,  on  that  very  account, 
a  more  imperative  claim  on  the  exertions 
of  him  who  now  stands  as  their  advocate 
before  you. 

And  first,  it  may  have  been  felt  that,  by 
the  way  in  which  we  have  attempted  to 
resolve  cruelty  into  its  elements,  we  instead 
of  launching  rebuke  against  it,  have  only 
devised  a  palliation  for  its  gross  and  shock- 
ing enormity.  But  it  is  not  so.  It  is  true, 
we  count  the  enormity  to  lie  mainly  in  the 
heedlessness  of  pain ;  but  then  we  charge 
this  foully  and  flagrantly  enormous  thing, 
not  on  the  mere  desperadoes  and  barbarians 
of  our  land,  but  on  the  men  and  the  women 
of  general,  and  even  of  cultivated  and  high- 
bred society.  Instead  of  stating  cruelty  to 
be  what  it  is  not,  and  then  confining  the 
imputation  of  it  to  the  outcast  few,  we  hold 
it  better,  and  practically  far  more  impor- 
tant, to  state  what  cruelty  really  is,  and  then 
fasten  the  imputation  of  it  on  the  common- 
place and  the  companionable  many.  Those 
outcasts  to  whom  you  would  restrict  the 
condemnation,  are  not  at  present  within 
the  reach  of  our  voice.  But  you  are ;  and 
it  lies  with  you  to  confer  a  ten-fold  greater 
boon  on  the  inferior  creation,  than  if  all 
barbarous  sports,  and  all  bloody  experi- 


ON  CRUKLTY   TO  ANIMALS 


259 


mcnts  were  forthwith  put  an  end  to.    It  is 
at  tiie  bidding  of  your  collective  will  to  save 
those  countless  myriads  who  are  brought  to 
the  regular  and  the  daily  slaughter,  all  the 
difference  between  a  gradual  and  an  instant 
death.     And  there  is  a  practice  realized  in 
every-day  life,  which  you  can  put  down 
— a  practice  which  strongly  reminds  us  of  a 
ruder  age  that  has  long  gone  by ; — when 
even  beauteous  and  high-born  ladies  could 
partake  in  the  dance,  and  the  song,  and  the 
festive  chivalry  of  barbaric  castles,  unmind- 
ful of  all  the  piteous  and  the  pining  agony 
of  dungeoned  prisoners  below.    We  charge 
a  like  unmindfulncss  on  the  present  gene- 
ration. We  know  not  whether  those  wretch- 
ed animals  whose  still  sentient  frameworks 
arc  under  process  of  ingenious  manufacture 
for  the  epicurism  or  the  splendour  of  your 
coming  entertainment, — we  know  not  whe- 
ther they  are  now  dying  by  inches  in  your 
own  subterranean  keeps,  or  through  the 
subdivided  industry  of  our  commercial  age, 
are  now  suffering  all  the  horrors  of  their 
protracted  agony,  in  the  prison-house  of 
some  distant    street   where   this   dreadful 
trade  is  carried  on.     But  truly  it  matters 
nought  to  our  argument,  ye  heedless  sons 
and  daughters  of  gaiety  !  We  speak  not  of 
the  daily  thousands  who  have  to  die  that 
man  may  live;  but  of  those  thousands  who 
have  to  die  more  painfully,  just  that  man 
may  live  more  luxuriously.     We  speak  to 
you  of  the  art  and  the  mystery  of  the  kill- 
ing trade — from    which  it  would   appear, 
that  not  alone  the  delicacy  of  the  food,  but 
even  its  appearance,  is,  among  the  connois- 
seurs of  a  refined  epicurism,  the  matter  of 
skilful  and  scientific  computation.     There 
is  a  sequence,  it  would  appear — there  is  a 
sequence  between  an  exquisite  death,  and 
an  exquisite  or  a  beautiful  preparation  of 
cookery ;  and  just  in  the  ordinary  way  that 
art  avails  herself  of  the  other  sequences  of 
philosophy, — the  first  term  is  made  sure, 
that  the  second  term  might,  according  to 
the  metaphysic  order  of  causation,  follow 
in  its  train.     And  hence,  we  are  given  to 
understand,  hence  the  cold-blooded  ingenui- 
ties of  that  previous  and  preparatory  tor- 
ture which  oft  is  undergone,  both  that  man 
might  be  feasted  with  a  finer  relish,  and 
that  the  eyes  of  man  might  be  feasted  and 
regaled  with  a  finer  spectacle.     The  atroci- 
ties of  a  Majendie  have  been  blazoned  be- 
fore the  eye  of  a  Hritish  public  ;  but  this  is 
worse  in  the  fearful  extent  and  magnitude 
of  the  evil — truly  worse  than  a  thousand 
Majendirs.    His  is  a  cruel  luxury,  but  it  is  the 
luxury  of  intellect.     Yours  is  both  a  cruel 
and  a  sensual  luxury:  and  you  have  posi- 
tively nought  to  plead  for  it  but  the  most 
worthlessand  ignoble  appetitesof  our  nature. 
But,  secondly,  and  if  possible  to  secure 
your  kindness  for  our  cause,  let  me,  in  the 
act  of  drawing  these  lengthened  observa- 


tions to  a  close,  offer  to  your  notice  the 
bright  and  the  beautiful  side  of  it.  1  would 
bid  you  think  of  all  that  fond  and  pleasant 
imager)',  which  is  associated  even  with  the 
lower  animals,  when  they  become  the  ob- 
jects of  a  benevolent  care,  which  at  length 
ripens  into  a  strong  and  cherished  affi 
for  them — as  wiien  the  worn-out  hunter  is 
permitted  to  graze,  and  be  still  the  favourite 
of  all  the  domestics  through  the  remainder 
of  his  life;  or  the  old  anil  shaggy  house- 
dog, that  has  now  ceased  to  be  serviceable, 
is  nevertheless  sure  of  its  regular  meals,  and 
a  decent  funeral;  or  when  an  adopted  in- 
mate of  the  household  is  claimed  as  pro- 
perty, or  as  the  object  of  decided  partiality, 
by  some  one  or  other  of  the  children  ;  or, 
finally,  when  in  the  warmth  and  comfort  of 
the  evening  fire,  one  or  more  of  these  home 
animals  take  their  part  in  the  living  groupe 
that  is  around  it,  and  their  very  presence 
serves  to  complete  the  picture  of  a  blissful 
and  smiling  family.  Such  relationships 
with  the  inferior  creatures,  supply  many  of 
our  finest  associations  of  tenderness,  and 
give,  even  to  the  heart  of  man,  some  of  its 
simplest  yet  sweetest  enjoyments.  He  even 
can  find  in  these  some  compensation  for  (he 
dread  and  the  disquietude  wherewith  his 
bosom  is  agitated  amid  the  fiery  conflicts 
of  infuriated  men.  When  he  retires  from 
the  stormy  element  of  debate,  and  exchanges, 
for  the  vindictive  glare,  and  the  hideous  dis- 
cords of  that  outcry  which  he  encounters 
among  his  fellows, — when  these  are  ex- 
changed for  the  honest  welcome  and  the 
guileless  regards  of  those  creatures  who 
gambol  at  his  feet,  he  feels  that  even  in  the 
society  of  the  brutes,  in  whose  hearts  there 
is  neither  care  nor  controyersy,  he  can  sur- 
round himself  with  a  better  atmosphere  far, 
than  in  that  which  he  breathes  among  the 
companionships  of  his  own  species.  Here 
he  can  rest  himself  from  the  fatigues  of  that 
moral  tempest  which  has  beat  upon  him  so 
violently;  and,  in  the  play  of  kindliness 
with  these  poor  irrationals,  his  spirit  can 
forget  for  awhile  all  the  injustice  a': 
rocity  of  their  boasted  lords. 

But  this  is  only  saying,  that  our  subject 
is  connected  with  the  pleasures  of  senti- 
ment. And  therefore,  in  the  third  and  last 
place,  we  have  to  offer  it  as  our  concluding 
observation,  that  it  is  also  connected  with 
the  principles  of  deepest  sacredness.  It  may 
be  thought  by  some  thai  we  have  wasted 
the  whole  of  this  Sabbath  morn,  on  uh.  ; 
maybe  ranked  among  hut  the  lesser  m< -rail- 
ties  of  human  conduct.  But  there  is  one 
aspect,  in  which  it  may  be  regarded  as  more 
profoundly  and  more  peculiarly  religious 
than  any  one  virtue  which  reciprocates,  or 
is  of  mutual  operation  among  the  fellows 
of  the  same  species.  It  is  a  virtue  which 
oversteps,  as  it  were,  the  limits  of  a  species, 
and  which,  in  this  instance,  prompts  a  de- 


260 


ON  CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


scending  movement,  on  our  part,  of  righ- 
teousness and  mercy  towards  those  who 
have  an  inferior  place  to  ourselves  in  the 
scale  of  creation.  The  lesson  of  this  day  is 
not  the  circulation  of  benevolence  within 
the  limits  of  one  species.  It  is  the  trans- 
mission of  it  from  one  species  to  another. 
The  first  is  but  the  charity  of  a  world.  The 
second  is  the  charity  of  a  universe.  Had 
there  been  no  such  charity,  no  descending 
current  of  love  and  of  liberality  from  spe- 
cies to  species,  what,  I  ask,  should  have 
become  of  ourselves?  Whence  have  we 
learned  this  attitude  of  lofty  unconcern 
about  the  creatures  who  are  beneath  us? 
Not  from  those  ministering  spirits  who  wait 
upon  the  heirs  of  salvation.  Not  from  those 
angels  who  circle  the  throne  of  heaven,  and 
make  all  its  arches  ring  with  joyful  har- 
mony, when  but  one  sinner  of  this  prostrate 
world  turns  his  footsteps  towards  them. 
Not  from  that  mighty  and  mysterious  visi- 
tant, who  unrobed  Him  of  all  his  glories, 
and  bowed  down  his  head  unto  the  sacri- 
fice, and  still,  from  the  seat  of  his  now  ex- 
alted mediatorship,  pours  forth  his  interces- 
sions and  his  calls  in  behalf  of  the  race  he 
died  for.  Finally,  not  from  the  eternal 
Father  of  all,  in  the  pavilion  of  whose  resi- 
dence there  is  the  golden  treasury  of  all 
those  bounties  and  beatitudes  that  roll  over 
the  face  of  nature,  and  from  the  footstool  of 
whose  empyreal  throne  there  reaches  a 
golden  chain  of  providence  to  the  very 
humblest  of  his  family.  He  who  hath 
given  his  angels  charge  concerning  us, 
means  that  the  tide  of  beneficence  should 
pass  from  order  to  order,  through  all  the 
ranks  of  his  magnificent  creation ;  and  we 
ask,  is  it  with  man  that  this  goodly  provi- 
sion is  to  terminate — or  shall  he,  with  all 
his  sensations  of  present  blessedness,  and 
all  his  visions  of  future  glory  let  down  upon 
him  from  above,  shall  he  turn  him  selfishly 


and  scornfully  away  from  the  rights  of 
those  creatures  whom  God  hath  placed  in 
dependence  under  him?  We  know  that  the 
cause  of  poor  and  unfriended  animals  has 
many  an  obstacle  to  contend  with  in  the  dif- 
ficulties or  the  delicacies  of  legislation.  But 
we  shall  ever  deny  that  it  is  a  theme  be- 
neath the  dignity  of  legislation ;  or  that 
the  nobles  and  the  senators  of  our  land 
stoop  to  a  cause  which  is  degrading,  when, 
in  the  imitation  of  heaven's  high  clemency, 
they  look  benignly  downward  on  these 
humble  and  helpless  sufferers.  Ere  we 
can  admit  this,  we  must  forget  the  whole 
economy  of  our  blessed  gospel.  We  must 
forget  the  legislations  and  the  cares  of 
the  upper  sanctuary  in  behalf  of  our  fallen 
species.  WTe  must  forget  that  the  redemp- 
tion of  our  world  is  suspended  on  an  act  of 
jurisprudence  which  angels  desired  to  look 
into,  and  for  effectuating  which,  the  earth 
we  tread  upon  was  honoured  by  the  foot- 
steps, not  of  angel  or  of  archangel,  but  of 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh.  The  distance 
upward  between  us  and  that  mysterious 
Being,  who  let  himself  down  from  heaven's 
high  concave  upon  our  lowly  platform,  sur- 
passes by  infinity  the  distance  downward 
between  us  and  every  thing  that  breathes. 
And  He  bowed  himself  thus  far  for  the  pur- 
pose of  an  example,  as  well  as  for  the  pur- 
pose of  an  expiation ;  that  every  Christian 
might  extend  his  compassionate  regards 
over  the  whole  of  sentient  and  suffering  na- 
ture. The  high  court  of  Parliament  is  not 
degraded  by  its  attentions  and  its  cares  in 
behalf  of  inferior  creatures,  else  the  Sanc- 
tuary of  Heaven  has  been  degraded  by  its 
counsels  in  behalf  of  the  world  we  occupy, 
and  in  the  execution  of  which  the  Lord  of 
heaven  himself  relinquished  the  highest 
seat  of  glory  in  the  universe,  and  went 
forth  to  sojourn  for  a  time  on  this  outcast 
and  accursed  territory. 


SERMONS 

PREACHED  IN  ST.  JOHN'S  CHURCH, 

GLASGOW. 


PREFACE. 


The  following  Sermons  are  of  too  miscellaneous  a  character  to  be  arranged  ac- 
cording to  the  succession  of  their  topics,  and  they  are,  therefore,  presented  to  the 
reader  as  so  many  compositions  that  are  almost  wholly  independent  of  each  other. 

Two  of  the  Sermons  treat  of  Predestination,  and  the  Sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost. 
There  are  topics  of  a  highly  speculative  character,  in  the  system  of  Christian 
Doctrine,  which  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  manage,  without  interesting  the 
curiosity  rather  than  the  conscience  of  the  reader.  And  yet,  it  is  from  their  fitness 
of  application  to  the  conscience,  that  they  derive  their  chief  right  to  appear  in  a 
volume  of  Sermons;  and  I  should  not  have  ventured  any  publication  upon  either 
of  these  doctrines,  did  I  not  think  them  capable  of  being  so  treated  as  to  subserve 
the  great  interests  of  practical  godliness. 

The  Sermons  all  relate  to  topics  that  I  hold  to  be  strictly  congregational,  with 
the  exception  of  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  in  the  volume,  which  helong  rather 
to  Christian  Economies,  than  to  Christian  Theology — to  the  "  outer  things  of  the 
house  of  God,"  rather  than  to  the  things  of  the  sanctuary,  or  the  intimacies  of  the 
spiritual  life.  I,  perhaps,  ought  therefore  to  apologize  for  the  appearance  of  these 
two  in  a  volume  of  Congregational  Sermons,  and  yet  I  have  been  led  by  experi- 
ence to  feel  the  religious  importance  of  their  subject,  and  I  think  that  much  injury 
has  been  sustained  by  the  souls  of  our  people,  from  the  neglect  of  obvious  princi- 
ples both  in  the  business  of  education,  and  in  the  business  of  public  charity.  I 
have,  however,  more  comfort  in  discussing  this  argument  from  the  press,  than 
from  the  pulpit,  which  ought  to  be  kept  apart  for  loftier  themes,  and  which  seems 
to  suffer  a  sort  of  desecration  when  employed  as  the  vehicle  for  any  thing  else 
than  the  overtures  of  pardon  to  the  sinner,  and  the  hopes  and  duties  of  the  believer. 


SERMON  I. 


The  Constancy  of  God  in  His  Works  an  Jlrgument  for  the  Faithfulness  of  Hod  m 

His  Word. 

"  For  ever,  O  Lord,  thy  word  is  settled  in  heaven.  Thy  faithfulness  is  unto  all  generations  :  thou  hast  esta- 
blished the  earth,  and  it  abideth.  They  continue  this  day  according  to  thy  ordinances:  for  all  are  thy 
servants." — Psalm  c.xix.  89,  90,  91. 


In  these  verses  there  is  affirmed  to  bean 
analogy  between  the  word  of  God  and  the 
works  of  God.  It  is  said  of  his  word,  that  it 
is  s  ittled  in  heaven,  and  that  it  sustains  its 
faithfulness  from  one  generation  to  another. 
It  is  said  of  his  works,  and  more  especially 
of  those  thai  are  immediately  around  us, 
even  of  the  earth  which  we  inhabit,  that  as 
s  established  at  the  first  so  it  abideth 


afterwards.  And  then,  as  if  to  perfect  the 
assimilation  between  them,  it  is  said  of  both 
in  the  91st  verse,  "They  continue  this  day 
according  to  thine  ordinances,  for  all  are 
thy  servants;"  thereby  identifying  ihesure- 
ness  of  that  word  which  proceeded  from  his 
lips,  witli  the  unfailing  constancy  of  that 
Nature  which  was  formed  and  is  upholden 
by  his  hands. 

371 


262 


THE  CONSTANCY  OF  GOD  IN  HIS  WORKS 


[sERM. 


The  constancy  of  Nature  is  taught  by 
universal  experience,  and  even  strikes  the 
popular  eye  as  the  most  characteristic  of 
those  features  which  have  been  impressed 
upon  her.  It  may  need  the  aid  of  philosophy 
to  learn  how  unvarying  Nature  is  in  all  her 
processes — how  even  her  seeming  anomalies 
can  be  traced  to  a  law  that  is  inflexible — 
how  what  might  appear  at  first  to  be  the 
caprices  of  her  waywardness,  are,  in  fact, 
the  evolutions  of  a  mechanism  that  never 
changes — and  that  the  more  thoroughly  she 
is  sifted  and  put  to  the  test  by  the  interroga- 
tions of  the  curious,  the  more  certainly  will 
they  find  that  she  walks  by  a  rule  which 
knows  no  abatement,  and  perseveres  with 
obedient  footstep  in  that  even  course,  from 
which  the  eye  of  strictest  scrutiny,  has  never 
yet  detected  one  hair-breadth  of  deviation. 
It  is  no  longer  doubted  by  men  of  science, 
that  every  remaining  semblance  of  irregu- 
larity in  the  universe  is  due,  not  to  the 
fickleness  of  Nature,  but  to  the  ignorance 
of  man — that  her  most  hidden  movements 
are  conducted  with  a  uniformity  as  rigorous 
as  fate — that  even  the  fitful  agitations  of  the 
weather  have  their  law  and  their  principle — ■ 
that  the  intensity  of  every  breeze,  and  the 
number  of  drops  in  every  shower,  and  the 
formation  of  every  cloud,  and  all  the  occur- 
ring alternations  of  storm  and  sunshine,  and 
the  endless  shiftings  of  temperature,  and 
those  tremulous  varieties  of  the  air  which 
our  instruments  have  enabled  us  to  discover, 
but  have  not  enabled  us  to  explain — that 
still,  they  follow  each  other  by  a  method  of 
succession,  which,  though  greatly  more  in- 
tricate, is  yet  as  absolute  in  itself  as  the 
order  of  the  season^  or  the  mathematical 
courses  of  astronomy.  This  is  the  impres- 
sion of  every  philosophy  ai  mind  with  re- 
gard to  Nature,  and  it  is  strengthened  by 
each  new  accession  that  is  made  to  science. 
The  more  we  are  acquainted  with  her,  the 
more  are  we  led  to  recognise  her  constancy ; 
and  to  view  her  as  a  mighty  though  com- 
plicated machine,  all  whose  results  are  sure, 
and  all  whose  workings  are  invariable. 

But  there  is  enough  of  patent  and  palpa- 
ble regularity  in  Nature,  to  give  also  to  the 
popular  mind,  the  same  impression  of  her 
constancy.  There  is  a  gross  and  general 
experience  that  teaches  the  same  lesson,  and 
that  has  lodged  in  every  bosom  a  kind  of 
secure  and  steadfast  confidence  in  the  uni- 
formity of  her  processes.  The  very  child 
knows  and  proceeds  upon  it.  He  is  aware 
of  an  abiding  character  and  property  in  the 
elements  around  him — and  has  already 
learned  as  much  of  the  fire,  and  the  water, 
and  the  food  that  he  eats,  and  the  firm 
ground  that  he  treads  upon,  and  even  of  the 
gravitation  by  which  he  must  regulate  his 
postures  and  his  movements,  as  to  prove, 
that  infant  though  he  be,  he  is  fully  initiated 
in  the  doctrine,  that  Nature  has  her  laws 


and  her  ordinances,  and  that  she  continueth 
therein.  And  the  proofs  of  this  are  ever 
multiplying  along  the  journey  of  human 
observation:  insomuch,  that  when  we  come 
to  manhood,  we  read  of  Nature's  constancy 
throughout  every  department  of  the  visible 
world.  It  meets  us  wherever  we  turn  our 
eyes.  Both  the  day  and  the  night  bear  wit- 
ness to  it.  The  silent  revolutions  of  the 
firmament  give  it  their  pure  testimony. 
Even  those  appearances  in  the  heavens,  at 
which  superstition  stood  aghast,  and  ima- 
gined that  Nature  was  on  the  eve  of  giving 
way,  are  the  proudest  trophies  of  that  sta- 
bility which  reigns  throughout  her  pro- 
cesses— of  that  unswerving  consistency 
wherewith  she  prosecutes  all  her  move- 
ments. And  the  lesson  that  is  thus  held 
forth  to  us  from  the  heavens  above,  is  re- 
sponded to  by  the  earth  below;  just  as  the 
tides  of  ocean  wait  the  footsteps  of  the 
moon,  and,  by  an  attendance  kept  up  with- 
out change  or  intermission  for  thousands  of 
years,  would  seem  to  connect  the  regularity 
of  earth  with  the  regularity  of  heaven.  But, 
apart  from  these  greater  and  simpler  ener- 
gies, we  see  a  course  and  a  uniformity  every 
where.  We  recognise  it  in  the  mysteries  of 
vegetation.  We  follow  it  through  the  suc- 
cessive stages  of  growth,  and  maturity,  and 
decay,  both  in  plants  and  animals.  We  dis- 
cern it  still  more  palpably  in  that  beautiful 
circulation  of  the  element  of  water,  as  it 
rolls  its  way  by  many  thousand  channels  to 
the  ocean — and,  from  the  surface  of  this 
expanded  reservoir,  is  again  uplifted  to  the 
higher  regions  of  the  atmosphere — and  is 
there  dispersed  in  light  and  fleecy  maga- 
zines over  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe — 
and  at  length  accomplishes  its  orbit,  by  fall- 
ing in  showers  on  a  world  that  waits  to  be 
refreshed  by  it.  And  all  goes  to  impress  us 
with  the  regularity  of  Nature,  which  in  fact 
teems,  throughout  all  its  varieties,  with 
power,  and  principle,  and  uniform  laws  of 
operation — and  is  viewed  by  us  as  a  vast 
laboratory,  all  the  progressions  of  which 
have  a  rigid  and  unfailing  necessity  stamped 
upon  them. 

Now,  this  contemplation  has  at  times 
served  to  foster  the  atheism  of  philosophers 
It  has  led  them  to  deify  Nature,  and  to  make 
her  immutability  stand  in  the  place  of  God. 
They  seem  impressed  with  the  imagination, 
that  had  the  .Supreme  Cause  been  a  being 
who  thinks,  and  wills,  and  acts  as  man  does, 
on  the  impulse  of  a  felt  and  a  present  mo- 
tive, there  would  be  more  the  appearance 
of  spontaneous  activity,  and  less  of  mute 
and  unconscious  mechanism  in  the  admi- 
nistrations of  the  universe.  It  is  the  very 
unchangeableness  of  Nature  and  the  stead- 
fastness of  those  great  and  mighty  processes 
wherewith  no  living  power  that  is  superior 
to  Nature,  and  is  able  to  shift  or  to  control 
her,  is  seen  to  interfere — it  is  this,  which 


I-] 


AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  HIS  FAITHFULNESS  IN  HIS  WORD. 


263 


seems  to  have  impressed  the  notion  of  some 
blind  and  eternal  fatality  on  certain  men  of 

loftiest  but  deluded  genius.  And,  accord- 
ingly, in  France,  where  the  physical  sciences 
have,  of  late,  been  the  most  cultivated,  have 
there  also  been  the  most  daring  avowals  of 
atheism.  The  universe  has  been  affirmed  to 
be  an  everlasting  and  indestructible  effect; 
and  from  the  abiding  constancy  that  is  seen 
in  Nature,  through  all  her  departments, 
have  they  inferred,  that  thus  it  has  always 
been,  and  that  thus  it  will  ever  be. 

But  this  atheistical  impression  that  is  de- 
rived from  the  constancy  of  Nature,  is  not 
peculiar  to  the  disciples  of  philosophy.  It 
is  the  familiar  and  the  practical  impression 
of  everv-day  life.  The  world  is  apprehended 
to  move  on  steady  and  unvarying  principles 
of  his  own ;  and  these  secondary  causes 
have  usurped,  in  man's  estimation,  the 
throne  of  the  Divinity.  Nature  in  fact  is 
personified  into  God:  and  as  we  look  to  the 
performance  of  a  machine  without  thinking 
of  its  maker, — so  the  very  exactness  and 
certainty,  wherewith  the  machinery  of 
creation  performs  its  evolutions,  has  thrown 
a  disguise  over  the  agency  of  the  Creator. 
Should  God  interpose  by  miracle,  or  inter- 
fere by  some  striking  and  special  manifesta- 
tion of  providence,  then  man  is  awakened 
to  the  recognition  of  him.  But  he  loses 
sight  of  the  Being  who  sits  behind  these 
visible  elements,  while  he  regards  those 
attributes  of  constancy  and  power  which 
appear  in  the  elements  themselves.  They 
see  no  demonstration  of  a  God,  and  they 
feel  no  need  of  him,  while  such  unchanging, 
and  such  unfailing  energy  continues  to  ope- 
rate in  the  visible  world  around  them;  and 
we  need  no1  go  to  the  schools  of  ratiocina- 
tion in  quest  of  this  infidelity,  but  may  de- 
tect it  in  the  bosoms  of  simple  and  unlet- 
tered men,  who,  unknown  to  themselves, 
make  a  god  of  Nature,  and  just  because  of 
Nature's  constancy;  having  no  faith  in  the 
unseen  Spirit  who  originated  all  and  up- 
lolds  all,  and  that,  because  all  things  con- 
tinue as  they  were  from  the  beginning  of 
the  creation. 

Such  let-  been  the  perverse  effect  of  Na- 
ture's  constancy  on  the  alienated  mind  of 
man:  but  lei  us  now  attend  to  the  true  in- 
terpretation of  it.  God  has,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, put  in!''  our  minds  a  disposition  to 
count  on  tie  uniformity  of  Nature,  insomuch 
that  we  universally  look  for  a  recurrence  of 
the  same  event  in  the  same  circumstances. 
This  is  not  merely  the  belief  of  experience, 
out  tin  fof  instinct.     It  is  antecedent 

to  all  the  findings  of  observation, and  may 
be  exemplified  in  the  earliest  stages  of  child- 
hood. The  infant  who  makes  a  noise  on  the 
table  with  his  hand,  for  the  first  time,  anti- 
cipates a  repetition  of  the  noise  from  a  re-  j 
petition  of  the  siroke,  witli  as  much  confi- 
dence as  lie  who  has  witnessed,  for  years! 


together,  the  invar iableness  wherewith  these 
two  terms  of  the  succession  have  followed 
each  other.  Or,  in  other  words,  God,  by 
putting  this  faith  into  every  human  crea- 
ture, and  making  it  a  necessary  part  of  his 
mental  constitution,  has  taught  him  at  all 
times  to  expect  the  like  result  in  the  like 
circumstances.  He  has  thus  virtually  told 
him  what  is  to  happen,  and  what  he  has  to 
look  for  in  every  given  condition — and  by 
its  so  happening  accordingly,  he  just  makes 
good  the  veracity  of  his  own  declaration. 
The  man  who  leads  me  to  expect  that 
which  he  fails  to  accomplish,  I  would  hold 
to  be  a  deceiver.  God  has  so  framed  the 
machinery  of  my  perceptions,  as  that  I  am 
led  irresistibly  to  expect,  that  every  where 
events  will  follow  each  other  in  the  very 
train  in  which  I  have  ever  been  accustomed 
to  observe  them — and  when  God  so  sustains 
the  uniformity  of  Nature,  that  in  every  in- 
stance it  is  rigidly  so,  he  is  just  manifesting 
the  faithfulness  of  his  character.  Were  it 
otherwise,  he  would  be  practising  a  mock- 
ery on  the  expectation  which  he  himself 
had  inspired.  God  may  be  said  to  have  pro- 
mised to  every  human  being,  that  Nature 
will  be  constant— if  not  by  the  whisper  of 
an  inward  voice  to  every  heart,  a!  least  by 
the  force  of  an  uncontrollable  lias  which 
he  has  impressed  on  every  constitution.  So 
that,  when  we  behold  Nature  keeping  by  its 
constancy,  we  behold  the  God  of  Nature 
keeping  by  his  faithfulness — and  the  system 
of  visible  "things,  with  its  general  laws,  and 
its  successions  which  are  invariable,  instead 
of  an  opaque  materialism  to  intercept  from 
the  view  of  mortals  the  face  of  the  Divinity. 
becomes  the  mirror  which  reflects  upon 
them  the  truth  that  is  unchangeable,  the 
ordination  that  never  fails. 

Conceive  that  it  had  been  otherwise — 
first,  that  man  had  no  faith  in  the  constancy 
of  Nature — then  how  could  all  his  experi- 
ence have  profited  him?  How  could  he 
have  applied  the  recollections  of  his  past, 
to  the  guidance  of  his  future  history  ?  And. 
what  would  have  been  left  to  signalize  the 
wisdom  of  mankind  above  thai  of  veriest 
infancy7  Or.  suppose  thai  he  had  the  im- 
plicit faith  in  Nature's  constancy,  but  that 
Nature  was  wanting  in  the  fulfilment  of  it — 
that  at  every  moment  his  intuitive  reliance 
on  this  constancy,  was  mel  by  some  caprice 
or  waywardness  of  Nature,  which  thwarted 
him  in  all  his  undertakings— that,  instead 
of  holding  true  to  hi  r  announcements,  site 
held  the  children  of  men  in  most  distressful 
uncertainty,  by  the  freaks  and  the  falsities 
in  which  she  ever  indulged  herself—  and 
that  every  design  of  human  foresighl  was 
thus  liable  to  tie  broken  up,  by  ever  and 
anon  the  putting  forth  of  some  new  fluctua- 
tion. Tell  me,  in  this  wild  misrule  of  ele- 
ments changing  their  properties,  and  events 
ever  flittinsr  from  one  method  of  succession 


264 


THE  CONSTANCY  OF  GOD  IN  HIS  WORKS 


[SEItM. 


to  another,  if  man  could  subsist  for  a  single 
day,  when  all  the  accomplishments  without, 
were  thus  at  war  with  all  the  hopes  and 
calculations  within.  In  such  a  chaos  and 
conflict  as  this,  would  not  the  foundations 
of  human  wisdom  be  utterly  subverted? 
Would  not  man,  with  his  powerful  and  per- 
petual tendency  to  proceed  nn  the  constancy 
of  Nature,  be  tempted,  at  all  times,  and  by 
the  very  constitution  of  his  being,  to  pro- 
ceed upon  a  falsehood '?  It  were  the  way, 
in  fact,  to  turn  the  administration  of  Nature 
into  a  system  of  deceit.  The  lessons  of  to- 
day, would  be  falsified  by  the  events  of  to- 
morrow. He  were  indeed  the  father  of  lies 
who  could  be  the  author  of  such  a  regimen 
as  this — and  well  may  we  rejoice  in  the 
strict  order  of  the  goodly  universe  which 
we  inhabit,  and  regard  it  as  a  noble  attesta- 
tion to  the  wisdom  and  beneficence  of  its 
great  Architect. 

But  it  is  more  especially  as  an  evidence 
of  his  truth,  that  the  constancy  of  Nature  is 
adverted  to  in  our  text.  It  is  of  his  faithful- 
ness unto  all  generations  that  mention  is 
there  made — and  for  the  growth  and  the 
discipline  of  your  piety,  we  know  not  a  bet- 
ter practical  habit  than  that  of  recognising 
the  unchangeable  truth  of  God,  throughout 
your  daily  and  hourly  experience  of  Na- 
ture's unchangeableness.  Your  faith  in  it 
is  of  his  working — and  what  a  condition 
would  you  have  been  reduced  to,  had  the 
faith  which  is  within,  not  been  met  by  an 
entire  and  unexpected  aceordancy  with  the 
fulfilments  that  are  without !  He  has  not 
told  you  what  to  expect  by  the  utterance  of 
a  voice — but  he  has  taught  you  what  to  ex- 
pect by  the  leadings  and  the  intimations  of 
a  strong  constitutional  tendency — and,  in 
virtue  of  this,  there  is  not  a  human  creature 
who  does  not  believe,  and  almost  as  firmly 
as  in  his  own  existence,  that  fire  will  con- 
tinue to  burn,  and  water  to  cool,  and  matter 
to  resist,  and  unsupported  bodies  to  fall,  and 
ocean  to  bear  the  adventurous  vessel  upon 
its  surface,  and  the  solid  earth  to  uphold 
the  tread  of  his  footsteps;  and  that  spring 
will  appear  again  in  her  wonted  smiles,  and 
summer  will  glow  into  heat  and  brilliancy, 
and  autumn  will  put  on  the  same  luxuri- 
ance as  before,  and  winter,  at  its  stated  pe- 
riods, revisit  the  world  with  her  darkness 
and  her  storms.  We  cannot  sum  up  those 
countless  varieties  of  Nature;  but  the  firm 
expectation  is,  that  throughout  them  all,  as 
she  has  been  established,  so  she  will  abide 
to  the  day  of  her  final  dissolution.  And  I 
call  upon  you  to  recognise  in  Nature's  con- 
stancy, the  answer  of  Nature's  God  to  this 
expectation.  All  these  material  agents  are, 
in  fact,  the  organs  by  which  he  expresses 
his  faithfulness  to  the  world ;  and  that  un- 
veering  generality  which  reigns  and  con- 
tinues every  where,  is  but  the  perpetual 
demonstration  of  a  truth  that  never  varies, 


as  well  as  of  laws  that  never  are  rescinded. 
It  is  for  us  that  he  upholds  the  world  in  all 
its  regularity.  It  is  for  us  that  he  sustains 
so  inviolably  the  march  and  the  movement 
of  those  innumerable  progressions  which 
are  going  on  around  us.  It  is  in  remem- 
brance of  his  promises  to  us,  that  he  meets 
all  our  anticipations  of  Nature's  uniformity, 
with  the  evolutions  of  a  law  that  is  unal- 
terable. It  is  because  he  is  a  God  that  can- 
not lie,  that  he  will  make  no  invasion  on 
that  wondrous  correspondency  which  he 
himself  hath  instituted  between  the  world 
that  is  without,  and  our  little  world  of 
hopes,  and  projects,  and  anticipations  that 
are  within.  By  the  constancy  of  Nature, 
he  hath  imprinted  upon  it  the  lesson  of  his 
own  constancy — and  that  very  character- 
istic wherewith  some  would  fortify  the  un- 
godliness of  their  hearts,  is  the  most  im- 
pressive exhibition  which  can  be  given  of 
God,  as  always  faithful,  and  always  the 
same. 

This,  then,  is  the  real  character  which  the 
constancy  of  Nature  should  lead  us  to  assign 
to  him  who  is  the  Author  of  it.     In  every 
human  understanding,  he  hath  planted  a 
universal  instinct,  by  which  all  are  led  to 
believe  that  Nature  will  persevere  in  her 
wonted  courses,  and  that  each  succession 
of  cause  and  effect  which  has  been  observed 
by  us  in  the  time  that  is  past,  will,  while 
the  world  exists,  be  kept  up  invariably,  and 
recur  in  the  very  same  order  through  the 
time  that  is  to  come.    This  constancy,  then, 
is  as  good  as  a  promise  that  he  has  made 
unto  all  men,  and  all  that  is  around  us  on 
earth  or  in  heaven,  proves  how  inflexibly 
the  promise  is  adhered  to.    The  chemist  in 
his  laboratory,  as.  he  questions  Nature,  may 
be  almost  said  to  put  her  to  the  torture, 
when  tried  in  his  hottest  furnace,  or  probed 
by  his  searching  analysis,  to  her  innermost 
arcana,  she,  by  a  spark,  or  an  explosion,  or 
an  effervescence,  or  an  evolving  substance, 
makes  her  distinct  replies  to  his  investiga 
tions.    And  he  repeats  her  answer  to  all  his 
fellows  in  philosophy,  and  they  meet  in 
academic  state  and  judgment  to  reiterate 
the  question,  and  in  every  quarter  of  the 
globe  her  answer  is  the  same — so  that,  let 
the  experiment,  though  a  thousand  times 
repeated,  only  be  alike  in  all  its  circum- 
stances, the  result  which  cometh  forth  is  as 
rigidly  alike,  without  deficiency,  and  with- 
out deviation.   We  know  how  possible  it  is 
for  these  worshippers  at  the  footstool  of 
science,  to  make  a  divinity  of  matter;  and 
that  every  new  discovery  of  her  secrets 
should  only  rivet  them  more  devotedly  to 
her  throne.    But  there  is  a  God  who  liveth 
and  Sitteth  there,  and  these  unvarying  re- 
sponses of  Nature  are  all  prompted  by  him- 
self, and  are  but  the  utterances  of  his  im- 
mutability.   They  are  the  replies  of  a  God 
who  never  changes,  and  who  hath  adapted 


1.1 


AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  HIS  FAITHFULNESS  IN   HIS  WORD. 


265 


the  whole  materialism  of  creation  to  the 
constitution  of  every  mind  that  he  hath  sent 
forth  upon  it.  And  to  meet  the  expectation 
which  he  himself  hath  given  of  Nature's 
constancy,  is  he  at  each  successive  instant 
of  time,  vigilant  and  ready  in  every  part  of 
his  vast  dominions,  to  hold  out  to  the  eye  of 
all  observers,  the  perpetual  and  unfailing 
demonstration  of  it.  The  certainties  of  Na- 
ture and  of  Science  are,  in  fact,  the  vocables 
by  which  Cod  announces  his  truth  to  the 
world — and  when  told  how  impossible  it  is 
that  Nature  can  fluctuate,  we  are  only  told 
how  impossible  it  is  that  the  God  of  Nature 
can  deceive  us. 

The  doctrine  that  Nature  is  constant, 
when  thus  related,  as  it  ought  to  be,  with 
the  doctrine  that  God  is  true,  might  well 
strengthen  our  confidence  in  him  anew  with 
every  new  experience  of  our  history.  There 
is  not  an  hour  or  a  moment,  in  which  we 
may  not  verify  the  one — and,  therefore,  not 
an  hour  or  a  moment  in  which  we  may  not 
invigorate  the  other.  Every  touch,  and 
every  look,  and  every  taste,  and  every  act 
of  converse  between  our  senses  and  the 
things  that  are  without,  brings  home  a  new 
demonstration  of  the  steadfastness  of  Na- 
ture, and  along  with  it  a  new  demonstration 
both  of  his  steadfastness  and  of  his  faithful- 
ness, who  is  the  Governor  of  Nature.  And 
the  same  lesson  may  be  fetched  from  times 
and  from  places,  that  are  far  beyond  the 
limits  of  our  own  personal  history.  It  can 
be  drawn  fom  the  retrospect  of  past  ages, 
where,  from  the  unvaried  currency  of  those 
very  processes  which  we  now  behold,  we 
may  learn  the  stability  of  all  his  ways, 
whose  goings  forth  are  of  old,  and  from 
everlasting.  It  can  be  gathered  from  the 
most  distant  extremities  of  the  earth,  where 
Nature  reigns  with  the  same  unwearied 
constancy,  as  it  does  around  us — and  where 
savages  count  as  we  do  on  a  uniformity, 
lrom  which  she  never  falters.  The  lesson 
is  commensurate  with  the  whole  system  of 
things — and  with  an  effulgence  as  broad  as 
the  face  of  creation,  and  as  clear  as  the  light 
which  is  poured  over  it,  does  it  at  once  tell 
that  Nature  is  unchangeably  constant,  and 
that  God  is  unchangeably  true. 

And  so  it  is,  that  in  our  text  there  are 
presented  together,  as  if  there  was  a  tie  of 
likeness  between  them — that  the  same  God 
who  is  fixed  as  to  the  ordinances  of  Nature, 
is  faithful  as  to  the  declaration  of  his  word; 
and  as  all  experience  proves  how  firmly  he 
may  be  trusted  lor  the  one,  so  is  there  an 
argument  as  strong  as  experience,  to  prove 
how  firmly  he  may  be  trusted  for  the  other. 
I  By  his  work  in  us,  he  hath  awakened 
the  expectation  of  a  constancy  in  Nature, 
which  he  never  disappoints.  By  his  word 
to  us,  should  he  awaken  the  expectation  of 
a  certainty  in  his  declarations,  this  he  will 
never  disappoint.  It  is  because  Nature  is 
34 


so  fixed,  that  we  apprehend  the  God  of  Na- 
ture to  be  so  faithful.  He  who  never  falsifies 
the  hope  that  hath  arisen  in  every  bosom, 
from  the  instinct  which  he  himself  hath 
communicated,  will  never  falsify  the  hope 
that  shall  arise  in  any  bosom  from  the  ex- 
press utterance  of  his  voice.  Were  he  a  God 
in  whose  hand  the  processes  of  Nature  were 
ever  shifting,  then  might  we  conceive  him 
a  God  from  whose  mouth  the  proclamations 
of  grace  had  the  like  characters  of  variance 
and  vacillation.  But  it  is  just  because  of 
our  reliance  on  the  one,  that  we  feel  so 
much  of  repose  in  our  dependence  upon  the 
other — and  the  same  God  who  is  so  unfail- 
ing in  the  ordinances  of  his  creation,  do  we 
hold  to  be  equally  unfailing  in  the  ordi- 
nances of  his  word. 

And  it  is  strikingly  accordant  with  these 
views,  that  Nature  never  has  been  known 
to  recede  from  her  constancy,  but  for  the 
purpose  of  giving  place  and  demonstration 
to  the  authority  of  the  word.  Once,  in  a 
season  of  miracle,  did  the  word  take  the 
precedency  of  Nature,  but  ever  since  hath 
Nature  resumed  her  course.-,  and  is  now 
proving  by  her  steadfastness,  the  authority 
of  that,  which  she  then  proved  to  be  au- 
thentic by  her  deviations.  When  the  word 
was  first  ushered  in,  Nature  gave  way  for 
a  period,  after  which  she  moves  in  her 
wonted  order,  till  the  present  system  of 
things  shall  pass  away,  and  that  faith  which 
is  now  upholden  by  Nature's  constancy, 
shall  then  receive  its  accomplishment  at 
Nature's  dissolution.  And  O,  how  Cod  mag- 
nifieth  his  word  above  all  his  name,  when 
he  tells  that  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass 
away,  but  that  his  word  shall  not  pass 
away — and  that  while  his  creation  shall 
become  a  wreck,  not  one  jot  or  one  tittle  of 
his  testimony  shall  fail.  The  world  passeth 
away — but  the  word  endureth  for  ever — 
and  if  the  faithfulness  of  God  stand  forth  so 
legibly  on  the  face  of  the  temporary  world, 
how  surely  may  we  reckon  on  the  faithful- 
ness of  that  word,  which  has  a  vastly  higher 
place  in  the  counsels  and  fulfilments  of 
eternity. 

The  argument  may  not  be  comprehended 
by  all,  but  it  will  not  be  lost,  should  it  lead 
any  to  feel  a  more  emphatic  certainty  and 
meaning  than  before,  in  the  declarations  of 
the  Bible — and  to  conclude,  that  he  who  for 
ages  hath  stood  so  fixed  to  all  his  plans  and 
purposes  in  Nature,  will  stand  equally  fixed 
to  all  that  he  proclaims,  and  to  all  that  he 
promises  in  Revelation.  To  lie  in  the  hands 
of  such  a  God,  might  well  strike  a  terror 
into  the  hearts  of  the  guilty — and  that  un- 
relenting death,  which,  with  all  the  surcness 
of  an  immutable  law,  is  seen,  before  our 
eyes,  to  seize  upon  every  individual  of  every 
species  of  our  world,  full  well  evinces  how 
he,  the  uncompromising  Lawgiver,  will  ex- 
ecute every  utterance  that  he  has   made 


266 


THE  CONSTANCY  OF  GOD  IN  HIS  WORKS 


[SERM. 


against  the  children  of  iniquity.  And,  on 
the  other  hand,  how  this  very  contempla- 
tion ought  to  encourage  all  who  are  looking 
to  the  announcements  of  the  same  God  in 
the  Gospel,  and  who  perceive  that  there  he 
has  embarked  the  same  truth,  and  the  same 
unchangeableness  on  the  offers  of  mercy. 
All  Nature  gives  testimony  to  this,  that  he 
cannot  lie — and  seeing  that  he  has  stamped 
such  enduring  properties  on  the  elements 
even  of  our  perishable  world,  never  should 
I  falter  from  that  confidence  which  he  hath 
taught  me  to  feel,  when  I  think  of  that  pro- 
perty wherewith  the  blood  which  was  shed 
for  me,  cleanseth  from  all  sin ;  and  of  that 
property  wherewith  the  body  which  was 
broken,  beareth  the  burden  of  all  its  penal- 
ties. He  who  hath  so  nobly  met  the  faith 
that  he  has  given  unto  all  in  the  constancy 
of  Nature,  by  a  uniformity  which  knows 
no  abatement,  will  meet  the  faith  that  he 
has  given  unto  any  in  the  certainty  of  grace, 
by  a  fulfilment  unto  every  believer,  which 
knows  no  exception. 

And  it  is  well  to  remark  the  difference 
that  there  is  between  the  explanation  given 
in  the  text,  of  Nature's  constancy,  and  the 
impression  which  the  mere  students  or 
disciples  of  Nature  have  of  it.  It  is  because 
of  her  constancy  that  they  have  been  led 
to  invest  her,  as  it  were,  in  properties  of 
her  own  ;  tiiat  they  have  given  a  kind  of  in- 
dependent power  and  stability  to  matter; 
that  in  the  various  energies  which  lie  scat- 
tered over  the  field  of  visible  contemplation, 
they  see  a  native  inherent  virtue,  which 
never  for  a  single  moment  is  slackened 
or  suspended — and  therefore  imagine,  that 
as  no  force  from  without  seems  necessary 
to  sustain,  so  as  little,  perhaps,  is  there  need 
for  any  such  force  from  without  to  originate. 
The  mechanical  certainty  of  all  Nature's 
processes,  as  it  appears  in  their  eyes  to 
supersede  the  demand  for  any  upholding 
agency,  so  does  it  also  supersede,  in  the 
silent  imaginations  of  many,  and  according 
to  the  express  and  bold  avowals  of  some, 
the  demand  for  any  creative  agency.  It  is 
thus,  that  Nature  is  raised  into  a  divinity, 
and  has  been  made  to  reign  over  all,  in  the 
state  and  jurisdiction  of  an  eternal  fatalism; 
and  proud  Science,  which  by  wisdom 
knoweth  not  God,  hath  in  her  march  of 
discovery,  seized  upon  the  invariable  cer- 
tainties of  Nature,  those  highest  character- 
istics of  his  authority  and  wisdom  and 
truth,  as  the  instruments  by  which  to  dis- 
prove and  to  dethrone  him. 

Now  compare  this  interpretation  of  mon- 
strous and  melancholy  atheism,  with  that 
which  the  Bible  gives,  why  all  things  move 
so  invariably.  It  is  because  that  all  are  thy 
servants.  It  is  because  they  are  all  under 
the  bidding  of  a  God  who  has  purposes 
from  which  lie  never  falters,  and  hath  is- 
sued promises  from  which  he  never  fails. 


It  is  because  the  arrangements  of  his  vast 
and  capacious  household  are  already  order- 
ed for  the  best,  and  all  the  elements  of  Na- 
ture are  the  ministers  by  which  he  fulfils 
them.     That  is  the  master  who  has  most 
honour  and  obedience  from  his  domestics 
throughout  all  whose  ordinations  there  runs 
a  consistency  from  which  he  never  devi- 
ates; and  he  best  sustains  his  dignity  in 
the  midst  of  them,  who,  by  mild  but  resist- 
less sway,  can  regulate  the  successions  of 
every  hour,  and  affix  his  sure  and  appropri- 
ate service  to  every  member  of  the  family. 
It  is  when  we  see  all,  in  any  given  time, 
at   their  respective  places,  and  each   dis- 
tinct   period   of  the   day   having  its  own 
distinct  evolution  of  business  or  recreation, 
that  we  infer  the  wisdom  of  the  instituted 
government,  and  how  irrevocable  the  sanc- 
tions are  by  which  it  is  upholden.     The 
vexatious  alternations  of  command  and  of 
countermand;  the   endless  fancies  of  hu- 
mour, and  caprice,  and  waywardness,  which 
ever  and    anon   break  forth,  to  the  total 
overthrow   of  system ;    the   perpetual  in- 
novations which  none  do  foresee,  and  foi 
which  none,  therefore,  can  possibly  be  pre- 
pared— these  are  not   more  harassing  to 
the  subject,  than  they  are  disparaging  to 
the  truth   and  authority  of  the   superior. 
It  is  in  the  bosom  of  a  well-conducted  fa- 
mily, where  you  witness  the  sure  dispensa- 
tion of  all  the  reward  and  encouragement 
which  have  been  promised,  and  the  unfail- 
ing execution  of  the  disgrace  and  the  dis- 
missal that  are  held  forth  to  obstinate  dis- 
obedience.    Now  those  very   qualities  of 
which  this  uniformity  is  the  test  and  the 
characteristic  in   the  government  of  any 
human  society,  of  these  also  is  it  the  test 
and  the  characteristic  in  the  government 
of  Nature.  It  bespeaks  the  wisdom,  and  the 
authority,  and  the  truth  of  him  who  framed 
and  who  administers.     Let  there  be  a  King 
eternal,  immortal,  and  invisible,  and  let  this 
universe   be   his   empire — and    in   all   the 
rounds  of  its  complex  but  unerring  mtchan- 
ism,  do  I  recognise  him  as  the  only  wise  God. 
In  the  constancy  of  Nature,  do  I  read  the 
constancy  and  truth  of  that  great  master 
Spirit,  who  hath  imprinted  his  own  charac- 
ter on  all  that  hath    emanated   from  his 
power;  and  when  told  that  throughout  the 
mighty  lapse  of  centuries,  all  the  courses 
both  of  earth  and  of  heaven,    lure   beci 
upholden  as  before,  I  only  recognise  the 
footsteps  of  him  who  is  ever  the  same,  and 
whose  faithfulness  is  unto  all  generations. 
That  perpetuity,  and    order,   and    ancient 
law  of  succession,  which  have  subsisted  so 
long,  throughout  the   wide    diversity   of 
things,  bear  witness  to  the  Lord  of  hosts, 
as  still  at  the  head  of  his  well-marshalled 
family.     The  present  age  is  only  re-echo- 
ing the  lesson  of  all  past  ages — and  that 
spectacle,  which  has  misled  those  who  by 


1-1 


AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  HIS  FAITHFULNESS  IN  HIS  WORD. 


267 


wisdom  know  not  God,  into  dreary  atheism, 
has  enhanced  every  demonstration  both  of 
his  veracity  and  power,  to  all  intelligent 
worshippers.  We  know  that  all  things 
continue  as  they  were  from  the  beginning 
of  creation.  We  know  that  the  whole  of 
.surrounding  materialism  stands  forth,  to 
this  very  hour,  in  all  the  inflexibility  of  her 
wonted  characters.  We  know  that  heaven, 
nnd  earth,  and  sea,  still  discharge  the  same 
functions,  and  subserve  the  very  same  be- 
neficent processes.  We  know  that  astrono- 
my plies  the  same  rounds  as  before,  that 
thecyclesof  the  firmament  move  in  their 
old  and  appointed  order,  and  that  the  year 
circulates  as  it  has  ever  done,  in  grateful 
variety,  over  the  face  of  an  expectant  world 
— but  only  because  all  are  of  God,  and  they 
continue  this  day  according  to  his  ordi- 
nances— for  all  are  his  servants. 

Now,  it  is  just  because  the  successions 
which  take  place  in  the  economy  of  Nature, 
are  so  invariable,  that  we  should  expect  the 
successions  which  take  place  in  the  econo- 
my of  God's  moral  government  to  be  equal- 
ly invariable.  That  expectation  which  he 
never  disappoints  when  it  is  the  fruit  of  a 
universal  instinct,  he  surely  will  never  dis- 
appoint when  it  is  the  fruit  of  his  own  ex- 
press and  immediate  revelation.  If  because 
God  hath  so  established  it,  it  cometh  to 
pass,  then  of  whatsoever  it  may  be  affirmed 
that  God  hath  so  said  it,  it  will  come  equally 
to  pass.  I  should  certainly  look  for  the 
same  character  in  the  administrations  of 
his  special  grace,  that  I,  at  all  times,  wit- 
ness in  the  administrations  of  his  ordinary 
providence.  If  I  see  in  the  system  of  his 
world,  that  the  law  by  which  two  events 
follow  each  other,  gives  rise  to  a  connexion 
between  them  that  never  is  dissolved,  then 
should  he  say  in  his  word,  that  there  are 
certain  invariable  methods  of  succession, 
in  virtue  of  which  when  the  first  term  of  it 
occurs,  the  second  is  sure  at  all  times  to 
follow,  I  should  be  very  sure  in  my  antici- 
pations, that  it  will  indeed  be  most  punc- 
tually and  most  rigidly  so.  It  is  thus,  that 
the  constancy  of  Nature  is  in  fullest  har- 
mony with  the  authority  of  Revelation — 
and  that,  when  fresh  from  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  one,  I  would  listen  with  most 
implicit  faith  to  all  the  announcements  of 
the  otlii  r. 

When  we  behold  all  to  be  so  sure  and 
settled  in  the  works  of  God,  then  may  we 
look  for  all  being  equally  sure  and  settled 
in  the  word  of  God.  Philosophy  hath 
never  yet  detected  one  iota  of  deviation 
from  the  ordinances  of  Nature — and  never, 
therefore,  may  we  conclude,  shall  the  ex- 
perience either  of  past  or  future  ages,  de- 
tect one  iota  of  deviation  from  the  ordi- 
nances of  Revelation.  He  who  so  pointedly 
adheres  to  every  plan  that  he  hath  establish- 
ed in  creation,  will  as  pointedly  adhere  to 


every  proclamation  that  he  hath  uttered  in 
Scripture.  There  is  nought  of  the  fast  and 
loose  in  any  of  his  processes — and  whether 
in  the  terrible  denunciations  of  Sinai,  or  those 
mild  proffers  of  mercy  that  were  sounded 
forth  upon  the  world  through  Messiah,  who 
upholdeth  all  things  by  the  word  of  his  pow- 
er, shall  we  alike  experience  that  God  is  not 
to  be  mocked,  and  that  with  him  there  is  no 
variableness,  neither  shadow  of  turning. 

With  this  certainty  then  upon  our  spirits, 
let  us  now  look,  not  to  the  successions 
which  he  hath  instituted  in  nature,  but  to 
the  successions  which  he  hath  announced  to 
us,  in  the  word  of  his  testimony — and  let 
us,  while  so  doing,  fix  and  solemnize  our 
thoughts  by  the  consideration,  that  as  God 
hath  said  it,  so  will  he  do  it. 

The  first  of  these  successions,  then,  on 
which  we  may  count  infallibly,  is  that 
which  he  hath  proclaimed  between  sin  and 
punishment.  The  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall 
die.  And  here  there  is  a  common  ground 
on  which  the  certainties  of  divine  revela- 
tion meet  and  are  at  one  with  the  certain- 
ties of  human  experience.  We  are  told  in 
the  Bible,  that  all  have  sinned,  and  that, 
therefore,  death  hath  passed  upon  all  men. 
The  connexion  between  these  two  terms  is 
announced  in  Scripture  to  be  invariable — 
and  all  observation  tells  us,  that  it  is  even 
so.  Such  was  the  sentence  uttered  in  the 
hearing  of  our  first  parents;  and  all  history 
can  attest  how  God  hath  kept  by  the  word 
of  his  threatening — and  how  this  law  of 
jurisprudence  from  heaven  is  realized  be- 
fore us  upon  earth,  with  all  the  certainty 
of  a  law  of  Nature.  The  death  of  man  is 
just  as  stable  and  as  essential  a  part  of  his 
physiology,  as  are  his  birth,  or  his  expan- 
sion, or  his  maturity,  or  his  decay.  It  looks 
as  much  a  thing  of  organic  necessity,  as  a 
thing  of  arbitrary  institution — and  here  do 
we  see  blended  into  one  exhibition,  a  cer- 
tainty of  the  divine  word  that  never  fails, 
and  a  constancy  in  Nature  that  never  is  de- 
parted from.  It  is  indeed  a  striking  accord- 
ancy,  that  what  in  one  view  of  it  appears 
to  be  a  uniform  process  of  Nature,  in  an- 
other view  of  it,  is  but  the  unrelenting  exe- 
cution of  a  dread  utterance  from  the  God 
of  Nature.  From  this  contemplation  may 
we  gather,  that  God  is  as  certain  in  all  his 
words,  as  he  is  constant  in  all  his  ways. 
Men  can  philosophize  on  the  diseases  of  the 
human  system — and  the  laborious  treatise 
can  be  written  on  the  class,  and  the  charac- 
ter, and  the  symptoms,  of  each  of  them — 
and  in  our  halls  of  learning,  the  ample  de- 
monstration can  be  given,  and  disciples  may 
be  taught  how  to  judge  and  to  prognosticate, 
and  in  what  appearances  to  read  the  fell 
precursors  of  mortality — and  death  has  so 
taken  up  its  settled  place  among  the  immu- 
tabilities of  Nature,  that  it  is  as  familiarly 
treated  in  the  lecture-rooms  of  science,  as 


268 


THE  CONSTANCY  OF  GOD  IN  HIS  WORKS 


[SERM. 


any  other  phenomena  which  Nature  has  to 
offer  for  the  exercise  of  the  human  under- 
standing. And,  O,  how  often  are  the  smile 
and  the  stoutness  of  infidelity  seen  to  min- 
gle with  this  appalling  contemplation — and 
how  little  will  its  hardy  professors  bear  to  be 
told,  that  what  gives  so  dread  a  certainty  to 
their  speculation  is,  that  the  God  of  Nature 
and  the  God  of  the  Bible,  are  one — that  when 
they  describe,  in  lofty  nomenclature,  the 
path  of  dying  humanity,  they  only  describe 
the  way  in  which  he  fulfils  upon  it  his  ir- 
revocable denunciation— tha  the  is  but  doing 
now  to  the  posterity  of  Adam  what  he 
told  to  Adam  himself  on  his  expulsion  from 
Paradise — and  that,  if  the  universality  of 
death  prove  how  every  law  in  the  physics 
of  creation  is  sure,  it  just  as  impressively 
proves,  how  every  word  of  God's  immedi- 
ate utterance  to  man,  or  how  every  word  of 
prophecy,  is  equally  sure. 

And  in  every  instance  of  mortality  which 
you  are  called  to  witness,  do  we  call  upon 
you  to  read  in  it  the  intolerance  of  God 
for  sin,  and  how  unsparingly  and  unrelent- 
ingly it  is,  that  God  carries  into  effect  his 
every  utterance  against  it.  The  connection 
which  he  hath  instituted  between  the  two 
terms  of  sin  and  of  death  should  lead  you 
from  every  appeal  that  is  made  to  your 
senses  by  the  one,  to  feel  the  force  of  an 
appeal  to  your  conscience  by  the  other. 
It  proves  the  hatefulness  of  sin  to  God,  and 
it  also  proves  with  what  unfaltering  con- 
stancy God  will  prosecute  every  threat  un- 
til he  hath  made  an  utter  extirpation  of  sin 
from  his  presence.  There  is  nought  which 
can  make  more  palpable  the  way  in  which 
God  keeps  every  saying  in  his  perpetual 
remembrance,  and  as  surely  proceeds  upon 
it,  than  doth  this  universal  plague  where- 
with he  hath  smitten  every  individual  of 
our  species,  and  carries  off  its  successive 
generations  from  a  world  that  sprung  from 
his  hand  in  all  the  bloom  and  vigour  of 
immortality.  When  death  makes  entrance 
upon  a  family,  and  perhaps,  seizes  on  that 
one  member  of  it,  all  whose  actual  trans- 
gressions might  be  summed  up  in  the  out- 
breakings  of  an  occasional  waywardness, 
wherewith  the  smiles  of  infant  gaiety  were 
chequered — still  how  it  demonstrates  the 
unbending  purposes  of  God  against  our 
present  accursed  nature,  that  in  some  one 
or  other  of  its  varieties,  every  specimen 
must  die.  And  so  it  is,  that  from  one  age 
o  another,  he  makes  open  manifestation  to 
the  world,  that  every  utterance  which  hath 
fallen  from  him  is  sure ;  and  that  ocular 
proof  is  given  to  the  character  of  him  who 
is  a  Spirit,  and  is  invisible  ;  and  that  sense 
lends  its  testimony  to  the  truth  of  God,  and 
the  truth  of  his  Scripture  ;  and  that  Nature, 
when  rightly  viewed,  instead  of  placing 
its  inquirers  at  atheistical  variance  with 
the  being  who  upholds  it,  holds  out  to  us 


the  most  impressive  commentary  that  can 
be  given  on  the  reverence  which  is  due 
to  all  his  communications,  even  by  de- 
monstrating, that  faith  in  his  word  is  at 
unison  with  the  findings  of  our  daily  ob- 
servation. 

But  God  hath  further  said  of  sin  and  of 
its  consequences,  what  no  observation  of 
ours  has  yet  realized.  He  hath  told  us  of 
the  judgment  that  cometh  after  death,  and 
he  hath  told  us  of  the  two  diverse  paths 
which  lead  from  the  judgment-seat  unto 
eternity.  Of  these  we  have  not  yet  seen 
the  verification,  yet  surely  we  have  seen 
enough  to  prepare  us  for  the  unfailing  accom- 
plishment of  every  utterance  that  cometh 
from  the  lips  of  God.  The  unexcepted 
death  which  we  know  cometh  upon  all 
men,  for  that  all  have  sinned,  might  well 
convince  us  of  the  certainty  of  that  second 
death  which  is  threatened  upon  all  who 
turn  not  from  sin  unto  the  Saviour.  There 
is  an  indissoluble  succession  here  between 
our  sinning  and  our  dying — and  we  ought 
now  to  be  so  aware  of  God  as  a  God  of 
precise  and  peremptory  execution,  as  to 
look  upon  the  succession  being  equally  in- 
dissoluble, between  our  dying  in  sin  now, 
and  rising  to  everlasting  condemnation  here- 
after. The  sinner  who  wraps  himself  in  de- 
lusive security — and  that,  because  all  things 
continue  as  they  have  done,  does  not  reflect 
of  this  very  characteristic,  that  it  is  indeed 
the  most  awful  proof  of  God's  immutable 
counsels,  and  to  himself  the  most  tremen- 
dous presage  of  all  the  ruin  and  wretched- 
ness which  have  been  denounced  upon  him. 
The  spectacle  of  uniformity  that  is  before 
his  eyes,  only  goes  to  ascertain  that  as  God 
hath  purposed,  so,  without  vacillation  or 
inconstancy,  will  he  ever  perform.  He  hath 
already  given  a  sample,  or  an  earnest  of  this, 
in  the  awful  ravages  of  death ;  and  we  ask 
the  sinner  to  behold,  in  the  ever-recurring 
spectacle  of  moving  funerals,  and  desolated 
families,  the  token  of  that  still  deeper  per- 
dition which  awaits  him.  Let  him  not  think 
that  the  God  who  deals  his  relentless  inflic- 
tions here  on  every  son  and  daughter  of  the 
species,  will  falter  there  from  the  work  of 
vengeance  that  shall  then  descend  on  the 
heads  of  the  impenitent.  O,  how  deceived 
then  are  all  those  ungodly,  who  have  been 
building  to  themselves  a  safety  and  an  ex- 
emption on  the  perpetuity  of  Nature  !  All 
the  perpetuity  which  they  have  witnessed, 
is  the  pledge  of  a  God  who  is  unchange- 
able— and  who,  true  to  his  threatening  as  to 
every  other  utterance  which  passes  his  lips, 
hath  said,  in  flie  hearing  of  men  and  of 
angels,  that  the  soul  which  is  in  sin  shall 
perish. 

But,  secondly,  there  is  another  succession 
announced  to  us  in  Scripture,  and  on  the 
certainty  of  which  we  may  place  as  firm  a 
reliance  as  on  any  of  the  observed  succes- 


I.J 


AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  HIS  FAITHFULNESS  IN  HIS   WORD. 


269 


sions  of  Nature — even  that  which  obtains 
between  faith  and  salvation.  He  who  be- 
Iieveth  in  Christ,  shall  not  perish,  but  shall 
have  life  everlasting.  The  same  truth 
which  God  hath  embarked  on  the  declara- 
tions of  his  wrath  against  the  impenitent,  he 
hath  also  embarked  on  the  declarations  of 
his  mercy  to  the  believer.  There  is  a  law 
of  continuity,  as  unfailing  as  any  series  of 
events  in  Nature,  that  binds  with  the  present 
state  of  an  obstinate  sinner  upon  earth,  all 
the  horrors  of  his  future  wretchedness  in 
hell — but  there  is  also  another  law  of  con- 
tinuity j'ist  as  unfailing,  that  binds  the  pre- 
sent state  of  him  who  putteth  faith  in  Christ 
here,  with  the  triumphs  and  the  transports 
of  his  coming  glory  hereafter.  And  thus  it 
js,  that  what  we  read  of  God's  constancy  in 
chc  book  of  Nature,  may  well  strengthen  our 
every  assurance  in  the  promises  of  the  gos- 
pel. It  is  not  in  the  recurrence  of  winter 
alone,  and  its  desolations,  that  God  mani- 
fests his  adherence  to  established  processes. 
There  are  many  periodic  evolutions  of  the 
bright  and  the  beautiful  along  the  march 
of  his  ad  ministrations — as  the  dawn  of  morn; 
and  the  grateful  access  of  spring,  with  its 
many  hues,  and  odours,  and  melodies ;  and 
the  ripened  abundance  of  harvest ;  and  that 
glorious  arch  of  heaven,  which  science  hath 
now  appropriated  as  her  own,  but  which 
nevertheless  is  placed  there  by  God  as  the 
unfailing  token  of  a  sunshine  already  begun, 
and  a  storm  now  ended — all  these  come  forth 
at  appointed  seasons,  in  a  consecutive  or- 
der, yet  mark  the  footsteps  of  a  beneficent 
Deity.  And  so  the  economy  of  grace  has 
its  regular  successions,  which  carry,  how- 
ever, a  blessing  in  their  train.  The  faith  in 
Christ,  to  which  we  are  invited  upon  earth, 
lias  its  sure  result  and  its  landing-place  in 
heaven — and  just  with  as  unerring  certainty 
as  we  behold  in  the  courses  of  the  firma- 
ment, will  it  be  followed  up  by  a  life  of  vir- 
tue, and  a  death  of  hope,  and  a  resurrection 
of  joy  fulness,  and  a  voice  of  welcome  at  the 
judgment-seat,  and  a  bright  ascent  into  fields 
of  ethereal  blessedness,  and  an  entrance  upon 
glory,  and  a  perpetual  occupation  in  the  city 
of  the  living  God. 

To  all  men  hath  he  given  a  faith  in  the 
constancy  of  Nature,  and  he  never  disap- 
points it.  To  some  men  hath  he  given  a 
faith  in  the  promises  of  the  gospel,  and  he 
is  ready  to  bestow  it  upon  all  who  ask,  or 
to  perfect  that  which  is  lacking  in  it — and 
the  one  faith  will  as  surely  meet  with  its 
corresponding  fulfilment  as  the  other.  The 
invariableness  that  reigns  throughout  the 
kingdom  of  Nature,  guarantees  the  like  in- 
variableness in  the  kingdom  of  grace.  He 
who  is  steadfast  to  all  his  appointments,  will 
oe  true  to  all  his  declarations — and  those 
very  exhibitions  of  a  strict  and  undeviating 
order  in  our  universe,  which  have  minis- 
I'H  tn   he  irreligion  of  a  spurious  philoso- 


phy, form  a  basis  on  which  the  believercan 
prop  a  firmer  confidence  than  before,  in  all 
the  spoken  and  all  the  written  testimonies 
of  God. 

With  a  man  of  taste,  and  imagination,  and 
science,  and  who  is  withal  a  disciple  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,  such  an  argument  as  this  must 
shed  a  new  interest  and  glory  over  his  whole 
contemplation  of  visible  things.  He  knows 
of  his  Saviour,  that  by  him  all  things  were 
made,  and  that  by  him  too  all  things  are  up- 
holden.  The  world,  in  fact,  was  created  by 
that  Being  whose  name  is  the  Word,  and 
from  the  features  that  are  imprinted  on  the 
one,  may  he  gather  some  of  lh:j  hading  cha- 
racteristics of  the  other.  Wore  expressly 
will  he  infer  from  that  sure  and  established 
order  of  Nature,  in  which  the  whole  family 
of  mankind  are  comprehended,  that  the 
more  special  family  of  believers  are  indeed 
encircled  within  the  bond  of  a  sure  and  a 
well-ordered  covenant.  In  those  beauteous 
regularities  by  which  the  one  economy  is 
marked,  will  he  be  led  to  recognise  the 
"yea"  and  the  "amen"  which  are  stamped 
on  the  other  economy — and  when  he  learns 
that  the  certainties  of  science  are  unfailing, 
does  he  also  learn  that  the  sayings  of  Scrip- 
ture are  unalterable.  Both  he  knows  to 
emanate  from  the  same  source ;  and  every 
new  experience  of  Nature's  constancy,  will 
just  rivet  him  more  tenaciously  than  before 
to  the  doctrine  and  the  declarations  of  his 
Bible.  Furnished  with  such  a  method  of 
interpretation  as  this,  let  him  go  abroad  upon 
Nature,  and  all  that  he  sees  will  heighten 
and  establish  the  hopes  which  Revelation 
hath  awakened.  Every  recurrence  of  the 
same  phenomena  as  before,  will  be  to  him 
a  distinct  testimony  to  the  faithfulness  of 
God.  The  very  hours  will  bear  witness  to 
it.  The  lengthening  shades  of  even  will 
repeat  the  lesson  held  out  to  him  by  the  light 
of  early  day — and  when  night  unveils  to  his 
eye  the  many  splendours  of  the  firmament, 
will  every  traveller  on  his  circuit  there, 
speak  to  him  of  that  mighty  and  invisible 
King,  all  whose  ordinations  are  sure.  And 
this  manifestation  from  the  face  of  heaven, 
will  be  reflected  to  him  by  the  panorama 
upon  earth.  Even  the  buds  which  come 
forth  at  their  appointed  season  on  the  leaf- 
less branches;  and  the  springing  up  of  the 
flowers  and  the  herbage,  on  the  spots  of 
ground  from  which  they  had  disappeared  ; 
and  that  month  of  vocal  harmony  where- 
with the  mute  atmosphere  is  gladdened  as 
before,  with  the  notes  of  joyous  festival ;  and 
so,  the  regular  march  of  the  advancing  year 
through  all  its  footsteps  of  revival,  and  pro- 
gress, and  maturity,  and  decay — these  are 
to  him  but  the  diversified  tokens  of  a  God 
whom  he  can  trust,  because  of  a  God  who 
changeth  not.  To  his  eyes,  the  world  re- 
flects upon  the  word  the  lesson  of  its  own 
wondrous  harmony;  and  his  science,  in- 


270 


THE  CONSTANCY  OF  GOI>  IN  HIS  WORKS,  &C. 


[SERM. 


stead  of  a  meteor  that  lures  him  from  the 
greater  light  of  revelation,  serves  him  as  a 
pedestal  on  which  the  stability  of  Scripture 
is  more  firmly  upholden. 

The  man  who  is  accustomed  to  view  aright 
the  uniformity  of  Nature's  sequences,  will 
be  more  impressed  with  the  certainty  of  that 
sequence  which  is  announced  in  the  Bible 
between  faith  and  salvation — and  he,  of  all 
others,  should  re-assure  his  hopes  of  immor- 
tality, when  he  reads,  that  the  end  of  our 
faith  is  the  salvation  of  our  souls.  In  this 
secure  and  wealthy  place,  let  him  take  up 
his  rest,  and  rejoice  himself  greatly  with 
that  God  who  has  so  multiplied  upon  him 
the  evidences  of  his  faithfulness.  Let  him 
henceforth  feel  that  he  is  in  the  hands  of 
one  who  never  deviates,  and  who  cannot 
lie — and  who,  as  he  never  by  one  act  of  ca- 
price, hath  mocked  the  dependence  that  is 
built  on  the  foundation  of  human  experience, 
so,  never  by  one  act  of  treachery,  will  he 
mock  the  dependence  that  is  built  on  the 
foundation  of  the  divine  testimony.  And 
more  particularly,  let  him  think  of  Christ, 
who  hath  all  the  promises  in  his  hand,  that 
to  him  also  all  power  has  been  committed 
in  heaven  and  in  earth — and  that  presiding 
therefore,  as  he  does,  over  that  visible  ad- 
ministration, of  which  constancy  is  the  un- 
failing attribute,  he  by  this  hath  given  us 
the  best  pledge  of  a  truth  that  abideth  the 
same,  to-day,  and  yesterday,  and  for  ever. 

We  are  aware,  that  no  argument  can  of 
itself  work  in  you  the  faith  of  the  Gospel — 
that  words  and  reasons,  and  illustrations, 
may  be  multiplied  without  end,  and  yet  be 
of  no  efficacy — that  if  the  simple  manifesta- 
tion of  the  Spirit  be  withheld,  the  expounder 
of  Scripture,  and  of  all  its  analogies  with 
creation  or  Providence,  will  lose  his  labour 
— and  while  it  is  his  part  to  prosecute  these 
to  the  uttermost,  yet  nought  will  he  find 
more  surely  and  experimentally  true,  than 
that  without  a  special  interposition  of  light 
from  on  high,  he  runneth  in  vain,  and 
wearieth  himself  in  vain.  It  is  for  him  to 
ply  the  instrument,  it  is  for  God  to  give 
unto  it  the  power  which  availeth.  We  are 
told  of  Christ,  on  his  throne  of  mediator- 
ship,  that  he  hath  all  the  energies  of  Na- 
ture at  command,  and  up  to  this  hour  do  we 
know  with  what  a  steady  and  unfaltering 
hand  he  hath  wielded  them.    Look  to  the 


promise  as  equally  steadfast,  of  "  Lo,  I  arr 
with  you  always,  even  unto  the  end  of  the, 
world" — and  come  even  now  to  his  own 
appointed  ordinance  in  the  like  confidence 
of  a  fellowship  with  him,  as  you  would  to 
any  of  the  scenes  or  ordinations  of  Nature, 
and  in  the  confidence  that  there  the  Lord  of 
Nature  will  prove  himself  the  same  that  He 
has  ever  been.*  The  blood  that  was  an- 
nounced many  centuries  ago  to  cleanse 
from  all  sin,  cleanseth  still.  The  body 
which  hath  borne  in  all  past  ages  the  ini- 
quity of  believers,  beareth  it  still.  That  faith 
which  appropriates  Christ  and  all  the  bene- 
fits of  his  purchase,  to  the  soul,  still  per- 
forms the  same  office.  And  that  magnificent 
economy  of  Nature  which  was  established 
at  the  first,  and  so  abideth,  is  but  the  sym- 
bol of  that  higher  economy  of  grace  which 
continueth  to  this  day  according  to  all  its 
ordinances. 

"Whosoever  eateth  my  flesh,  and  drink- 
eth  my  blood,"  says  the  Saviour,  "  shall 
never  die."  When  you  sit  down  at  his  table, 
you  eat  the  bread,  and  you  drink  the  wine 
by  which  these  are  represented — and  if  this 
be  done  worthily,  if  there  be  a  right  corres- 
pondence between  the  hand  and  the  heart 
in  this  sacramental  service,  then  by  faith  do 
you  receive  the  benefits  of  the  shed  blood, 
and  the  broken  body ;  and  your  so  doing 
will  as  surely  as  any  succession  takes  place 
in  the  instituted  courses  of  Nature,  be  fol- 
lowed up  by  your  blessed  immortality.  And 
the  brighter  your  hopes  of  glory  hereafter, 
the  holier  will  you  be  in  all  your  acts  and 
affections  here.  The  character  even  now 
will  receive  a  tinge  from  the  prospect  that 
is  before  you — and  the  habitual  anticipation 
of  heaven  will  bring  down  both  of  its  charity 
and  its  sacredness  upon  your  heart.  He 
who  hath  this  hope  in  him  purifieth  him- 
self even  as  Christ  is  pure — and  even  from 
the  present,  if  a  true  approach  to  the  gate 
of  his  sanctuary,  will  you  carry  a  portion 
of  his  spirit  away  with  you.  In  partaking 
of  these,  his  consecrated  elements,  you  be- 
come partakers  of  his  gentleness  and  devo- 
tion, and  unwearied  beneficence — and  be- 
cause like  him  in  time,  you  will  live  with 
him  through  eternity. 


*  This  Sermon  was  delivered  on  the  morning  i  *' 
a  Communion  Sabbath. 


"•1 


THE  EXPULSIVE  POWER  OF  A  NEW   AFFECTION. 


271 


SERMON  II. 

The  expulsive  Power  of  a  new  Affection. 

"  Love  not  the  world,  neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world.     If  any  man  love  the  world,  the  love  of  the 
Father  is  not  in  him."- — 1  John  ii.  15. 


There  are  two  ways  i*  which  a  practi- 
cal moralist  may  attempt  to  displace  from 
the  human  heart  its  love  of  the  world — 
either  by  a  demonstration  of  the  world's 
vanity,  so  as  that  the  heart  shall  be  pre- 
vailed upon  simply  to  withdraw  its  regards 
from  an  object  that  is  not  worthy  of  it ;  or. 
by  setting  forth  another  object,  even  God, 
as  more  worthy  of  its  attachment,  so  as 
that  the  heart  shall  be  prevailed  upon  not 
to  resign  an  old  affection,  which  shall  have 
nothing  to  succeed  it,  but  to  exchange  an 
old  affection  for  a  new  one.  My  purpose  is 
to  show,  that  from  the  constitution  of  our 
nature,  the  former  method  is  altogether  in- 
competent and  ineffectual — and  that  the 
latter  method  will  alone  suffice  for  the  res- 
cue and  recovery  of  the  heart  from  the 
wrong  affection  that  domineers  over  it.  Af- 
ter having  accomplished  this  purpose,  I 
shall  attempt  a  few  practical  observations. 

Love  may  be  regarded  in  two  different 
conditions.  The  first  is,  when  its  object  is 
at  a  distance,  and  then  it  becomes  love  in  a 
state  of  desire.  The  second  is,  when  its 
object  is  in  possession,  and  then  it  becomes 
love  in  a  state  of  indulgence.  Under  the 
impulse  of  desire,  man  feels  himself  urged 
onward  in  some  path  or  pursuit  of  activity 
for  its  gratification.  The  faculties  of  his 
mind  are  put  into  busy  exercise.  In  the 
steady  direction  of  one  great  and  engross- 
ing interest,  his  attention  is  recalled  from 
the  many  reveries  into  which  it  might  other- 
wise have  wandered ;  and  the  powers  of  his 
body  are  forced  away  from  an  indolence  in 
which  it  else  might  have  languished ;  and 
that  time  is  crowded  with  occupation,  which 
but  for  some  object  of  keen  and  devoted 
ambition,  might  have  drivelled  along  in 
successive  hours  of  weariness  and  distaste — 
and  though  hope  does  not  always  enliven, 
and  success  does  not  always  crown  this 
career  of  exertion,  yet  in  the  midst  of  this 
very  variety,  and  with  the  alternations  of 
occasional  disappointment,  is  the  machinery 
of  the  whole  man  kept  in  a  sort  of  conge- 
nial play,  and  upholden  in  that  tone  and 
temper  wh'ch  are  most  agreeable  to  it.  In- 
somuch, that  if  through  the  extirpation  of 
that  desire  which  forms  the  originating 
principle  of  all  this  movement,  the  ma- 
chinery were  to  stop,  and  to  receive  no  im- 
pulse from  another  desire  substituted  in  its 
place,  the  man  would  be  left  with  all  his 
propensities  to  action  in  a  state  of  most 
painful  and  unnatural   abandonment.    A 


sensitive  being  suffers,  and  is  in  violence, 
if,  after  having  thoroughly  rested  from  his 
fatigue,  or  been  relieved  from  his  pain,  he 
continue  in  possession  of  powers  without 
any  excitement  to  these  powers;  if  he  pos- 
sess a  capacity  of  desire  without  having 
an  object  of  desire ;  or  if  he  have  a  spare 
energy  upon  his  person,  without  a  counter- 
part, and  without  a  stimulus  to  call  it  into 
operation.  The  misery  of  such  a  condition 
is  often  realized  by  him  who  is  retired  from 
business,  or  who  is  retired  from  law,  or  who 
is  even  retired  from  the  occupations  of  the 
chase,  and  of  the  gaming  table.  Such  is 
the  demand  of  our  nature  for  an  object  in 
pursuit,  that  no  accumulation  of  previous 
success  can  extinguish  it — and  thus  it  is, 
that  the  most  prosperous  merchant,  and  the 
most  victorious  general,  and  the  most  for- 
tunate gamester,  when  the  labour  of  their 
respective  vocations  has  come  to  a  close, 
are  often  found  to  languish  in  the  midst  of 
all  their  acquisitions,  as  if  out  of  their  kin- 
dred and  rejoicing  element.  It  is  quite  in 
vain  with  such  a  constitutional  appetite  for 
employment  in  man,  to  attempt  cutting 
away  from  him  the  spring  or  the  principle 
of  one  employment,  without  providing  him 
with  another.  The  whole  heart  and  habit 
will  rise  in  resistance  against  such  an  under- 
taking. The  else  unoccupied  female,  who 
spends  the  hours  of  every  evening  at  some 
play  of  hazard,  knows  as  well  as  you,  that 
the  pecuniary  gain,  or  the  honourable  tri- 
umph of  a  successful  contest,  are  altogether 
paltry.  It  is  not  such  a  demonstration  of 
vanity  as  this  that  will  force  her  away  from 
her  dear  and  delightful  occupation.  The 
habit  cannot  so  be  displaced,  as  to  leave 
nothing  but  a  negative  and  cheerless  va- 
cancy behind  it — though  it  may  so  be  sup- 
planted as  to  be  followed  up  by  another 
habit  of  employment,  to  which  the  power 
of  some  new  affection  has  constrained  her. 
It  is  willingly  suspended,  for  example,  on 
any  single  evening,  should  the  time  that 
wont  to  be  allotted  to  gaming,  require  to 
be  spent  on  the  preparations  of  an  approach- 
ing assembly. 

The  ascendant  power  of  a  second  affec- 
tion will  do,  what  no  exposition,  however 
forcible,  of  the  folly  and  worthlessness  of 
the  first,  ever  could  effectuate.  And  it  is 
the  same  in  the  great  world.  You  never 
will  be  able  to  arrest  any  of  its  leading  pur- 
suits, by  a  naked  demonstration  of  their 
vanity.    It  is  quite  in  vain  to  think  of  stop- 


272 


THE  EXPULSIVE  TOWER  OF  A  NEW  AFFECTION. 


[SERM. 


ping  one  of  these  pursuits  in  any  way  else, 
but  by  stimulating  to  another.     In  attempt- 
ing to  bring  a  worldly  man,  intent  and  bu- 
sied with  the  prosecution  of  his  objects,  to 
a  dead  stand,  you  have  not  merely  to  en- 
counter  the  charm  which  he  annexes  to 
these  objects — but  you  have  to  encounter 
the  pleasure  which  he  feels  in  the  very 
prosecution   of  them.     It  is  not  enough, 
then,  that  you  dissipate  the  charm,  by  your 
moral,  and  eloquent,  and  affecting  exposure 
of  its  illusiveness.  You  must  address  to  the 
eye  of  his  mind   another  object,  with  a 
charm  powerful  enough  to  dispossess  the 
first  of  its  influence,  and  to  engage  him  in 
some  other  prosecution  as  full  of  interest, 
and  hope,   and  congenial  activity,  as  the 
former.     It  is  this  which  stamps  an  impo- 
tency  on  all  moral  and  pathetic  declamation 
about  the  insignificance  of  the  world.     A 
man  will  no  more  consent  to  the  misery  of 
being  without  an  object,  because  that  object 
is  a  trifle,  or  of  being  without  a  pursuit,  be- 
cause that  pursuit  terminates  in  some  frivo- 
lous or  fugitive  acquirement,  than  he  will 
voluntarily  submit  himself  to  the  torture, 
because  that  torture  is  to  be  of  short  dura- 
tion.    If  to  be  without  desire  and  without 
exertion  altogether,  is  a  state  of  violence 
and  discomfort,  then  the  present  desire, 
with  its  correspondent  train  of  exertion,  is 
not  to  be  got  rid  of  simply  by  destroying  it. 
It  must  be  by  substituting  another  desire, 
and  another  line  or  habit  of  exertion  in  its 
place — and  the  most  effectual  way  of  with- 
drawing the  mind  from  one  object,  is  not 
by  turning  it  away  upon  desolate  and  un- 
peopled vacancy — but  by  presenting  to  its 
regards  another  object  still  more  alluring. 

These  remarks  apply  not  merely  to  love 
considered  in  its  state  of  desire  for  an  ob- 
ject not  yet  obtained.  They  apply  also  to 
love  considered  in  its  state  of  indulgence, 
or  placid  gratification,  with  an  object  al- 
ready in  possession.  It  is  seldom  that  any 
of  our  tastes  are  made  to  disappear  by  a 
mere  process  of  natural  extinction.  At 
least,  it  is  very  seldom  that  this  is  done 
through  the  instrumentality  of  reasoning. 
It  may  be  done  by  excessive  pampering — 
but  it  is  almost  never  done  by  the  mere 
force  of  mental  determination.  But  what 
cannot  be  thus  destroyed,  may  be  dispos- 
sessed— and  one  taste  may  be  made  to  give 
way  to  another,  and  to  lose  its  power  en- 
tirely as  the  reigning  affection  of  the  mind. 
It  is  thus,  that  the  boy  ceases,  at  length,  to 
be  the  slave  of  his  appetite,  but  it  is  because 
a  manlier  taste  has  now  brought  it  into  sub- 
ordination— and  that  the  youth  ceases  to 
idolize  pleasure,  but  it  is  because  the  idol 
of  wealth  has  become  the  stronger  and  got- 
ten the  ascendency — and  that  even  the  love 
of  money  ceases  to  have  the  mastery  over 
tho  heart  of  many  a  thriving  citizen,  but  it 
■  •    • n    iwn  into  the  whirl  of  city  poli- 


tics, another  affection  has   been   wrought 
into  his  moral  system,  and  he  is  now  lorded 
over  by  the  love  of  power.     There  is  not 
one  of  these  transformations  in  which  the 
heart  is  left  without  an  object.    Its  desire 
for  one  particular  object  may  be  conquered  ; 
but  as  to  its  desire  for  having  some  one 
object  or  other,  this  is  unconquerable.     Its 
adhesion  to  that  on  which  it  has  fastened 
the  preference  of  its  regards,  cannot  wil- 
lingly be  overcome  by  the  rending  away  of 
a  simple  separation.     It  can  be  done  only 
by  the   application  of  something  else,  to 
which  it  may  feel  the  adhesion  of  a  still 
stronger  and  more  powerful   preference. 
Such  is  the  grasping  tendency  of  the  hu- 
man heart,  that  it  must  have  a  something 
to  lay  hold  of — and  which,  if  wrested  away 
without  the  substitution  of  another  some- 
thing in  its  place,  would  leave  a  void  and  a 
vacancy  as  painful  to  the  mind,  as  hunger 
is  to  the  natural  system.    It  may  be  dispos- 
sessed of  one  object,  or  of  any,  but  it  can- 
not be  desolated  of  all.     Let  there   be  a 
breathing  and  a  sensitive  heart,  but  without 
a  liking  and  without  affinity  to  any  of  the 
things  that  are  around  it,  and  in  a  state  of 
cheerless  abandonment,  it,  would  be  alive  to 
nothing  but   the  burden  of  its  own  con- 
sciousness, and  feel  it  to  be  intolerable.     It 
would    make    no   difference   to  its  owner, 
whether  he  dwelt  in  the  midst  of  a  gay  and 
goodly  world,  or  placed  afar  beyond  the 
outskirts  of  creation,  he  dwelt  a  solitary 
unit   in  dark  and  unpeopled  nothingness. 
The  heart  must  have  something  to  cling  to 
— and  never,  by  its  own  voluntary  consent, 
will  it  so  denude  itself  of  all  its  attachments, 
that  there  shall  not  be  one  remaining  object 
that  can  draw  or  solicit  it. 

The  misery  of  a  heart  thus  bereft  of  all 
relish  for  that  which  wont  to  minister  en- 
joyment, is  strikingly  exemplified  in  those, 
who,  satiated  with  indulgence,  have  been 
so  belaboured,  as  it  were,  with  the  variety 
and  the  poignancy  of  the  pleasurable  sen- 
sations that  they  have  experienced,  that 
they  are  at  length  fatigued  out  of  all  ca- 
pacity for  sensation  whatever.  The  disease 
of  ennui  is  more  frequent  in  the  French 
metropolis,  where  amusement  is  more  ex- 
clusively the  occupation  of  higher  classes, 
than  it  is  in  the  British  metropolis,  where 
the  longings  of  the  heart  are  more  diversi- 
fied by  the  resources  of  business  and  poli- 
tics. There  are  the  votaries  of  fashion, 
who,  in  this  way,  have  at  length  become 
the  victims  of  fashionable  excess — in  whom 
the  very  multitude  of  their  enjoyments,  has 
at  last  extinguished  their  power  of  enjoy- 
ment— who,  with  the  gratifications  of  art 
and  nature  at  command,  now  look  upon  all 
that  is  around  them  Avith  an  eye  of  taste- 
lessness — who,  plied  with  the  delights  of 
sense  and  of  splendour  even  to  weariness, 
and  incapable  of  higher  delights,  have  come 


"•] 


THE  EXPULSIVE  POWER  OF  A  NEW  AFFECTION'. 


273 


to  the  end  of  all  their  perfection,  and  like 
Solomon  of  old,  found  it  to  be  vanity  and 
vexation.  The  man  whose  heart  has  thus 
6een  turned  into  a  desert,  can  vouch  for  the 
insupportable  languor  which  must  ensue, 
when  one  affection  is  thus  plucked  away 
from  the  bosom,  without  another  to  replace 
it.  It  is  not  necessary  that  a  man  receive 
pain  from  any  thing;,  in  order  to  become 
•  miserable.  It  is  barely  enough  that  he  looks 
with  distaste  to  every  thing — and  in  that 
asylum  which  is  the  repository  of  minds 
out  of  joint,  and  where  the  organ  of  feeling 
as  well  as  the  organ  of  intellect,  has  been 
impaired,  it  is  not  in  the  cell  of  loud  and 
frantic  outcries  where  you  will  meet  with 
the  acme  of  mental  suffering.  But  that  is 
the  individual  who  outpeers  in  wretched- 
ness all  his  fellows,  who  throughout  the 
whole  expanse  of  nature  and  society,  meets 
not  an  ohject  that  has  at  all  the  power  to 
detain  or  to  interest  him;  who  neither  in 
earth  beneath,  nor  in  heaven  above,  knows 
of  a  single  charm  to  which  his  heart  can 
send  forth  one  desirous  or  responding 
movement ;  to  whom  the  world,  in  his  eye 
a  vast  and  empty  desolation,  has  left  him 
nothing  but  Ids  own  consciousness  to  feed 
upon — dead  to  all  that  is  without  him,  and 
alive  to  nothing  but  to  the  load  of  his  own 
torpid  and  useless  existence. 

It  will  now  be  seen,  perhaps,  why  it  is 
that  the  heart  keeps  by  its  present  affections 
with  so  much  tenacity — when  the  attempt 
is,  to  do  their,  away  by  a  mere  process  of 
extirpation.  It  will  not  consent  to  be  so 
desolated.  The  strong  man,  whose  dwell- 
ing-place is  there,  may  be  compelled  to  give 
way  to  another  occupier — but  unless  ano- 
ther stronger  than  he,  has  power  todispos- 
■i  ss  and  *to  succeed  him,  he  will  keep  his 
present  lodgmenl  inviolable.  The  heart 
would  dnst  its  own  emptiness.    It 

could  not  hear  to  be  so  left  in  a  state  of 
wasteand  (ductless  insipidity.  Themoralist 
who  tries  such  a  process  of  dispossession 
is  this  upon  the  heart,  is  thwarted  at  every 
step  by  tii':  recoil  of  its  own  mechanism. 
You  have  all  heard  that  Nature  abhors  a 
vacuum.  Such  at  least  is  the  nature  of  the 
eart,  that  though  the  room  which  is  in  it 
may  change  one  inmate  for  another,  it  can- 
not be  left  void  without  the  pain  of  most 
intolerable  suffering.  It  is  not  enough  then 
to  argue  the  folly  of  an  existing  affection. 
ft  is  not  enough,  in  the  terms  of  a  forcible 
or  an  affecting  demonstration,  to  make  good 
the  evanescence  of  its  object.  It  may  not 
even  be  enough  to  associate  the  threats  and 
terrors  of  some  coming  vengeance,  with  the 
indulgence  of  it.  The  heart  may  still  re- 
sist the  every  application,  by  obedience  to 
which  it  would  finally  be  conducted  to  a 
state  so  much  at  war  with  all  its  appetites 
as  that  of  downright  inanition.  So  to  tear 
away  an  affection  from  the  heart,  as  to  leave 
35 


it  bare  of  all  its  regards,  and  of  all  its  pre- 
ferences, were  a  hard  and  hopeless  under- 
taking— and  it  would  appear  as  if  the  alone 
powerful  engine  of  dispossession,  were  to 
bring  the  mastery  of  another  affection  to 
bear  upon  it. 

We  know  not  a  more  sweeping  interdict 
upon  the  affections  of  Nature,  than  that 
which  is  delivered  by  the  Apostle  in  the 
verse  before  us.  To  bid  a  man  into  whom 
there  is  not  yet  entered  the  great  and 
ascendant  influence  of  the  principle  of  re- 
generation, to  bid  him  withdraw  his  love 
from  all  the  things  that  are  in  the  world,  is 
to  bid  him  give  up  all  the  affections  that  are 
in  his  heart.  The  world  is  the  all  of  a  na- 
tural man.  He  has  not  a  taste,  nor  a  desire, 
that  points  not  to  a  something  placed  with- 
in the  confines  of  its  visible  horizon.  He 
loves  nothing  above  it,  and  he  cares  for  no- 
thing beyond  it;  and  to  bid  him  love  not 
the  world,  is  to  pass  a  sentence  of  expulsion 
on  all  the  inmates  of  his  bosom.  To  esti- 
mate the  magnitude  and  the  difficulty  of 
such  a  surrender,  let  us  only  think  that  it 
were  just  as  arduous  to  prevail  on  him  not 
to  love  wealth,  which  is  but  one  of  tin- 
things  in  the  world,  as  to  prevail  on  him 
to  set  wilful  fire  to  his  own  property.  This 
he  might  do  with  sore  and  painful  reluc- 
tance, if  he  saw  that  the  salvation  of  his 
life  hung  upon  it.  But  this  he  would  do 
willingly,  if  he  saw  that  a  new  property  of 
tenfold  value  Mas  instantly  to  emerge  from 
the  wreck  of  the  old  one.  In  this  case  there 
is  something  more  than  the  mere  displace- 
ment of  an  affection.  There  is  the  over- 
bearing of  one  affection  by  another.  But 
to  desolate  his  heart  of  all  love  for  the 
things  of  the  world,  without  the  substitu 
tion  of  any  love  in  its  place,  were  to  him  a 
process  of  as  unnatural  violence,  as  to  de- 
stroy all  the  things  he  has  in  the  world. 
and  give  him  nothing  in  their  room.  So 
that,  if  to  love  not  the  world  be  indispensa- 
ble to  one's  Christianity,  then  the  cruci- 
fixion of  the  old  man  is  not  too  strong  a 
term  to  mark  that  transition  in  his  history, 
when  all  old  things  are  done  away,  and  all 
things  are  become  new. 

We  hope  that  by  this  time,  you  under- 
stand the  impotency  of  a  mere  demonstra- 
tion of  this  world's  insignificance.  Its  sole 
practical  effect,  if  it  had  any,  would  be  to 
leave  the  heart  in  a  state  which  to  every 
heart  is  insupportable,  and  that  is  a  mere 
state  of  nakedness  and  negation.  You  may 
remember  the  fond  and  unbroken  tenacity 
with  which  your  heart  has  often  recurred 
to  pursuits,  over  the  utter  frivolity  of  which 
it  sighed  and  wept  but  yesterday.  The 
arithmetic  of  your  short-lived  days,  may 
on  Sabbath  make  the  clearest  impression 
upon  your  understanding — and  from  his 
fancied  bed  of  death,  may  the  preacher 
cause  a  voice  to  descend    in  rebuke  and 


274 


The  expulsive  power  of  a  new  affection'. 


[sERM. 


mockery  on  all  the  pursuits  of  earthliness 
— and  as  he  pictures  before  you  the  fleet- 
ing generations  of  men,  with  the  absoibing 
grave,  whither  all  the  joys  and  interests  of 
the  world  hasten  to  their  sure  and  speedy 
oblivion,  may  you,  touched  and  solemnized 
by  his  argument,  feel  for  a  moment  as  if 
on  the  eve  of  a  practical  and  permanent 
emancipation  from  a  scene  of  so  much 
vanity.  But  the  morrow  comes,  and  the 
business  of  the  world,  and  the  objects  of 
the  world,  and  the  moving  forces  of  the 
world  come  along  with  it— and  the  ma- 
chinery of  the  heart,  in  virtue  of  which  it 
must  have  something  to  grasp,  or  some- 
thing to  adhere  to,  brings  it  under  a  kind 
of  moral  necessity  to  be  actuated  just  as 
before — and  in  utter  repulsion  towards  a 
state  so  unkindly  as  that  of  being  frozen 
out  both  of  delight  and  of  desire,  does  it 
feel  all  the  warmth  and  the  urgency  of  its 
wonted  solicitations — nor  in  the  habit  and 
history  of  the  whole  man,  can  we  detect  so 
much  as  one  symptom  of  the  new  creature 
— so  that  the  church,  instead  of  being  to 
him  a  school  of  obedience,  has  been  a  mere 
sauntering  place  for  the  luxury  of  a  pass- 
ing and  theatrical  emotion;  and  the  preach- 
ing which  is  mighty  to  compel  the  attend- 
ance of  multitudes,  which  is  mighty  to  still 
and  to  solemnize  the  hearers  into  a  kind 
of  tragic  sensibility,  which  is  mighty  in  the 
play  of  variety  and  vigour  that  it  can  keep 
up  around  the  imagination,  is  not  mighty  to 
the  pulling  down  of  strong-holds. 

The  love  of  the  world  cannot  be  expung- 
ed by  a  mere  demonstration  of  the  world's 
worthlessness.  But  may  it  not  be  supplant- 
ed by  the  love  of  that  which  is  more  wor- 
thy than  itself?  The  heart  cannot  be  pre- 
vailed upon  to  part  with  the  world,  by  a 
simple  act  of  resignation.  But  may  not 
the  heart  be  prevailed  upon  to  admit  into 
its  preference  another,  who  shall  subordi- 
nate the  world,  and  bring  it  down  from  its 
wonted  ascendency  1  If  the  throne  which 
is  placed  there,  must  have  an  occupier,  and 
the  tyrant  that  now  reigns  has  occupied  it 
wrongfully,  he  may  not  leave  a  bosom 
which  would  rather  detain  him,  than  be 
left  in  desolation.  But  may  he  not  give 
way  to  the  lawful  sovereign,  appearing 
with  every  charm  that  can  secure  his  will- 
ing admittance,  and  taking  unto  himself  his 
great  power  to  subdue  the  moral  nature  of 
man,  and  to  reign  over  it  ?  In  a  word,  if 
the  way  to  disengage  the  heart  from  the 
positive  love  of  one  great  and  ascendent 
object,  is  to  fasten  it  in  positive  love  to  an- 
other, then  it  is  not  by  exposing  the  worth- 
lessness of  the  former,  but  by  addressing  to 
the  mental  eye  the  worth  and  excellence  of 
the  latter,  that  all  old  things  are  to  be  done 
away,  and  all  things  are  to  become  new. 

To  obliterate  all  our  present  affections,  by 
simply  expunging  them,  and  so  as  to  leave 


the  seat  of  them  unoccupied,  would  be  to 
destroy  the  old  character,  and  to  substitue 
no  new  character  in  its  place.  But  when 
they  take  their  departure  upon  the  ingress 
of  other  visitors ;  when  they  resign  their 
sway  to  the  power  and  the  predominance 
of  new  affections;  when,  abandoning  the 
heart  to  solitude,  they  merely  give  place  to 
a  successor  who  turns  it  into  as  busy  a 
residence  of  desire,  and  interest,  and  ex- 
pectation as  before— there  is  nothing  in  ail 
this  to  thwart  or  to  overbear  any  of  the 
laws  of  our  sentient  nature — and  we  see 
how,  in  fullest  accordance  with  the  me- 
chanism of  the  heart,  a  great  moral  revolu- 
tion may  be  made  to  take  place  upon  it. 

This,  we  trust,  will  explain  the  operation 
of  that  charm  which  accompanies  the  effec- 
tual preaching  of  the  gospel.  The  love  of 
God,  and  the  love  of  the  world,  are  two 
affections,  not  merely  in  a  state  of  rival- 
ship,  but  in  a  state  of  enmity — and  that  so 
irreconcilable,  that  they  cannot  dwell  to- 
gether in  the  same  bosom.  We  have  al- 
ready affirmed  how  impossible  it  were~for 
the  heart,  by  any  innate  elasticity  of  its 
own,  to  cast  the  world  away  from  it,  and 
thus  reduce  itself  to  a  wilderness.  The 
heart  is  not  so  constituted,  and  the  only 
way  to  dispossess  it  of  an  old  affection,  is 
by  the  expulsive  power  of  a  new  one.  No- 
thing can  exceed  the  magnitude  of  the  re- 
quired change  in  a  man's  character — when 
bidden  as  he  is  in  the  New  Testament,  to 
love  not  the  world ;  no,  nor  any  of  the 
things  that  are  in  the  world — for  this  so 
comprehends  all  that  is  dear  to  him  in 
existence,  as  to  be  equivalent  to  a  com- 
mand of  self-annihilation.  But  the  same 
revelation  which  dictates  so  mjghty  an 
obedience,  places  within  our  reach  as 
mighty  an  instrument  of  obedience.  It 
brings  for  admittance,  to  the  very  door  of 
our  heart,  an  affection  which,  once  seated 
upon  its  throne,  will  either  subordinate 
every  previous  inmate,  or  bid  it  away.  Be- 
side the  world,  it  places  before  the  eye  of 
the  mind,  him  who  made  the  world,  and 
with  this  peculiarity,  which  is  all  its  own 
— that  in  the  Gospel  do  we  so  behold  God, 
as  that  we  may  love  God.  It  is  there,  and 
there  only,  where  God  stands  revealed  as 
an  object  of  confidence  to  sinners — and 
where  our  desire  after  him  is  not  chilled 
into  apathy,  by  that  barrier  of  human  guilt 
which  intercepts  every  approach  that  is 
not  made  to  him  through  the  appointed 
Mediator.  It  is  the  bringing  in  of  this  bet- 
ter hope,  whereby  we  draw  nigh  unto  God 
— and  to  live  without  hope,  is  to  live  with- 
out God,  and  if  the  heart  be  without  God, 
the  world  will  then  have  all  the  ascendency. 
It  is  God  apprehended  by  the  believer  as 
God  in  Christ,  who  alone  can  dispost  it 
from  this  ascendency.  It  is  when  he  stands 
dismantled  of  the  terrors  which  belong  to 


II.] 


THE  EXPULSIVE  POWER  OF  A  NEW  AFFECTION. 


275 


nim  as  an  offended  lawgiver,  and  when  we 
are  enabled  by  faith,  which  is  his  own  gift, 
to  see  his  glory  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  to  hear  his  beseeching  voice,  as  it  pro- 
tests good  will  to  men,  and  entreats  the 
return  of  all  who  will  to  a  full  pardon,  and 
a  gracious  acceptance — it  is  then,  that  a 
love  paramount  to  the  love  of  the  world, 
and  at  length  expulsive  of  it,  first  arises  in 
the  regenerating  bosom.  It  is  when  re- 
leased from  the  spirit  of  bondage,  with 
which  love  cannot  dwell,  and  when  admit- 
ted into  the  number  of  God's  children, 
through  the  faith  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus, 
the  spirit  of  adoption  is  poured  upon  us — it 
is  then  that  the  heart,  brought  under  the 
mastery  of  one  great  and  predominant  af- 
fection, is  delivered  from  the  tyranny  of 
its  former  desires,  and  in  the  only  way  in 
which  deliverance  is  possible.  And  that 
faith  which  is  revealed  to  us  from  heaven, 
as  indispensable  to  a  sinner's  justification 
in  the  sight  of  God,  is  also  the  instrument 
of  the  greatest  of  all  moral  and  spiritual 
achievements  on  a  nature  dead  to  the  in- 
fluence, and  beyond  the  reach  of  every 
other  application. 

Thus  may  we  come  to  perceive  what  it 
is  that  makes  the  most  effective  kind  of 
preaching.  It  is  not  enough  to  hold  out 
to  the  world's  eye  the  mirror  of  its  own 
imperfections.  It  is  not  enough  to  come 
forth  with  a  demonstration,  however  pa- 
thetic, of  the  evanescent  character  of  all  its 
enjoyments.  It  is  not  enough  to  travel 
the  walk  of  experience  along  with  you, 
and  speak  to  your  own  conscience,  and 
vour  own  recollection  of  the  deceitfulness 
of  the  heart,  and  the  deceitfulness  of  all 
that  the  heart  is  set  upon.  There  is  many  a 
bearer  of  the  Gospel  message,  who  has  not 
shrewdness  of  natural  discernment  enough, 
and  who  has  not  power  of  characteristic  de- 
scription enough,  and  who  has  not  the  talent 
of  moral  delineation  enough,  to  present  you 
with  a  vivid  and  faithful  sketch  of  the  ex- 
isting follies  of  society.  But  that  very 
corruption  which  he  has  not  the  faculty  of 
representing  in  its  visible  details,  he  may 
practically  be  the  instrument  of  eradicating 
in  its  principle.  Let  him  be  but  a  faithful 
expounder  of  the  gospel  testimony. — Un- 
able as  he  may  be  to  apply  a  descriptive 
hand  to  the  character  of  the  present  world, 
let  him  but  report  with  accuracy  the  mat- 
ter which  revelation  has  brought  to  him 
from  a  distant  world, — unskilled  as  he  is  in 
the  work  of  so  anatomizing  the  heart,  as 
with  the  power  of  a  novelist  to  create  a 
graphical  or  impressive  exhibition  of  the 
worthlessness  of  its  many  affections — let 
him  only  deal  in  those  mysteries  of  peculiar 
doctrine,  on  which  the  best  of  novelists 
have  thrown  the  wantonness  of  their  deri- 
sion. He  may  not  be  able,  with  the  eye 
of  shrewd  and  satirical  observation,  to  ex- 


pose to  the  ready  recognition  of  his  hearers 
the  desires  of  world  liness — but  with  the 
tidings  of  the  gospel  in  commission,  he 
may  wield  the  only  engine  that  can  extir- 
pate them.  He  cannot  do  what  some  have 
done,  when,  as  if  by  the  hand  of  a  ma- 
gician, they  have  brought  out  to  view, 
from  the  hidden  recesses  of  our  nature,  the 
foibles  and  lurking  appetites  which  belong 
to  it. — But  he  has  a  truth  in  his  possession, 
which  into  whatever  heart  it  enters,  will, 
like  the  rod  of  Aaron,  swaliow  up  them  all 
— and  unqualified  as  he  ma}'  be,  to  describe 
the  old  man  in  all  the  nicer  shading  of  his 
natural  and  constitutional  varieties,  with 
him  is  deposited  that  ascendent  influence  un- 
der which  the  leading  tastes  and  tendencies 
of  the  old  man  are  destroyed,  and  he  becomes 
a  new  creature  in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

Let  us  not  cease,  then,  to  ply  the  only 
instrument  of  powerful  and  positive  opera- 
tion, to  do  away  from  you  the  love  of  the 
world.  Let  us  try  every  legitimate  method 
of  finding  access  to  your  hearts  for  the  love 
of  him  who  is  greater  than  the  world.  For 
this  purpose,  let  us,  if  possible,  clear  away 
that  shroud  of  unbelief  which  so  hides  and 
darkens  the  face  of  the  Deity.  Let  us  in- 
sist on  his  claims  to  your  affection — and 
whether  i"i  the  shape  of  gratitude,  or  in  the 
shape  of  esteem,  let  us  never  cease  to  affirm, 
that  in  the  whole  of  that  wondrous  econo- 
my, the  purpose  of  which  is  to  reclaim  a 
sinful  world  unto  himself— he,  the  God  of 
love,  so  sets  himself  forth  in  characters  of 
endearment,  that  nought  but  faith,  and 
nought  but  understanding,  are  wanting,  on 
your  part,  to  call  forth  the  love  of  your 
hearts  back  again. 

And  here  let  me  advert  to  the  incredulity 
of  a  worldly  man  ;  when  he  brings  his  own 
sound  and  secular  experience  to  bear  upon 
the  high  doctrines  of  Christianity — when 
he  looks  on  regeneration  as  a  thing  impos- 
sible— when  feeling  as  he  does,  the  obsti- 
nacies of  his  own  heart  on  the  side  of 
things  present,  and  casting  an  intelligent 
eye,  much  exercised  perhaps  in  the  obser- 
vation of  human  life,  on  the  equal  obstina- 
cies of  all  who  are  around  him,  he  pro- 
nounces this  whole  matter  about  the  cruci- 
fixion of  the  old  man,  and  the  resurrection 
of  a  new  man  in  his  place,  to  be  in  down- 
right opposition  to  all  that  is  known  and 
witnessed  of  the  real  nature  of  humanity. 
We  think  that  we  have  seen  such  men. 
who,  firmly  trenched  in  their  own  vigorous 
and  homebred  sagacity,  and  shrewdly  re- 
gardful of  all  that  passes  before  them 
through  the  week,  and  upon  the  scenes  of 
ordinary  business,  look  on  that  transition 
of  the  heart  by  which  it  gradually  dies 
unto  time,  and  awakens  in  all  the  life  of  a 
new-felt  and  ever-growing  desire  towards 
God,  as  a  mere  Sabbath  speculation  ;  and 
who  thus,  with  all  their  attention  engrossed 


276 


THE  EXPULSIVE  POWER  OF  A  NEW  AFFECTION. 


[SERM. 


upon  the  concerns  of  earthliness,  continue 
unmoved,  to  the  end  of  their  days,  amongst 
the  feelings,  and  the  appetites,  and  the  pur- 
suits of  earthliness.  If  the  thought  of  death, 
and  another  state  of  being  after  it,  comes 
across  them  at  all,  it  is  not  with  a  change 
so  radical  as  that  of  being  born  again,,  that 
they  ever  connect  the  idea  of  preparation. 
They  have  some  vague  conception  of  its 
being  quite  enough  that  they  acquit  them- 
selves in  some  decent  and  tolerable  way 
of  their  relative  obligations  ;  and  that,  upon 
the  strength  of  some  such  social  and  do- 
mestic moralities  as  are  often  realized  by 
him  in  whose  heart  the  love  of  God  has 
never  entered,  they  will  be  transplanted  in 
safety  from  this  world,  where  God  is  the 
Being  with  whom  it  may  almost  be  said, 
that  they  have  had  nothing  to  do,  to  that 
world  where  God  is  the  Being  with  whom 
they  will  have  mainly  and  immediately  to 
do  throughout  all  eternity.  They  admit  all 
that  is  said  of  the  utter  vanity  of  time,  when 
taken  up  with  as  a  resting  place.  But  they 
resist  every  application  made  upon  the 
heart  of  man,  with  the  view  of  so  shifting 
its  tendencies,  that  it  shall  not  henceforth 
find  in  the  interests  of  time,  all  its  rest  and 
all  its  refreshment.  They,  in  fact,  regard 
such  an  attempt  as  an  enterprise  that  is  al- 
together aerial— and  with  a  tone  of  secular 
wisdom,  caught  from  the  familiarities  of 
every-day  experience,  do  they  see  a  vision- 
ary character  in  all  that  is  said  of  setting 
our  affections  on  the  things  that  are  above  ; 
and  of  walking  by  faith ;  and  of  keeping 
our  hearts  in  such  a  love  of  God  as  shall 
shut  out  from  them  the  love  of  the  world  ; 
and  of  having  no  confidence  in  the  flesh  ; 
and  of  so  renouncing  earthly  things  as  to 
have  our  conversation  in  heaven. 

Now,  it  is  altogether  worthy  of  being  re- 
marked of  those  men  who  thus  disrelish 
spiritual  Christianity,  and,  in  fact,  deem  it 
an  impracticable  acquirement,  how  much 
of  a  piece  their  incredulity  about  the  de- 
mands of  Christianity,  and  their  incredulity 
about  the  doctrines  of  Christianity,  are  with 
one  another.  No  wonder  that  they  feel  the 
work  of  the  New  Testament  to  be  beyond 
their  strength,  so  long  as  they  hold  the 
words  of  the  New  Testament  to  be  beneath 
their  attention.  Neither  they  nor  any  one 
else  can  dispossess  the  heart  of  an  old  af- 
fection, but  by  the  impulsive  power  of  a  new 
one — and,  if  that  new  affection  be  the  love 
of  God,  neither  they  nor  any  one  else  can 
be  made  to  entertain  it,  but  on  such  a  re- 
presentation of  the  Deity,  as  shall  draw  the 
heart  of  the  sinner  towards  him.  Now 
it  is  just  their  unbelief  which  screens 
from  the  discernment  of  their  minds  this 
representation.  They  do  not  see  the  love 
of  God  in  sending  his  Son  into  the  world. 
They  do  not  see  the  expression  of  his  ten- 
derness to  men,  in  sparing  him  not,  but 


giving  him  up  unto  the  death  for  us  all.  They 
do  not  see  the  sufficiency  of  the  atonement, 
or  of  the  sufferings  that  were  endured  by 
him  who  bore  the  burden  that  sinners 
should  have  borne.  They  do  not  see  the 
blended  holiness  and  compassion  of  the 
Godhead,  in  that  he  passed  by  the  trans- 
gressions of  his  creatures,  yet  could  not 
pass  them  by  without  an  expiation.  It  is  a 
mystery  to  them,  how  a  man  should  pass 
to  the  state  of  godliness  from  a  state  of  na- 
ture— but  had  they  only  a  believing  view 
of  God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  this  would  re 
solve  for  them  the  whole  mystery  of  godli 
ness.  As  it  is,  they  cannot  get  quit  of 
their  old  affections,  because  they  are  out 
of  sight  from  all  those  truths  which  have 
influence  to  raise  a  new  one.  They  are  like 
the  children  of  Israel  in  the  land  of  Egypt, 
when  required  to  make  bricks  without  straw 
— they  cannot  love  God,  while  they  want 
the  only  food  which  can  aliment  this  affection 
in  a  sinner's  bosom— and  however  great 
their  errors  may  be  both  in  resisting  the  de- 
mands of  the  Gospel  as  impracticable,  and 
in  rejecting  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  as 
inadmissible,  yet  there  is  not  a  spiritual 
man  (and  it  is  the  prerogative  of  him  who 
is  spiritual  to  judge  all  men)  who  will  not 
perceive  that  there  is  a  consistency  in  these 
errors. 

But  if  there  be  a  consistency  in  the  errors, 
in  like  manner  is  there  a  consistency  in  the 
truths  which  are  opposite  to  them.  The 
man  who  believes  in  the  peculiar  doctrines, 
will  readily  bow  to  the  peculiar  demands 
of  Christianity.  When  he  is  told  to  love 
God  supremely,  this  may  startle  another, 
but  it  will  not  startle  him  to  whom  God  has 
been  revealed  in  peace,  and  in  pardon,  and 
in  all  the  freeness  of  an  offered  reconcilia- 
tion. When  told  to  shut  out  the  world  from 
his  heart,  this  may  be  impossible  with  him 
who  has  nothing  to  replace  it — but  not  im- 
possible with  him,  who  has  found  in  God 
a  sure  and  a  satisfying  portion.  When  told 
to  withdraw  his  affections  from  the  things 
that,  are  beneath,  this  were  laying  an  order 
of  self-extinction  upon  the  man,  who  knows 
not  another  quarter  in  the  whole  sphere  of 
his  contemplation,  to  which  he  could  trans- 
fer them — but  it  were  not  grievous  to  him 
whose  view  has  been  opened  up  to  the  love- 
liness and  glory  of  the  things  that  are 
above,  and  can  there  find,  for  every  feeling 
of  his  sou],  a  most  ample  and  delighted  oc- 
cupation. When  told  to  look  not  to  the 
things  that  are  seen  and  temporal,  this  were 
blotting  out  the  light  of  all  that  is  visible 
from  the  prospect  of  him  in  whose  eye 
there  is  a  wall  of  partition  between  guilty 
nature  and  the  joys  of  eternity — but  he 
who  believes  that  Christ  hath  broken  down 
this  wall,  finds  a  gathering  radiance  upon 
his  soul,  as  he  looks  onwards  in  faith  to 
the   things  that   are  unseen  and  eternal. 


II.] 


THE  EXPULSIVE  POWER   OF  A  NEW  AFFECTION. 


277 


Tell  a  man  to  be  holy — and  how  can  he 
compass  such  a  performance,  when  his 
alone  fellowship  with  holiness  is  a  fellow- 
ship of  despair?  It  is  the  atonement  of  the 
cross  reconciling  the  holiness  of  the  law- 
giver with  the  safety  of  the  offender,  that 
hath  opened  the  way  for  a  sanctifying  in- 
fluence into  the  sinner's  heart,  and  he  can 
take  a  kindred  impression  from  the  cha- 
racter of  God  now  brought  nigh,  and  now 
at  peace  with  him.  Separate  the  demand 
from  the  doctrine,  and  you  have  either  a 
system  of  righteousness  that  is  impractica- 
ble, or  a  barren  orthodoxy.  Bring  the  de- 
mand and  the  doctrine  together — and  the 
true  disciple  of  Christ  is  able  to  do  the  one, 
through  the  other  strengthening  him.  The 
motive  is  adequate  to  the  movement ;  and 
the  bidden  obedience  of  the  Gospel  is  not 
beyond  the  measure  of  his  strength,  just 
because  the  doctrine  of  the  Gospel  is  not 
beyond  the  measure  of  his  acceptance. 
The  shield  of  faith,  and  the  hope  of  salva- 
tion, and  the  Word  of  God,  and  the  girdle  of 
truth — these  are  the  armour  that  he  has  put 
on ;  and  with  these  the  battle  is  won,  and  the 
eminence  is  reached,  and  the  man  stands  on 
the  vantage  ground  of  a  new  field  and  a  new 
prospect.  The  effect  is  great,  but  the  cause 
is  equal  to  it — and  stupendous  as  this  moral 
resurrection  to  the  precepts  of  Christianity, 
undoubtedly  is,  there  is  an  element  of 
strength  enough  to  give  it  being  and  con- 
tinuance in  the  principles  of  Christianity. 

The  object  of  the  Gospel  is  both  to  pacify 
the  sinner's  conscience,  and  to  purify  his 
heart ;  and  it  is  of  importance  to  observe, 
that  what  mars  the  one  of  these  objects, 
mars  the  other  also.  The  best  way  of  cast- 
ing out  an  impure  affection  is  to  admit  a 
pure  one;  and  by  the  love  of  what  is  good, 
to  expel  the  love  of  what  is  evil.  Thus  it 
is,  thai  the  freer  the  Gospel,  the  more  sanc- 
tifying is  the  Gospel ;  and  the  more  it  is  re- 
ceived as  a  doctrine  of  grace,  the  more  will 
it  be  felt  as  a  doctrine  according  to  godli- 
ness. This  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  the 
Christian  life,  that  the  more  a  man  holds 
of  God  as  a  pensioner,  the  greater  is  the 
payment  of  service  that  Ik;  renders  back 
again.  On  the  (enure  of  "  Do  this  and  live," 
a  spirit  of  fearl'ulness 4s  sure  to  enter;  and 
the  jealousies  of  a  legal  bargain  chase  away 
all  confidence  from  the  intercourse  between 
God  and  man  ;  and  the  creature  striving  to 
be  square  and  eVen  with  his  Creator,  is,  in 
fact,  pursuing  all  the  while  his  own  selfish- 
ness instead  of  God's  glory;  and  with  all 
the  conformities  which  he  labours  to  ac- 
complish, the  soul  of  obedience  is  not  there, 
the  mind  is  not  subject  to  the  law  of  God, 
nor  indeed  under  such  an  economy  ever 
can  be.  It  is  only  when,  as  in  the  Gospel, 
acceptance  is  bestowed  as  a  present,  with- 
out money  and  without  price,  that  the  se- 
curity which  man  feels  in  God  is  placed 


beyond  the  reach  of  disturbance — or,  that 
he  can  repose  in  him,  as  one  friend  reposes 
in  another — or,  that  any  liberal  and  gene- 
rous understanding  can  be  established  be- 
twixt them — the  one  party  rejoicing  over 
the  other  to  do  him  good — the  other  find- 
ing that  the  truest  gladness  of  his  heart  lies 
in  the  impulse  of  a  gratitude,  by  which  it  is 
awakened  to  the  charms  of  a  new  moral 
existence.  Salvation  by  grace — salvation 
by  free  grace — salvation  not  of  works,  but 
according  to  the  mercy  of  God — salvation 
on  such  a  footing  is  not  more  indispensable 
to  the  deliverance  of  our  persons  from  the 
hand  of  justice,  than  it  is  to  the  deliverance 
of  our  hearts  from  the  chill  and  the  weight 
of  ungodliness.  Retain  a  single  shred  or 
fragment  of  legality  with  the  Gospel,  and 
you  raise  a  topic  of  distrust  between  man 
and  God.  You  take  away  from  the  power 
of  the  Gospel  to  melt  and  to  conciliate.  For 
this  purpose,  the  freer  it  is,  the  better  it  is. 
That  very  peculiarity  which  so  many  dread 
as  the  germ  of  Antinomianism,  is,  in  fact, 
the  germ  of  a  new  spirit,  and  a  new  inclina- 
tion against  it.  Along  with  the  light  of  a 
free  Gospel,  does  there  enter  the  love  of  the 
Gospel,  which  in  proportion  as  you  impair 
the  freeness,  you  are  sure  to  chase  away. 
And  never  does  the  sinner  find  within  him- 
self so  mighty  a  moral  transformation,  as  % 
when  under  the  belief  that  he  is  saved  by 
grace,  he  feels  constrained  thereby  to  offer 
his  heart  a  devoted  thing,  and  to  deny  un- 
godliness. 

To  do  any  work  in  the  best  manner,  you 
would  make  use  of  the  fittest  tools  for  it. 
And  we  trust,  that  what  has  been  said  may 
serve  in  some  degree,  for  the  practical 
guidance  of  those  who  would  like  to  reach 
the  great  moral  achievement  of  our  text — 
but  feel  that  the  tendencies  and  desires  of 
Nature  are  too  strong  for  them.  We  know 
of  no  other  way  by  which  to  keep  the  love 
of  the  world  out  of  our  heart,  than  to  k<  i  sp 
in  our  hearts  the  love  of  God — and  no  othei 
way  by  which  to  keep  our  hearts  in  the 
love  of  God,  than  building  ourselves  up  on 
our  most  holy  faith.  That  denial  of  the 
world  which  is  not  possible  to  him  that  dis- 
sents from  the  Gospel  testimony,  is  possible, 
even  as  all  things  are  possible  to  him  that 
believeth.  To  try  this  without  faith,  is  to 
work  without  the  right  tool  or  the  right  in- 
strument. But  faith  worketh  by  love;  and 
the  way  of  expelling  from  the  heart  the 
love  that  transgresseth  the  law,  is  to  adinii 
into  its  receptacles  the  love  which  fulfilleth 
the  law. 

Conceive  a  man  to  be  standing  on  the 
margin  of  this  green  world  ;  and  that,  when 
he  looked  towards  it,  he  saw  abundance 
smiling  upon  every  field,  and  all  the  bless- 
ings which,  earth  can  afford,  scattered  in 
profusion  throughout  every  family,  and  the 
light  of  the  sun  sweetly  resting  upon  all  the 


278 


THE  SURE  WARRANT  OF  A  BELIEVER'S  HOPE. 


[SERM. 


pleasant  habitations,  and  the  joys  of  human 
companionship  brightening  many  a  happy 
circle  of  society — conceive  this  to  be  the 
general  character  of  the  scene  upon  one 
side  of  his  contemplation ;  and  that  on  the 
other,  beyond  the  verge  of  the  goodly 
planet  on  which  he  was  situated,  he  could 
descry  nothing  but  a  dark  and  fathomless 
unknown.  Think  you  that  he  would  bid  a 
voluntary  adieu  to  all  the  brightness  and 
all  the  beauty  that  were  before  him  upon 
earth,  and  commit  himself  to  the  frightful 
solitude  away  from  it.  Would  he  leave  its 
peopled  dwelling  places,  and  become  a  soli- 
tary wanderer  through  the  fields  of  non- 
entity 7  If  space  offered  him  nothing  but  a 
wilderness,  would  he  for  it  abandon  the 
homebred  scenes  of  life  and  of  cheerfulness 
that  lay  so  near,  and  exerted  such  a  power 
of  urgency  to  detain  him  ?  Would  not  he 
cling  to  the  regions  of  sense,  and  of  life,  and 
of  society? — and  shrinking  away  from  the 
desolation  that  was  beyond  it,  would  not  he 
be  glad  to  keep  his  firm  footing  on  the  ter- 
ritory of  this  world,  and  to  take  shelter  under 
the  silver  canopy  that  was  stretched  over  it  ? 
But  if,  during  the  time  of  his  contempla- 
tion, some  happy  island  of  the  blest  had 
floated  by ;  and  there  had  burst  upon  his 
senses  the  light  of  its  surpassing  glories,  and 


its  sounds  of  sweeter  melody ;  and  he  clearly 
saw,  that  there,  a  purer  beauty  rested  upon 
every  field,  and  a  more  heart-felt  joy  spread 
itself  among  all  the  families ;  and  he  could 
discern  there  a  peace,  and  a  piety,  and  a 
benevolence,  which  put  a  moral  gladness 
into  every  bosom,  and  united  the  whole  so- 
ciety in  one  rejoicing  sympathy  with  each 
other,  and  with  the  beneficent  Father  of 
them  all. — Could  he  further  see,  that  pain 
and  mortality  were  there  unknown ;  and 
above  all,  that  signals  of  welcome  were 
hung  out,  and  an  avenue  of  communication 
was  made  for  him — perceive  you  not,  that 
what  was  before  the  wilderness,  would  be- 
come the  land  of  invitation  ;  and  that  now 
the  world  would  be  the  wilderness  ?  What 
unpeopled  space  could  not  do,  can  be  done 
by  space  teeming  with  beatific  scenes,  and 
beatific  society.  And  let  the  existing  ten- 
dencies of  the  heart  be  what  they  may  to 
the  scene  that  is  near  and  visible  around  us, 
still  if  another  stood  revealed  to  the  pros- 
pect of  man,  either  through  the  channel  of 
faith,  or  through  the  channel  of  his  senses — 
then,  without  violence  done  to  the  consti- 
tution of  his  moral  nature,  may  he  die  unto 
the  present  world,  and  live  to  the  lovelier 
world  that  stands  in  the  distance  away 
from  it. 


SERMON  III. 


The  sure  Warrant  of  a  Believer's  Hope. 


**  For  if,  when  we  were  enemies  we  were  reconciled  to  God  by  the  death  of  his  Son  :  much  more, 
reconciled,  we  shall  be  saved  by  his  life." — Romans  v.  10. 


St.  Paul,  who,  by  the  way,  is  by  far  the 
most  argumentative  of  all  the  Apostles — 
and  who,  from  being  the  most  successful  of 
them  all,  proves  that  argument  is  both  a 
legitimate  and  a  powerful  weapon  in  the 
work  of  making  Christians,  sometimes  un- 
dertakes to  reason  upon  one  set  of  premises, 
end  then  to  demonstrate  how  much  more 
valid  and  irresistible  is  the  conclusion  which 
he  tries  to  establish,  when  he  is  in  actual 
possession  of  another  and  more  favourable 
set  of  premises.  In  this  way  a  great  addi- 
tional strength  is  made  to  accrue  to  his  ar- 
gument— and  the  how  much  more  with 
which  he  finishes,  causes  it  to  come  with 
greater  power  and  assurance  upon  his  rea- 
ders— and  it  is  this  which  gives  him  the 
advantage  of  what  is  well  known,  both  in 
law  and  in  logic,  under  the  phrase  of  argn- 
mentum  a  fortiore,  or,  an  argument  which 
affirms  a  thing  to  be  true  in  adverse  and 
unpromising  circumstances,  and  therefore 
far  more  worthy  of  being  held  true  in  like- 
lier circumstances.     It  is  quite  a  familiar 


mode  of  reasoning  in  common  discourse. 
If  a  neighbour  be  bound  to  sympathise  with 
the  distresses  of  an  unfortunate  family,  how 
much  more,  when  that  neighbour  is  a  re- 
lative? If  I  obtained  an  offer  of  friendship 
from  a  man  in  difficulties,  how  much  more 
may  I  count  upon  it  should  he  now  be 
translated  into  a  state  of  sufficiency  and 
ease  ?  If,  in  the  very  heat  of  our  quarrel, 
and  under  the  discouragement  of  all  my  pro- 
voking insolence  towards  him,  my  enemy 
forbear  the  vengeance  which  he  had  the 
power  to  inflict,  how  much  more,  should 
the  quarrel  be  made  up,  and  I  have  been 
long  in  terms  of  reconciliation  with  him, 
may  I  feel  myself  secure  from  the  effects 
of  his  indignation?  Such  also  is  the  argu- 
ment of  my  text.  There  is  one  state  of  mat- 
ters in  which  God  sets  forth  a  demonstra- 
tion of  friendship  to  the  world,  and  this  is 
compared  with  the  present  and  actual  state 
of  matters,  more  favourable  than  the  former, 
and  from  which,  therefore,  the  friendship 
of  God  may  be  still  more  surely  inferred, 


HI.  J 


THE  SURE  WARRANT  OF  A  BELIEVER'S  HOPE. 


279 


and  still  more  firmly  confided  in.  But  it 
will  be  further  seen,  that  in  this  short  sen- 
tence of  the  Apostle,  there  lies  a  compound 
argument  which  admits  of  being  separated 
into  distinct  parts.  There  is  a  reference 
made  to  a  two- fold  state  of  matters,  which, 
by  being  resolved  into  its  two  particulars, 
brings  out  two  accessions  of  strength  to  the 
conclusion  of  our  Apostle,  which  are  inde- 
pendent of  each  other.  He,  in  fact,  holds 
forth  a  double  claim  upon  our  understand- 
ing, and  we  propose  to  view  successively 
the  two  particulars  of  which  it  is  made  up. 

There  is  first,  then,  a  comparison  made 
between  one  state  of  matters,  and  another 
state  of  matters  which  obtain  in  our  earth — 
and  there  is  at  the  same  time  a  comparison 
made  between  one  state  of  matters,  and 
another  state  of  matters  which  obtain  in 
heaven — and  from  each  of  these  there  may 
be  educed  an  argument  for  strengthening 
the  assurance  of  every  Christian,  in  that 
salvation  which  the  Gospel  has  made  known 
to  us. 

Let  us  first  look,  then,  to  the  two  states 
upon  earth — and  this  may  be  done  either 
with  a  reference  to  this  world's  history,  or 
it  may  be  done  with  a  reference  to  the  per- 
sonal history  of  every  one  man  who  is  now 
a  believer. 

That  point  of  time  in  the  series  of  ge- 
neral history  at  which  reconciliation  was 
made,  was  when  our  Saviour  said  that  it  is 
finished,  and  save  up  the  ghost.  God  may 
be  said  to  have  then  become  reconciled  to 
the  world,  in  as  far  as  he  was  ready  to  enter 
into  agreement  with  all  who  drew  nigh  in 
the  name  of  this  great  propitiation.  Now 
think  of  the  slate  of  matters  upon  earth, 
previous  to  the  tune  when  reconciliation  in 
this  view  was  entered  upon.  Think  of  the 
a  of  that  moving  principle  in  the 
>osom  of  the  Deity,  which  so  inclined  him 
towards  a  world  then  lying  in  the  depths  of 
ungo  lliness — and  from  one  end  to  another 
of  it,  lifting  the  cry  of  rebellion  against  him. 
There  was  no  movement  on  the  part  of  the 
world  towards  God — no  returning  sense  of 
ll>  dance  towards  him  from  whom  they 
had  revolted  so  deeply— no  abatement  of 
that  profligacy  which  so  noted  at  large  over 
a  wid  lawless,  and  thankless,  and 

>arel<  ss  abandonment — no  mitigation  of  that 
foul  and  an  lacious  insolence  by  which  the 
throne  of  hi  aven  was  assailed  ;  and  a  spec- 
.  full  of  offence  to  the  unfallen  was 
held  forth,  of  a  whole  province  in  arms 
against  the  lawful  Monarch  of  creation. 
Had  the  world  thrown  down  its  weapons 
of  disobedienc  -had  a  contrite  and  relent- 
ing spirit  gone  previously  forth  among  its 
generations  -had  the  light  which  even  then 
glimmered  in  the  veriest  wilds  of  Pagan- 
ism, just  up  to  the  strength  and  degree  of 
its  influence,  told  aright  on  the  moral 
sensibilities  of  the  deluded  and  licentious 


worshippers — had  they,  whose  conscience 
was  a  law  unto  themselves,  just  acted  and 
followed  on  as  they  might  under  the  guid- 
ance of  its  compunctious  visitations — had 
there  been  any  thing  like  the  forth-going 
of  a  general  desire,  however  faint,  towards 
that  unknown  Being,  the  sense  and  impres- 
sion of  whom  were  never  wholly  oolite- 
rated — then  it  might  have  been  less  decisive 
of  God's  will  for  reconciliation,  that  he  gave 
way  to  these  returning  demonstrations  on 
the  part  of  his  alienated  creatures,  and 
reared  a  pathway  of  communication  by 
which  sinners  may  draw  nigh  unto  God. 
But  for  God  to  have  done  this  very  thing, 
when  these  sinners  were  persisting  in  the 
full  spirit  and  determination  of  their  unholy 
warfare — for  him  to  have  done  so,  when  in- 
stead of  any  returning  loyalty  rising  up  to 
him  like  the  incense  of  a  sweet-smelling 
savour,  the  exhalations  of  idolatry  and  vice 
blackened  the  whole  canopy  of  heaven, 
and  ascended  in  a  smoke  of  abomination 
before  him — for  him  to  have  done  so  at  the 
very  time  that  all  flesh  had  corrupted  its 
ways,  and  when  either  with  or  without  the 
law  of  revelation,  God  saw  that  the  wicked- 
ness of  man  was  great  in  the  earth,  and  that 
every  imagination  of  the  thoughts  of  his 
heart  was  only  evil  continually — in  these 
circumstances  of  deep  and  unalleviated  pro- 
vocation, and  when  God  may  have  eased 
him  of  his  adversaries,  by  sweeping  the 
whole  of  this  moral  nuisance  away  from 
the  face  of  the  universe  which  it  deformed — 
for  such  a  time  to  have  been  a  time  of  love, 
when  majesty  seemed  to  call  for  some  so- 
lemn vindication,  but  mercy  could  not  let 
us  go — surely,  if  through  such  a  barrier  be- 
tween God  and  the  guilty,  he,  in  the  long- 
ings of  his  desire  after  them,  forced  a  path- 
way of  reconciliation,  he  never  will  turn 
himself  away  from  any,  who,  cheered  for- 
ward by  his  own  intreaties,  are  walking 
upon  that  path.  But  if,  when  enemies,  he 
himself  found  out  an  approach  by  which 
he  might  beckon  them  to  enter  into  peace 
with  him,  how  much  more  when  they  are 
so  approaching,  will  he  meet  them  with  the 
light  of  his  countenance,  and  bless  them 
with  the  joys  of  his  salvation. 

But  this  argument  may  be  looked  to  in 
another  way.  Instead  oJ  fixing  our  regards 
upon  that  point  in  the  general  history  of  the 
world,  when  the  avenue  was  struck  out  be- 
tween our  species  and  their  offended  Law- 
giver; and  through  the  rent  vail  of  a  Sa- 
viour's flesh,  a  free  and  consecrated  way  of 
access  was  opened  for  the  guiltiest  of  them 
all — let  a  believer  in  Christ  fix  his  regards 
Upon  that  inissa^e  in  his  own  personal  his- 
tory at  which  he  was  drawn  in  his  desires 
and  in  his  confidence  to  this  great  Mediator, 
and  entered  upon  the  grace  wherein  he  now 
stands,  and  gave  up  his  evil  heart  of  unbe- 
lief, and  made  his  transition  out  of  dark 


280 


THE  SURE  WARRANT  OF  A  BELIEVER'S  HOPE. 


[SERM. 


ness  to  the  marvellous  light  of  the  Gospel. 
Let  him  compare  what  he  was,  when  an 
alien  from  God,  through  wicked  works  of 
his  own,  with  what  he  is  when  a  humble 
but  confiding  expectant  of  God's  mercy 
through  the  righteousness  of  another.  Who 
translated  him  into  the  condition  which  he 
now  occupies  ?  Who  put  into  his  heart  the 
faith  of  the  Gospel  ?  Who  awakened  him 
from  the  dormancy  and  unconcern  of  na- 
ture 1  Who  stirred  up  that  restless  but  salu- 
tary alarm  which  at  length  issued  in  the 
secure  feeling  of  reconciliation  1  There  was 
a  time  of  his  past  life  when  the  whole  doc- 
trine of  salvation  was  an  offence  to  him, 
when  its  preaching  was  foolishness  to  his 
ears ;  when  its  phraseology  tired  and  dis- 
gusted him ;  when,  in  light  and  lawless 
companionship,  he  put  the  warnings  of  reli- 
gious counsel,  and  the  urgency  of  menacing 
sermons  away  from  his  bosom — a  time  when 
the  world  was  his  all,  and  when  he  was 
wholly  given  over  to  the  idolatry  of  its 
pursuits,  and  pleasures,  and  projects  of  ag- 
grandizement— a  time  when  his  heart  was 
unvisited  with  any  permanent  seriousness 
about  God,  of  whom  his  conscience  some- 
times reminded  him,  but  whom  he  soon 
dismissed  from  his  earnest  contemplation — 
a  time  when  he  may  have  occasionally 
heard  of  a  judgment,  but  without  one  prac- 
tical movement  of  his  soul  towards  the  task 
of  preparation — a  time  when  the  overtures 
of  peace  met  him  on  his  way,  but  which 
he,  in  the  impetuous  prosecution  of  his  own 
objects,  utterly  disregarded — a  time  when 
death  plied  him  with  its  ever-recurring  me- 
mentoes, but  which  he,  overlooking  the 
short  and  summary  arithmetic  of  the  few 
little  years  that  lay  between  him  and  the 
last  messenger,  placed  so  far  on  the  back- 
ground of  his  anticipation,  that  this  earth, 
this  passing  and  perishable  earth,  formed 
the  scene  of  all  his  solicitudes.  Is  there 
none  here  present  who  remembers  such  a 
time  of  his  by-gone  history,  and  with  such 
a  character  of  alienation  from  God  and  from 
his  Christ,  as  1  have  now  given  to  it  ?  And 
who,  I  ask,  recalled  him  from  this  aliena- 
tion ?  By  whose  guidance  was  he  con- 
ducted to  that  demonstration  either  of  the 
press  or  of  the  pulpit,  which  awakened  him? 
Who  sent  that  afflictive  visitation  to  his 
door,  which  weaned  his  spirit  from  the 
world,  and  wooed  it  to  the  deathless  friend- 
ships, and  the  ever-during  felicities  of  hea- 
ven ?  Who  made  known  to  him  the  extent 
of  his  guilt,  with  the  overpassing  extent  of 
the  redemption  that  is  provided  for  it  ?  It 
was  not  he  himself  who  originated  the  pro- 
cess of  his  own  salvation.  God  may  have 
abandoned  him  to  his  own  courses;  and 
said  of  him  as  he  has  done  of  many  others, 
"  I  will  let  him  alone,  since  he  will  have  it 
so ;"  and  given  him  up  to  that  judicial  blind 
ness,  under  which  the  vast  majority  of  the 


world  are  now  sleeping  in  profoundest  leth- 
argy; and  withheld  altogether  that  light  of 
the  spirit  which  he  had  done  so  much  to 
extinguish.  But  if,  instead  of  all  this,  God 
kept  by  him  in  the  midst  of  his  thankless 
provocations — and  while  he  was  yet  a  re- 
gardless enemy,  made  his  designs  of  grace 
to  bear  upon  him — and  throughout  all  the 
mazes  of  his  chequered  history,  conducted 
him  to  the  knowledge  of  himself  as  a  recon- 
ciling God — and  so  softened  his  heart  with 
family  bereavements,  or  so  tore  it  from  all 
its  worldly  dependencies  by  the  disasters  of 
business,  or  so  shook  it  with  frightful  agi- 
tation by  the  terrors  of  the  law,  or  so  shone 
upon  it  with  the  light  of  his  free  Spirit,  as 
made  it  glad  to  escape  from  the  treachery 
of  nature's  joys  and  nature's  promises,  into 
a  relying  faith  on  the  offers  and  assurances 
of  the  Gospel — why,  just  let  him  think  of 
the  time  when  God  did  so  much  for  him — 
and  then  think  of  the  impossibility  that  God 
will  recede  from  him  now,  or  that  he  will 
cease  from  the  prosecution  of  that  work  in 
circumstances  of  earnest  and  desirous  con- 
currence on  the  part  of  the  believer,  which  he 
himself  begun  in  the  circumstances  either 
of  his  torpid  unconcern,  or  of  his  active  and 
haughty  defiance.  The  God  who  moved 
towards  him  in  his  days  of  forgetfulness, 
will  not  move  away  from  him  in  his  days 
of  hourly  and  habitual  remembrance — and 
he  who  intercepted  him  in  his  career  of  re- 
bellion, will  not  withdraw  from  him  in  his 
career  of  new  obedience — and  he  who  first 
knocked  at  the  door  of  his  conscience,  and 
that  too  in  a  prayerless,  and  thankless,  and 
regardless  season  of  his  history,  will  not, 
now  that  he  prays  in  the  name  of  Christ, 
and  now  that  his  heart  is  set  upon  salva- 
tion, and  now  that  the  doctrine  of  grace 
forms  all  his  joy  and  all  his  dependence; 
he  Avho  thus  found  him  out  a  distant  and 
exiled  rebel,  will  not  abandon  him  how  that 
his  fellowship  is  with  the  Father,  and  with 
the  Son.  It  is  thus  that  the  believer  may 
shield  his  misgiving  heart  from  all  its  des- 
pondencies. It  is  thus  that  the  argument  of 
the  text  goes  to  fortify  his  faith,  and  to  per- 
fect that  which  is  lacking  in  it.  It  is  thus 
that  the  how  much  more  of  the  Apostles 
should  cause  him  to  abound  more  and  more 
in  the  peace  and  the  joy  of  believing — and 
should  encourage  every  man  who  has  laid 
hold  on  the  hope  set  before  us,  to  steady 
and  confirm  his  hold  still  more  tenaciously 
than  before,  so  as  to  keep  it  fast  and  sure 
even  unto  the  end. 

With  a  man  who  knows  himself  to  be  a 
believer,  this  argument  is  quite  irresistible, 
and  it  will  go  to  establish  his  faith,  and  to 
strengthen  it,  and  to  settle  it,  and  to  make 
it  perfect.  But  it  is  possible  for  a  man  really 
to  believe,  and  yet  to  be  in  ignorance  for  a 
time  whether  he  does  so  or  not — and  it  is 
possible  for  a  man  to  be  in  earnest  about 


.11.1 


THE  SURE  WARRANT  OF  A   BELIEVER'S  HOPE. 


281 


his  soul,  and  yet  not  to  have  received  that 
truth  which  is  unto  salvation — and  it  is  pos- 
sible for  him  to  be  actuated  by  a  strong 
general  desire  to  be  right,  and  yet  to  be 
walking  among  the  elements  of  uncertain- 
ty— and  it  is  possible  for  him  to  be  looking 
to  that  quarter  whence  the  truths  of  the 
Gospel  are  offered  to  his  contemplation,  and 
yet  not  to  have  attained  the  distinct  or  satis- 
fying perception  of  them — thoroughly  en- 
gaged in  the  prosecution  of  his  peace  with 
God,  determinedly  bent  on  this  object  as  the 
highest  interest  he  can  possibly  aspire  after, 
labouring  after  a  settlement,  and,  under  all 
the  agonies  of  a  fierce  internal  war,  seeking, 
and  toiling,  and  praying  for  his  deliverance. 
It  is  at  the  point  of  time  when  faith  en- 
ters the  heart,  that  reconciliation  is  entered 
upon — nor  can  we  say  of  this  man,  that  he 
is  yet  a  believer,  or,  that  he  has  passed  from 
the  condition  of  an  enemy  to  that  of  a  friend. 
And  yet  upon  him  the  argument  of  the  text 
should  not  be  without  its  efficacy.     It  is 
such  an  argument  as  may  be  employed  not 
merely  to  confirm  the  faith  which  already 
exists,  but  to  help  on  to  its  formation  that 
faith  which  is  struggling  for  an  establish- 
ment in  the  heart  of  an  inquirer.     It  falls, 
no  doubt,  with  fullest  and  most  satisfying 
light  upon   the  heart  of  a  conscious  be- 
liever— and  yet  may  it  be  addressed,  and 
with  pertinency  too,  to  men  under  their  first 
and  earliest  visitations  of  seriousness.    For 
give  me  an  acquaintance  of  whom  I  know 
nothing  more  than  that  his  face  is  towards 
Zion — give  me  one  arrested  by  a  sense  of 
guilt  and  of  danger,  and  merely  groping 
his  way  to  a  place  of  enlargement — give 
me  a  soul  not  in  peace,  but  in  perplexity, 
and  in  the  midst  of  all  those  initial  difficul- 
ties which  beset  the  awakened  sinner,  ere 
Christ  shall  give  him  light — give  me  a  la- 
bouring and    heavy   laden  sinner,  haunted 
by  the  reflection,  as  if  by  an  arrow  sticking 
fast,  that  the  mighty  question  of  his  eter- 
nity is  yet  unresolved.    There  are  many  I 
fear  amongst  you  to  whom  this  tremendous 
uncertainty  gives  no  concern — but  give  me 
one  who  has  newly  taken  it  up,  and  who, 
in  the  minglings  of  doubt  and  despondency, 
has  not  found  his  way  to  any  consolation — 
and  even  with  him  may  it  be  found,  that 
the  same  reason  which  strengthens  the  hope 
of  an  advanced  Christian,  may  well  inspire 
the  hope  of  him  who  has  still  his  Christian- 
ity to  find,  and  thus  cast  a  cheering  and  a 
comforting  influence  on  the  very  infancy  of 
his  progress.     For  if  it  was  in  behalf  of  a 
careless  world  that  the  costly  apparatus  of 
redemption  was  reared— if  it  was  in  the 
lull  front  and  audacity  of  their  most  deter- 
mined rebellion,  that  God  laid  the  plan  of 
reconciliation — if  it  was  for  the  sake  of  men 
sunk  in  the  very  depths  of  ungodliness,  that 
he  constructed  li is  overtures  of  peace,  and 
sent  forth  his  Son  with  them  amongst  our 
36 


loathsome  and  polluted  dwelling-places — if 
to  get  at  his  strayed  children,  he  had  thus 
to  find  his  way  through  all  those  elements 
of  impiety  and  ungodliness,  which  are  most 
abhorrent  to  the  sanctity  of  his  nature,  think 
you,  my  brethren,  think  you  that  the  God 
who  made  such  an  advancing  movement 
towards  the  men  whose  faces  were  utterly 
away  from  him — is  this  a  God  who  will 
turn  his  own  face  away  from  the  man  who 
is  moving  towards  God,  and  earnestly  seek- 
ing after  him,  if  haply  lie  may  find  him? 

This  argument  obtains  great  additional 
force,  when  we  look  to  the  state  of  matters 
in  heaven  at  the  time  that  we  upon  earth 
were  enemies,  and  compare  it  with  the  state 
of  matters  in  heaven,  now  that  we  are  ac- 
tually reconciled,  or  are  beginning  to  enter- 
tain the  offers  of  reconciliation.    Before  the 
work  of  our  redemption,  Jesus  Christ  was 
in  primeval  glory — and  though  a  place  of 
mystery  to  us,  it  was  a  place  of  secure  and 
ineffable  enjoyment — insomuch,   that    the 
fondest  prayer  he  could  utter  in  the  depths 
of  his  humiliation,  was  to  be  taken  back 
again  to  the  ancient  of  days,  and  there  to  be 
restored  to  the  glory  which  he  had  with 
him  before  the  world  was.    It  was  from  the 
heights  of  celestial  security  and  blessedness 
that  he  looked  with  an  eye  of  pity  on  our 
sinful  habitation — it  was  from  a  scene  where 
beings  of  a  holy  nature  surrounded  him. 
and  the  full  homage  of  the  Divinity  was 
rendered  to  him,  and  in  the  ecstacies  of  his 
fellowship   with  God  the  P'ather,  all  was 
peace,  and  purity,  and  excellence — it  was 
from  this  that  he  took  his  voluntary  depar- 
ture, and  went  out  on  his  errand  to  seek 
and  to  save  us.     And  it  was  not  the  parade 
of  an  unreal  suffering  that  he  had  to  en- 
counter; but  a  deep  and  a  dreadful  endur- 
ance— it  was  not  a  triumphant  promenade 
through  this  lower  world,  made  easy  over 
all  its  obstacles  by  the  energies  of  his  God- 
head ;  but  a  conflict  of  toil  and  of  strenuous- 
ness — it  was  not  an  egress  from  heaven  on 
a  journey  brightened  through  all  its  stages 
by  the  hope  of  a  smooth  and  gentle  return; 
but  it  was  such  an  exile  from  heaven  as 
made  his  ascent  and  his  readmittance  there 
the  fruit  of  a  hard  won  victory.     We  have 
nothing  but  the  facts  of  revelation  to  guide 
or  to  inform  us,  and  yet  from  these  we  most 
assuredly  gather,  that  the  Saviour,  in  step- 
ping down  from  the  elevation  of  his  past 
eternity,  incurred  a  substantial  degradation 
— that  when  he  wrapped  himself  in  the  hu- 
manity of  our  nature,  he  put  on  the  whole 
of  its  infirmities  and  its  sorrows — that  for 
the  joy  which  lie   renounced,  lie  became 
acquainted   with   grief,  and  a  grief,  too, 
commensurate  to  the  whole  burden  of  our 
world's  atonement — that  the  hidings  of  his 
Father's  countenance  were  terrifying  to  his 
soul — and  when  the  offended  justice  of  the 
Godhead  was  laid  upon  his  person,  it  re- 


282 


THE  SURE  WARRANT  OF  A  BELIEVER'S  HOPE. 


[SERM. 


quired  the  whole  strength  of  the  Godhead 
to  sustain  it.  What  mean  the  agonies  of  the 
garden?  What  mean  the  bitter  cries  and 
complainings  of  abandonment  upon  the 
cross?  What  meaneth  the  prayer  that  the 
cup  might  pass  away  from  him,  and  the 
struggle  of  a  lofty  resolution  with  the  ago- 
nies of  a  mighty  and  unknown  distress,  and 
the  evident  symptoms  of  a  great  and  toil- 
some achievement  throughout  the  whole 
progress  of  this  undertaking,  and  angels 
looking  down  from  their  eminences,  as  on 
a  field  of  contest  where  a  great  Captain  had 
to  put  forth  the  travailing  of  his  strength, 
and  to  spoil  principalities  and  powers,  and 
to  make  a  show  of  them  openly  ?  Was  there 
nothing  in  all  this,  do  you  think,  but  the 
mockery  of  a  humiliation  that  was  never 
felt — the  mockery  of  a  pain  that  was  never 
suffered — the  mockery  of  a  battle  that  was 
never  fought?  No,  my  brethren,  be  assured 
that  there  was,  on  that  day,  a  real  vindica- 
tion of  God's  insulted  majesty.  On  that  day 
there  was  the  real  transference  of  an  aveng- 
ing hand,  from  the  heads  of  the  guilty  to  the 
head  of  the  innocent.  On  that  day  one  man 
died  for  the  people,  and  there  was  an  actual 
laying  on  of  the  iniquities  of  us  all.  It  was 
a  war  of  strength  and  of  suffering  in  highest 
possible  aggravation  because  the  war  of  ele- 
ments which  were  infinite.  The  wrath 
which  millions  should  have  borne,  was  all 
of  it  discharged.  Nor  do  we  estimate  aright 
what  we  owe  of  love  and  obligation  to  the 
Saviour,  till  we  believe,  that  the  whole  of 
that  fury,  which  if  poured  out  upon  the 
world,  would  have  served  its  guilty  genera- 
tions through  eternity — that  all  of  it  was 
poured  into  the  cup  of  expiation. 

A  more  adequate  sense  of  this  might  not 
only  serve  to  awaken  the  gratitude  which 
slumbers  within  us,  and  is  dead — it  might 
also,  through  the  aid  of  the  argument  in  my 
text,  awaken  and  assure  our  confidence.  If 
when  we  were  enemies,  Christ  ventured  on 
an  enterprise  so  painful — if,  when  loathsome 
outcasts  from  the  sacred  territory  of  hea- 
ven, he  left  the  abode  of  his  Father,  and 
exchanged  love,  and  adoration,  and  con- 
genial felicity  among  angels,  for  the  hatred 
and  persecution  of  men — if,  when  the  ago- 
nies of  the  coming  vengeance  were  still  be- 
fore him,  and  the  dark  and  dreary  vale  of 
suffering  had  yet  to  be  entered  upon,  and  he 
had  to  pass  under  the  inflictions  of  that 
sword  which  the  eternal  God  awakened 
against  his  Fellow,  and  he  had  still  to  give 
himself  up  to  a  death  equivalent  in  the 
amount  of  its  soreness  to  the  devouring  fire, 
and  the  everlasting  burnings,  which  but  for 
him  believers  would  have  borne — if,  when 
all  this  had  yet  to  be  travelled  through,  he 
nevertheless,  in  his  compassionate  longing 
for  the  souls  of  men,  went  forth  upon  the 
errand  of  winning  them  to  himself, — let  us 
just  look  to  the  state  of  matters  in  heaven 


then,  and  compare  it  with  the  state  of  mat- 
ters now. 

Christ  has  there  ascended  on  the  wings 
of  victory — and  he  is  now  sitting  at  God's 
right  hand,  amid  all  the  purchased  triumphs 
of  his  obedience — and  the  toil,  and  the  con- 
flict, and  the  agony,  are  now  over — and 
from  that  throne  of  mediatorship  to  which 
he  has  been  exalted,  is  it  his  present  office 
to  welcome  the  approaches  of  all  who  come, 
and  to  save  to  the  uttermost  all  who  put 
their  trust  in  him.  And  is  it  possible,  we 
would  ask,  my  brethren,  is  it  possible  that 
he  who  died  to  atone,  now  that  he  lives, 
will  not  live  to  make  intercession  for  us? 
Can  the  love  for  men  which  bore  him 
through  a  mighty  and  a  painful  sacrifice, 
not  be  strong  enough  to  carry  him  onwards 
in  peace  and  in  triumph  to  its  final  consum- 
mation? Will  he  now  abandon  that  work 
which  his  own  hands  have  so  laboriously 
reared? — or  leave  the  cause  for  which  he 
has  already  sustained  the  weight  of  such  an 
endurance,  in  the  embryo  and  unfinished 
state  of  an  abortive  undertaking?  Will  he 
cast  away  from  him  the  spoils  of  that  vic- 
tory for  which  he  bled;  and  how  can  it  be 
imagined  for  a  moment,  but  by  such  dark 
and  misgiving  hearts  as  ours,  that  he  whose 
love  for  a  thankless  world  carried  him 
through  the  heat  and  the  severity  of  a  con- 
test that  is  now  ended,  will  ever,  with  the 
cold  and  forbidding  glance  of  an  altered 
countenance  spurn  an  inquiring  world  away 
from  him? 

The  death  of  a  crucified  Saviour,  when 
beheld  under  such  a  view,  is  the  firm  step- 
ping stone  to  confidence  in  a  risen  Saviour. 
You  may  learn  from  it  that  his  desire  and 
your  salvation  are  most  thoroughly  at  one. 
Of  his  good-will  to  have  you  into  heaven, 
he  has  given  the  strongest  pledge  and  de- 
monstration, by  consecrating,  with  his  own 
blood,  a  way  of  access,  through  which  sin- 
ners may  draw  nigh.  And  now,  that  as  our 
forerunner,  he  is  already  there — now  that 
he  has  gone  up  again  to  the  place  from 
which  he  arose — now  that  to  the  very  place 
which  he  left  to  die,  and  that,  that  the  bar- 
rier to  its  entrance  from  our  world  may  be 
moved  away,  he  has  ascended  alive  and  in 
glory,  without  another  death  to  endure,  for 
death  has  no  more  the  dominion  over  him — 
will  ever  he  do  any  thing  to  close  that  en- 
trance which  it  has  cost  him  so  much  to 
open?  Will  he  thus  throw  away  the  toil 
and  the  travail  of  his  own  soul,  and  reduce 
to  impotehcy  that  apparatus  of  reconcilia- 
tion which  he  himself  has  reared,  and  at  an 
expense,  too,  equal  to  the  penance  of  many 
millions  through  eternity?  What  he  died  to 
begin,  will  he  not  now  live  to  carry  for- 
ward; and  will  not  the  love  which  could 
force  a  way  through  the  grave  to  its  ac- 
complishments— now  that  it  has  reached 
the  summit  of  triumph  and  of  elevation 


III.] 


THE  SURE  WARRANT  OF  A  BELIEVER'S  HOPE. 


283 


which  he  at  present  occupies,  burst  forth 
and  around  the  held  of  that  mighty  enter- 
prise, which  was  begun  in  deepest  suffering, 
and  will  end  in  full  and  finished  glory? 

This  is  a  good  argument  in  all  the  stages 
of  a  man's  Christianity.  Whether  he  has 
found,  or  is  only  seeking — whether  he  be 
in  a  state  of  faith,  or  in  a  state  of  inquiry — 
whether  a  believer  like  Paul  and  many  of 
the  disciples  that  he  was  addressing,  or  an 
earnest  and  convinced  sinner  groping  the 
way  of  deliverance,  and  labouring  to  be  at 
rest,  there  may  be  made  to  emanate  from 
the  present  circumstances  of  our  Saviour, 
and  the  position  that  he  now  occupies,  an 
argument  either  to  perpetuate  the  confi- 
dence where  it  is,  or  to  inspire  it  where  it 
is  not.  If,  when  an  enemy,  I  was  reconciled, 
and  that  too  by  his  death — if  he  laid  down 
his  life  to  remove  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
my  salvation,  how  much  more,  now  that  he 
has  taken  it  up,  will  he  not  accomplish  that 
salvation?  It  is  just  fulfilling  his  own  desire. 
It  is  just  prospering  forward  the  very  cause 
that  his  heart  is  set  upon.  It  is  just  follow- 
ing out  the  facilities  which  he  himself  has 
opened — and  marching  onward  in  glorious 
procession,  to  the  consummation  of  those 
triumphs,  for  which  die  had  to  struggle  his 
way  through  a  season  of  difficulties  that  are 
now  over.  It  is  thus  that  the  believer  rea- 
sons himself  into  a  steadier  assurance  than 
before — and  peace  may  be  made  to  flow 
through  his  heart  like  a  mighty  river — and 
resting  on  the  foundation  of  Christ,  he 
comes  to  feel  himself  in  a  sure  and  wealthy 
place— and  the  good-will  of  the  Saviour 
rises  into  an  undoubted  axiom — so  as  to 
chase  away  all  his  distrust,  and  cause  him 
to  delight  himself  greatly  in  the  riches  of 
his  present  grace,  and  in  the  brightening 
certainty  of  his  coming  salvation. 

And  this  view  of  the  matter  is  not  only 
fitted  to  heighten  the  confidence  that  is  al- 
ready formed — but  also  to  originate  the  con- 
fidence that  needs  to  be  inspired.  It  places 
the  herald  of  salvation  on  a  secure  and  lofty 
vantage  ground.  It  seals  and  authenticates 
the  offer  with  which  he  is  intrusted — and 
with  which  he  may  go  round  among  the 
guiltiest  of  this  world's  population.  It  en- 
ables him  to  say,  that  for  guilt  even  in  the 
season  of  its  most  proud  and  unrepentant 
defiance,  did  Christ  give  himself  up  unto 
the  death — and  that  to  guilt  even  in  this 
state  of  hardihood,  Christ  in  prosecution  of 
his  own  work  has  commissioned  him  to  go 
with  the  overtures  of  purchased  mercy — 
and  should  the  guilt  which  has  stood  its 
ground  against  the  threatenings  of  power, 
feel  softened  and  arrested  by  pity's  prevent- 
ing call,  may  the  preacher  of  forgiveness 
affirm  in  his  Master's  name,  that  he,  who 
for  the  chief  of  sinners,  bowed  himself  down 
unto  the  sacrifice,  will  not  now,  that  he  has 
arisen  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour,  stamp  a  nul- 


lity upon  that  contest,  the  triumph  of  which 
is  awaiting  him  ;  but  the  bitterness  of  which 
has  passed  away.  He  will  not  turn  with 
indifference  and  distaste  from  that  very  fruit 
which  he  himself  has  fought  for.  But  if  for 
guilt  in  its  full  impenitency,  he  dyed  his 
garments,  and  waded  through  the  arena  of 
contest  and  of  blood — then  should  the  most 
abandoned  of  her  children  begin  a  contrite 
movement  towards  him,  it  is  not  he  who 
will  either  break  the  prop  for  which  he 
feels,  or  quench  his  infant  aspiration.  He 
will  look  to  him  as  the  travail  of  his  own 
soul,  and  in  him  he  will  be  satisfied. 

We  know  not  what  the  measure  of  the 
sinfulness  is  of  any  who  now  hear  us.  But 
we  know,  that  however  foul  his  depravity, 
and  however  deep  the  crimson  dye  of  his 
manifold  iniquities  may  be,  the  measure  of 
the  gospel  warrant  reaches  even  unto  him. 
It  was  to  make  an  inroad  on  the  territory 
of  Satan,  and  reclaim  from  it  a  kingdom 
unto  himself,  that  Christ  died — and  I  speak 
to  the  farthest  off  in  guilt  and  alienation 
amongst  you — take  the  overture  of  peace 
that  is  now  brought  to  your  door,  and  you 
will  add  to  that  kingdom  which  he  came  to 
establish,  and  take  away  from  that  king- 
dom which  he  came  to  destroy.  The  free- 
ness  of  this  Gospel  has  the  honour  of  him 
who  liveth  and  was  dead  for  its  guarantee. 
The  security  of  the  sinner  and  the  glory 
of  the  Saviour,  are  at  one.  And  with  the 
spirit  of  a  monarch  wdio  had  to  fight  his 
way  to  the  dominion  which  was  rightfully 
his  own,  will  he  hail  the  returning  alle- 
giance of  every  rebel,  as  a  new  accession  to 
his  triumphs,  as  another  trophy  to  the  might 
and  the  glory  of  his  great  undertaking. 

But,  amid  all  this  latitude  of  call  and  of 
invitation,  let  me  press  upon  you  that  alter- 
native character  of  the  Gospel,  to  which  1 
have  often  adverted.  I  have  tried  to  make 
known  to  you,  how  its  encouragements 
rise  the  one  above  the  other  to  him  who 
moves  towards  it.  But  it  has  its  correspond- 
ing terrors  and  severities,  which  also  rise 
the  one  above  the  other  to  him  who  moves 
away  from  it.  If  the  transgressor  will  not 
be  recalled  by  the  invitation  which  I  have 
now  made  known  to  him,  he  will  be  rivet- 
ted  thereby  into  deeper  and  more  hopeless 
condemnation.  If  the  offer  of  peace  be  not 
entertained  by  him,  then,  in  the  very  pro- 
portion of  its  largeness  and  generosity,  will 
the  provocation  be  of  his  insulting  treat- 
ment in  having  rejected  it.  Out  of  the 
mouth  of  the  Son  of  man  there  cometh  a 
two-edged  sword.  There  is  pardon  free  as 
the  light  of  heaven  to  all  who  will.  There 
is  wrath,  accumulated  and  irretrievable 
wrath,  to  all  who  will  not.  "Kiss  the  Son, 
therefore,  lest  he  be  angry,  and  ye  perish 
from  the  way  :  when  his  wrath  is  kindled 
but  a  little,  blessed  only  are  they  who  put 
their  trust  in  him." 


284 


THE  SURE  WARRANT  OF  A  BELIEVER'S  HOPE. 


[SERM. 


It  is  the  most  delusive  of  all  calculations 
to  put  off  the  acceptance  of  the  Gospel,  be- 
cause of  its  freeness — and  because  it  is  free 
at  all  times — and  because  the  present  you 
think  may  be  the  time  of  your  unconcern 
and  liberty,  and  some  distant  future  be  the 
time  of   your  return  through   that    door 
which  will  still  be  open  for  you.   The  door 
of  Christ's  Mediatorship  is  ever  open,  till 
death  puts  its  unchangeable  seal  upon  your 
eternity.     But  the  door  of  your  own  heart, 
if  you  are   not  receiving  him,  is  shut  at 
this  moment,   and  every  day  is  it  fixing 
and  fastening  more  closely — and  long  ere 
death  summon  you  away,  may  it  at  length 
settle  immoveably  upon  its  hinges,  and  the 
voice  of  him  who  standeth  without,  and 
knocketh,  may  be  unheard  by  the  spiritual 
ear — and,  therefore,  you  are  not  made  to 
feel  too  much,  though  you  feel  as  earnestly 
as  if  now  or  never  was  the  alternative  on 
which   you    were    suspended.     It  is    not 
enough,  that  the  Word  of  God,  compared 
to  a  hammer,  be  weighty  and  powerful. 
The  material  on  which  it  works  must  be 
capable  of  an  impression.   It  is  not  enough, 
that  there  be  a  free  and  forcible  applica- 
tion.    There  must   be   a   willing  subject. 
You  are  unwilling  now,  and  therefore  it  is 
that  conversion  does  not  follow.     To-mor- 
row the  probability  is,  that  you  will  be  still 
more  unwilling — and,  therefore,  though  the 
application  be  the  same,  the  conversion  is 
still  at  a  greater  distance  away  from  you. 
And  thus,  while  the  application  continues 
the  same,  the  subject  hardens,  and  a  good 
result  is  ever  becoming  more   and    more 
unlikely — and  thus  may  it  go  on  till  you 
arrive  upon  the  bed  of  your  last  sickness, 
at  the  confines   of  eternity — and  what,  I 
would  ask,  is  the  kind  of  willingness  that 
comes  upon  you  then?    Willing  to  escape 
the  pain  of  hell — this  you  are  now,  but  yet 
not  willing  to  be  a  Christian.    Willing  that 
the   fire  and    your    bodily  sensations    be 
kept  at  a  distance  from  each  other — this 
you  are  now,  for  who  of  you  at  present, 
would  thrust  his  hand  among  the  flames  ? 
Willing  that  the  frame  of  your  animal  sen- 
sibilities shall  meet  with  nothing  to  wound 
or  torture  it — this  is  willingness  of  which 
the  lower  animals,  incapable  of  religion, 
are  yet  as  capable  as  yourself.     You  will 
be   as  willing  then  for  deliverance  from 
material  torments  as  you  can  be  now — but 
there  is  a  willingness  which  you  want  now, 
and  which,  in  all  likelihood,  will  then  be 
still  more  beyond  the  reach  of  your  attain- 
ment.    If  the  free  Gospel  do  not  meet  with 
your  willingness  now  to  accept  and  sub- 
mit to  it,  neither  may  it  then.    And  I  know 
not,  my  brethren,  what  has  been  your  ex- 
perience in  death-beds,  but  sure  I  am,  that 
both  among  the  agonies  of  mortal  disease, 
and   the   terrors   of  the  malefactor's  cell, 
Christ  may  be  offered,  and  the  offer  be 


sadly  and  sullenly  put  away.  The  free 
proclamation  is  heard  without  one  accom- 
panying charm — and  the  man  who  refused 
to  lay  hold  of  it  through  life,  finds,  that  in 
the  impotency  of  his  expiring  grasp,  he 
cannot  apprehend  it.  And  O,  if  you  but 
knew  how  often  the  word  of  faith  may  fall 
from  the  minister,  and  the  work  of  faith  be 
left  undone  upon  the  dying  man,  never 
would  you  so  postpone  the  purposes  of  se- 
riousness, or  look  forward  to  the  last  week 
of  your  abode  upon  earth  as  to  the  conve- 
nient season  for  winding  up  the  concerns 
of  a  neglected  eternity. 

If  you  look  attentively  to  the  text,  you 
will  find  that  there  is  something  more  than 
a  shade  of  difference  between  being  recon- 
ciled and  being  saved.     Reconciliation  is 
spoken  of   as  an   event  that  has  already 
happened — salvation  as  an  event  that  is  to 
come.     The  one   event  may  lead   to  the 
other;  but  there  is  a  real  distinction  be- 
tween them.     It  is  true,  that  the  salvation 
instanced  in  the  preceding  verse,  is  salva- 
vation  from  wrath.     But   it  is  the  wrath 
which  is  incurred  by  those  who  have  sin- 
ned wilfully,  after  they  had  come  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  truth—"  when  there  re- 
maineth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sin,  but  a 
certain  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  and 
fiery  indignation,  which  shall  devour  the 
adversaries."      Jesus  Christ  will    save  OS 
from  this  by  saving  us  from  sin.     He  who 
hath  reconciled  us  by  his  death,  will,  by  his 
life,  accomplish  for  us  this  salvation.     Re- 
conciliation is  not  salvation.     It  is  only  the 
portal  to  it.     Justification  is  not  the  end  of 
Christ's  coming — it  is  only  the  means  to 
an  ultimate  attainment.     By  his  death  he 
pacified  the  lawgiver.     By  his  life  he  puri- 
fies the  sinner.     The  one  work  is  finished. 
The  other  is  not  so,  but  it  is  only  going  on 
unto  perfection.     And  this  is  the  secret  of 
that  unwillingness  which  I  have  already 
touched  upon.     There  is  a  willingness  that 
God  would  lift  off  from  their  persons  the 
hand  of  an  avenger.     But  there  is  not  a 
willingness    that    Christ  would    lay  upon 
their  persons  the  hand  of  a  sanctifier.    The 
motive  for  him  to  apprehend  them  is  to 
make  them  holy.     But  they  care  not  to  ap- 
prehend that  for  which   they  are  appre- 
hended.    They  see  not  that  the  use  of  the 
new  dispensation,  is  for  them  to  be  restored 
to  the  image  they  have  lost,  and,  for  this 
purpose  to  be  purged  from  their  old  sins. 
This    is  the  point  on  which  they  are  in 
darkness — "and    they   love   the    darkness 
rather  than  the  light,  because  their  deeds 
are  evil."     They  are  at  all  times  willing  for 
the  reward  without  the  service.     But  they 
are  not  willing  for  the  reward  and  the  ser- 
vice together.     The  willingness  for  the  one 
they  always  have.     But  the  willingness  for 
both  they  never  have.     They  have  it  not 
to-day — and  it  is  not  the  operation  of  time 


IV.  I 


THE  RESTLESSNESS  OF  HUMAN  AMBITION. 


285 


that  will  put  it  in  them  to-morrow.  Nor 
will  disease  put  it  in.  Nor  will  age  put  it 
in.  Nor  will  the  tokens  of  death  put  it  in. 
Nor  will  the  near  and  terrific  view  of  eter- 
nity put  it  in.  It  may  call  out  into  a  livelier 
sensation  than  before,  a  willingness  for  the 
reward.  But  it  will  neither  inspire  a  taste 
nor  a  willingness  for  the  service.  A  dis- 
taste for  God  and  godliness,  as  it  was  the 


reigning  and  paramount  principle  of  his 
life,  so  may  it  be  the  reigning  and  para- 
mount principle  of  his  death-bed.  As  it 
envenomed  every  breath  which  he  drew, 
so  may  it  envenom  his  last — and  the  spirit 
going  forth  to  the  God  who  gave  it,  with 
all  the  enmity  that  it  ever  had,  God  will 
deal  with  it  as  with  an  enemy. 


SERMON   IV. 

The  Restlessness  of  human  Ambition. 

"  How  say  ye  to  my  soul,  Flee  as  a  bird  to  your  mountain  ? — O  that  I  had  the  wings  of  a  dove,  that  I  may 
fly  away,  and  be  at  rest." — Psalm  xi.  1.  and  lv.  6. 


To  all  those  who  are  conversant  in  the 
scenery  of  external  nature,  it  is  evident, 
that  an  object  to  be  seen  to  the  greatest  ad- 
vantage must  be  placed  at  a  certain  distance 
from  the  eye  of  the  observer.  The  poor 
man's  hut,  though  all  within  be  raggedness 
and  disorder,  and  ail  around  it  be  full  of  the 
most  nauseous  and  disgusting  spectacles — 
yet,  if  seen  at  a  sufficient  distance,  may  ap- 
pear a  sweet  and  interesting  cottage.  That 
field  where  the  thistle  grows,  and  the  face 
of  which  is  deformed  by  the  wild  exuber- 
ance of  a  rank  and  pernicious  vegetation, 
may  delight  the  eye  of  a  distant  spectator 
by  the  loveliness  of  its  verdure.  That  lake, 
whose  waters  are  corrupted,  and  whose 
banks  poison  the  air  by  their  marshy  and 
putrid  exhalations,  may  charm  the  eye  of 
an  enthusiast,  who  views  it  from  an  adjoin- 
ing eminence,  and  dwells  with  rapture  on 
the  quietness  of  its  surface,  and  on  the 
beauty  of  its  outline — its  sweet  border 
fringed  with  the  gayest  colouring  of  Na- 
ture, and  on  which  spring  lavishes  its  finest 
ornaments.  All  is  the  effect  of  distance.  It 
softens  the  harsh  and  disgusting  features  of 
every  object.  What  is  gross  and  ordinary, 
it  can  dress  in  the  most  romantic  attrac- 
tions. The  country  hamlet  it  can  transform 
into  a  paradise  of  beauty,  in  spite  of  the 
abominations  that  are  at  every  door,  and 
the  angry  brawlings  of  the  men  and  the 
women  who  occupy  it.  All  that  is  loath- 
some and  offensive,  is  softened  down  by  the 
power  (if  distance.  You  see  the  smoke 
rising  in  fantastic  wreaths  through  the  pure 
air,  and  the  village  spire  peeping  from  among 
the  thick  verdure  of  the  trees,  which  embo- 
som it.  The  fancy  of  our  sentimentalist 
swells  with  pleasure,  and  peace  and  piety 
supply  their  delightful  associations  to  com- 
plete the  harmony  of  the  picture. 

This  principle  may  serve  to  explain  a 
feeling  which  some  of  you  who  now  hear 
me  may  have  experienced.    On  a  fine  day, 


when  the  sun  threw  its  unclouded  splen- 
dours over  a  whole  neighbourhood,  did  you 
never  form  a  wish  that  your  place  could  be 
transferred  to  some  distant  and  more  beau- 
tiful part  of  the  landscape  ?  Did  the  idea 
never  rise  in  your  fancy,  that  the  people 
who  sport  on  yon  sunny  bank  are  happier 
than  yourself— that  you  would  like  to  be 
buried  in  that  distant  grove,  and  forget,  for  a 
while,  in  silence  and  in  solitude,  the  distrac- 
tions of  the  world — that  you  would  like  to 
repose  by  yon  beautiful  rivulet,  and  soothe 
every  anxiety  of  your  heart  by  the  gentle- 
ness of  its  murmurs — that  you  would  like 
to  transport  yourself  to  the  distance  of  miles, 
and  there  enjoy  the  peace  which  resides  in 
some  sweet  and  sheltered  concealment  ?  In 
a  word,  was  there  no  secret  aspiration  of  the 
soul  for  another  place  than  what  you  actu- 
ally occupied?  Instead  of  resting  in  the 
quiet  enjoyment  of  your  present  situation, 
did  not  your  wishes  wander  abroad  and 
around  you — and  were  not  you  ready  to  ex- 
claim with  the  Psalmist  in  the  text,  "  O  that 
I  had  the  wings  of  a  dove ;  for  I  would  fly 
to  yonder  mountain,  and  be  at  rest  ?" 

But  what  is  of  most  importance  to  be  ob- 
served is,  that  even  when  you  have  reached 
the  mountain,  rest  is  as  far  from  you  as  ever. 
As  you  get  nearer  the  wished-for  spot,  the 
fairy  enchantments  in  which  distance  had 
arrayed  it,  gradually  disappear ;  when  you 
at  last  arrive  at  your  object,  the  illusion  is 
entirely  dissipated  ;  and  you  are  grieved  to 
find,  that  you  have  carried  the  same  princi- 
ple of  restlessness  and  discontent  along  with 
you. 

Now,  what  is  true  of  a  natural  landscape, 
is  also  true  of  that  moral  landscape,  which 
is  presented  to  the  eye  of  the  mind  when  it 
contemplates  human  life,  and  casts  a  wide 
survey  over  the  face  of  human  society.  The 
position  which  I  myself  occupy  is  seen  and 
felt  with  all  its  disadvantages.  Its  vexations 
come  home  to  my  feelings  with  all  the  cer 


28G 


THE  RESTLESSNESS  OF  HUMAN  AMBITION. 


[SERM. 


tainty  of  experience.  I  see  it  before  mine 
eyes  with  a  vision  so  near  and  intimate,  as 
to  admit  of  no  colouring,  and  to  preclude  the 
exercise  of  fancy.  It  is  only  in  those  situa- 
tions which  are  without  me,  where  the  prin- 
ciple of  deception  operates,  and  where  the 
vacancies  of  an  imperfect  experience  are 
filled  up  by  the  power  of  imagination,  ever 
ready  to  summon  the  fairest  forms  of  pure 
and  unmingled  enjoyment.  It  is  all  resolva- 
ble, as  before,  into  the  principle  of  distance. 
I  am  too  far  removed  to  see  the  smaller 
features  of  the  object  which  I  contemplate. 
I  overlook  the  operation  of  those  minuter 
causes,  which  expose  every  situation  of  hu- 
man life  to  the  inroads  of  misery  and  dis- 
appointment. Mine  eye  can  only  take  in  the 
broader  outlines  of  the  object  before  me, 
and  it  consigns  to  fancy  the  task  of  filling 
them  up  with  its  finest  colouring. 

Am  I  unlearned  ?  I  feel  the  disgrace  of 
ignorance,  and  sigh  for  the  name  and  the 
distinctions  of  philosophy.  Do  I  stand  upon 
a  literary  eminence?  I  feel  the  vexations  of 
rivalship,  and  could  almost  renounce  the 
splendours  of  my  dear-bought  reputation 
for  the  peace  and  shelter  which  insigni- 
ficance bestows.  Am  I  poor?  I  riot  in 
fancy  upon  the  gratifications  of  luxury,  and 
think  how  great  I  would  be,  if  invested  with 
all  the  consequence  of  wealth  and  of  pa- 
tronage. Am  I  rich  ?  I  sicken  at  the  de- 
ceitful splendour  which  surrounds  me,  and 
am  at  times  tempted  to  think,  that  I  would 
have  been  happier  far,  if,  born  to  a  humbler 
station,  I  had  been  trained  to  the  peace  and 
innocence  of  poverty.  Am  I  immersed  in 
business  ?  I  repine  at  the  fatigues  of  em- 
ployment, and  envy  the  lot  of  those  who 
have  every  hour  at  their  disposal,  and  can 
spend  all  their  time  in  the  sweet  relaxations 
of  amusement  and  society.  Am  I  exempted 
from  the  necessity  of  exertion  ?  I  feel  the 
corroding  anxieties  of  indolence,  and  at- 
tempt in  vain  to  escape  that  weariness  and 
disgust  which  useful  and  regular  occupation 
can  alone  save  me  from.  Am  I  single  ?  I 
feel  the  dreariness  of  solitude,  and  my  fancy 
warms  at  the  conception  of  a  dear  and  do- 
mestic circle.  Am  I  embroiled  in  the  cares 
of  a  family  ?  I  am  tormented  with  the  per- 
verseness  or  ingratitude  of  those  around 
me ;  and  sigh  in  all  the  bitterness  of  repent- 
ance, over  the  rash  and  irrecoverable  step 
by  which  I  have  renounced  for  ever  the 
charms  of  independence. 

This,  in  fact,  is  the  grand  principle  of  hu- 
man ambition,  and  it  serves  to  explain  both 
its  restlessness  and  its  vanity.  What  is  pre- 
sent is  seen  in  all  its  minuteness,  and  we 
overlook  not  a  single  article  in  the  train  of 
little  drawbacks,  and  difficulties  and  disap- 
pointments. What  is  distant  is  seen  under 
a  broad  and  general  aspect,  and  the  illu- 
sions of  fancy  are  substituted  in  those  places 
which  we  cannot  fill  up  with  the  details  of 


actual  observation.  What  is  present  fills  me 
with  disgust.  What  is  distant  allures  me 
to  enterprise.  I  sigh  for  an  office,  the  busi- 
ness of  which  is  more  congenial  to  my  tem- 
per. I  fix  mine  eye  on  some  lofty  eminence 
in  the  scale  of  preferment.  I  spurn  at  the 
condition  which  I  now  occupy,  and  I  look 
around  me  and  above  me.  The  perpetual 
tendency  is  not  to  enjoy  his  actual  position, 
but.  to  get  away  from  it — and  not  an  indivi- 
dual amongst  us  who  does  not  every  day  of 
his  life  join  in  the  aspiration  of  the  Psalmist, 
"  O  that  I  had  the  wings  of  a  dove,  that  I 
may  fly  to  yonder  mountain,  and  be  at 
rest." 

But  the  truth  is,  that  we  never  rest.  The 
most  regular  and  stationary  being  on  the  face 
of  the  earth,  has  something  to  look  forward 
to,  and  something  to  aspire  after.  He  must 
realize  that  sum  to  which  he  annexes  the 
idea  of  a  competency.  He  must  add  that 
piece  of  ground  which  he  thinks  necessary 
to  complete  the  domain  of  which  he  is  the 
proprietor.  He  must  secure  that  office  which 
confers  so  much  honour  and  emolument 
upon  the  holder.  Even  after  every  effort 
of  personal  ambition  is  exhausted,  he  has 
friends  and  children  to  provide  for.  The 
care  of  those  who  are  to  come  after  him, 
lands  him  in  a  never-ending  train  of  hopes, 
and  wishes,  and  anxieties.  O  that  I  could 
gain  the  vote  and  the  patronage  of  this  ho- 
nourable acquaintance — or,  that  I  could  se- 
cure the  political  influence  of  that  great  man 
who  honours  me  with  an  occasional  call, 
and  addressed  me  the  other  day  with  a  cor- 
diality which  was  quite  bewitching — or  that 
my  young  friend  could  succeed  in  his  com- 
petition for  the  lucrative  vacancy  to  which 
I  have  been  looking  forward,  for  years,  with 
all  the  eagerness  which  distance  and  uncer- 
tainty could  inspire — or  that  we  could  fix 
the  purposes  of  that  capricious  and  unac- 
countable wanderer,  who,  of  late  indeed  has 
been  very  particular  in  his  attentions,  and 
whose  connection  we  acknowledge,  in  se- 
cret, would  be  an  honour  and  an  advantage 
to  our  family — or,  at  all  events,  let  me  heap 
wealth  and  aggrandizement  on  that  son,  who 
is  to  be  the  representative  of  my  name,  and 
is  to  perpetuate  that  dynasty  which  I  have 
had  the  glory  of  establishing. 

This  restless  ambition  is  not  peculiar  to 
any  one  class  of  society.  A  court  only 
offers  to  one's  notice  a  more  exalted  theatre 
for  the  play  of  rivalship  and  political  en- 
terprise. In  the  bosom  of  a  cottage,  you 
may  witness  the  operation  of  the  very  same 
principle,  only  directed  to  objects  of  greater 
insignificance — and  though  a  place  for  my 
girl,  or  an  apprenticeship  for  my  boy,  be  all 
that  I  aspire  after,  yet  an  enlightened  ob- 
server of  the  human  character  will  per- 
ceive in  it  the  same  eagerness  of  competi- 
tion, the  same  jealousy,  the  same  malicious 
attempts  to  undermine  the  success  of  a  more 


IV.] 


THE  RESTLESSNESS  OF  HUMAN  AMBITION. 


■  >>? 


likely  pretender,  the  same  busy  train  of  pas- 
sions and  anxieties  which  animate  the  ex- 
ertions of  him  who  struggles  for  precedency 
in  the  cabinet,  and  lifts  his  ambitious  eye  to 
the  management  of  an  empire. 

This  is  the  universal  property  of  our  na- 
ture. In  the  whole  circle  of  your  experience, 
did  you  ever  see  a  man  sit  down  to  the  full 
enjoyment  of  the  present,  without  a  hope 
or  a  wish  unsatisfied?  Did  he  carry  in  his 
mind  no  reference  to  futurity — no  longing 
of  the  soul  after  some  remote  or  inaccessible 
object— no  day-dream  which  played  its  en- 
chantments around  him,  and  which,  even 
when  accomplished,  left  him  nothing  more 
than  the  delirium  of  a  momentary  triumph  ? 
Did  you  never  see  him,  after  the  bright  illu- 
sions of  novelty  were  over — when  the  pre- 
sent object  had  lost  its  charm,  and  the  dis- 
tant begun  to  practise  its  allurements — when 
some  gay  vision  of  futurity  had  hurried  him 
on  to  a  new  enterprise,  and  in  the  fatigues 
of  a  restless  ambition,  he  felt  a  bosom  as 
oppressed  with  care,  and  a  heart  as  anxious 
and  dissatisfied  as  ever  ? 

This  is  the  true,  though  the  curious,  and 
I  had  almost  said,  the  farcical  picture  of  hu- 
man life.  Look  into  the  heart  which  is  the 
seat  of  feeling,  and  you  there  perceive  a 
perpetual  tendency  to  enjoyment,  but  not 
enjoyment  itself — the  cheerfulness  of  hope, 
but  not  the  happiness  of  actual  posses- 
sion. The  present  is  but  an  instant  of 
time.  The  moment  you  call  it  your  own, 
it  abandons  you.  It  is  not  the  actual  sensa- 
tion which  occupies  the  mind.  It  is  what  is 
to  come  next.  Man  lives  in  futurity.  The 
pleasurable  feeling  of  the  moment  forms  al- 
most no  part  of  his  happiness.  It  is  not  the 
reality  of  to-day  which  interests  his  heart. 
It  is  the  vision  of  to-morrow.  It  is  the  dis- 
tant object  on  which  fancy  has  thrown  its  de- 
ceitful splendour.  When  to-morrow  comes, 
the  animating  hope  is  transformed  into  the 
dull  and  insipid  reality.  As  the  distant  ob- 
ject draws  near,  it  becomes  cold  and  taste- 
less, and  uninteresting.  The  only  way  in 
which  the  mind  can  support  itself,  is  by  re- 
curring to  some  new  anticipation.  This 
may  give  buoyancy  for  a  time — but  it  will 
share  the  fate  of  all  its  predecessors,  and  be 
the  addition  of  another  folly  to  the  wretched 
train  of  disappointments  that  have  gone  be- 
fore it. 

What  a  curious  object  of  contemplation 
to  a  superior  being,  who  casts  an  eye  over 
this  lower  world,  and  surveys  the  busy, 
restless,  and  unceasing  operations  of  the 
people  who  swarm  upon  its  surface.  Let 
him  select  any  one  individual  amongst  us, 
and  confine  his  attention  to  him  as  a  speci- 
men of  the  whole.  Let  him  pursue  him 
through  the  intricate  variety  of  his  move- 
ments, for  he  is  never  stationary ;  see  him 
with  his  eye  fixed  upon  some  distant  ob- 
ject, and  struggling  to  arrive  at  it;  see  him 


pressing  forward  to  some  eminence  which 
perpetually  recedes  away  from  him  ;  sec 
the  inexplicable  being,  as  he  runs  in  full 
pursuit  of  some  glittering  bauble,  and  on 
the  moment  he  reaches  it,  throws  it  behind 
him,  and  it  is  forgotten;  see  him  unmindful 
of  his  past  experience,  and  hurrying  his 
footsteps  to  some  new  object  with  the  same 
eagerness  and  rapidity  as  ever  ;  compare  the 
ecstacy  of  hope  with  the  lifelessness  of  pos- 
session, and  observe  the  whole  history  of 
his  day  to  be  made  up  of  one  fatiguing  race 
of  vanity,  and  restlessness,  and  disappoint- 
ment ; 

"  And,  like  the  glittering  of  an  idiot's  toy, 
Doth  Fancy  mock  his  vows." 

To  complete  the  unaccountable  history, 
let  us  look  to  its  termination.  Man  is  irre- 
gular in  his  movements,  but  this  does  not 
hinder  the  regularity  of  Nature.  Time  will 
not  stand  still  to  look  at  us.  It  moves  at  its 
own  invariable  pace.  The  winged  moments 
fly  in  swift  succession  over  us.  The  great 
luminaries  which  are  suspended  on  high, 
perform  their  cycles  in  the  heaven.  The 
sun  describes  his  circuit  in  the  firmament, 
and  the  space  of  a  few  revolutions  will  bring 
every  man  among  us  to  his  destiny.  The 
decree  passes  abroad  against  the  poor  child 
of  infatuation.  It  meets  him  in  the  full  ca- 
reer of  hope  and  of  enterprise.  He  sees  the 
dark  curtain  of  mortality  falling  upon  the 
world,  and  upon  all  its  interests.  That 
busy,  restless  heart,  so  crowded  with  its 
plans,  and  feelings,  and  anticipations,  for- 
gets to  play,  and  all  its  fluttering  anxieties 
are  hushed  for  ever. 

Where,  then,  is  that  resting-place  which 
the  Psalmist  aspired  after  ?  What  are  we 
to  mean  by  that  mountain,  that  wilderness, 
to  which  he  prayed  that  the  wings  of  a  dove 
may  convey  him,  afar  from  the  noise  and 
distractions  of  the  world,  and  hasten  his 
escape  from  the  windy  storm,  and  the  tem- 
pest I  Is  there  no  object,  in  the  whole  round 
of  human  enjoyment,  which  can  give  rest 
to  the  agitated  spirit  of  man  ?  Will  he  not 
sit  down  in  the  fulness  of  contentment,  after 
he  has  reached  it,  and  bid  a  final  adieu  to 
the  cares  and  fatigues  of  ambition  ?  Is  this 
longing  of  the  mind  a  principle  of  his  na- 
ture, which  no  gratification  can  extinguish? 
Must  it  condemn  him  to  perpetual  agitation, 
and  to  the  wild  impulses  of  an  ambition 
which  is  never  satisfied? 

We  allow  that  exercise  is  the  health  of 
the  mind.  It  is  better  to  engage  in  a  trifling 
pursuit,  if  innocent,  than  to  watch  the  me- 
lancholy progress  of  time,  and  drag  out  a 
weary  existence  in  all  the  languor  of  a  con- 
suming indolence.  But  nobody  will  deny 
that  it  is  better  still,  if  the  pursuit  in  which 
we  are  engaged  be  not  a  trifling  one — if  it 
conducts  to  some  lasting  gratification — if  it 
leads  to  some  object,  the  possession  of 
which  confers  more  happiness  than  the 


288 


THE  RESTLESSNESS  OF  HUMAN  AMBITION. 


[sERM. 


mere  prospect — if  the  mere  pleasure  of  the 
chase  is  not  the  only  recompense — but 
where,  in  addition  to  this,  we  secure  some 
reward  proportioned  to  the  fatigue  of  the 
exercise,  and  that  justifies  the  eagerness 
with  which  we  embarked  in  it.  So  long  as 
the  exercise  is  innocent,  better  do  something 
than  be  idle:  but  better  still,  when  the 
something  we  do,  leads  to  a  valuable  and 
important  termination.  Any  thing  rather 
than  the  ignoble  condition  of  that  mind 
which  feels  the  burden  of  itself — and  which 
knows  not  how  to  dispose  of  the  weary 
hours  that  hang  so  oppressively  upon  it. 
But  there  is  certainly  a  ground  of  preference 
in  the  objects  which  invite  us  to  exertion — 
and  better  far  to  fix  upon  that  object  which 
leaves  happiness  and  satisfaction  behind  it, 
than  dissipate  your  vigour  in  a  pursuit 
which  terminates  in  nothing — and  where 
the  mere  pleasure  of  occupation  is  the  only 
circumstance  to  recommend  it.  When  we 
talk  of  the  vanity  of  ambition,  we  do  not 
propose  to  extinguish  the  principles  of  our 
nature,  but  to  give  them  a  more  useful  and 
exalted  direction.  A  state  of  hope  and  of 
activity  is  the  element  of  man — and  all  that 
we  propose,  is  to  withdraw  his  hopes  from 
the  deceitful  objects  of  fancy,  and  to  engage 
his  activity  in  the  pursuit  of  real  and  per- 
manent enjoyments. 

Man  must  have  an  object  to  look  forward 
to.  Without  this  incitement  the  mind  lan- 
guishes. It  is  thrown  out  of  its  element, 
and,  in  this  unnatural  suspension  of  its 
powers,  it  feels  a  dreariness,  and  a  discom- 
fort, far  more  unsufferable  than  it  ever  ex- 
perienced from  the  visitations  of  a  real  or 
positive  calamity.  If  such  an  object  does 
not  offer,  he  will  create  one  for  himself. 
The  mere  possession  of  wealth,  and  of  all 
its  enjoyments,  will  not  satisfy  him.  Pos- 
session carries  along  with  it  the  dulness  of 
certainty,  and  to  escape  from  this  dulness, 
he  will  transform  it  into  an  uncertainty — he 
will  embark  it  in  a  hazardous  speculation, 
or  he  will  stake  it  at  the  gaming-table ;  and 
from  no  other  principle  than  that  he  may 
exchange  the  lifelessness  of  possession,  for 
the  animating  sensations  of  hope  and  of  en- 
terprise. It  is  a  paradox  in  the  moral  con- 
stitution of  man;  but  the  experience  of 
every  day  confirms  it — that  man  follows 
what  he  knows  to  be  a  delusion,  with  as 
much  eagerness,  as  if  he  were  assured  of  its 
reality.  Put  the  question  to  him,  and  he 
will  tell  you,  that  if  you  were  to  lay  before 
him  all  the  profits  which  his  fancy  antici- 
pates, he  would  long  as  much  as  ever  for 
some  new  speculation ;  or,  in  other  words, 
be  as  much  dissatisfied  as  ever  with  the  po- 
sition which  he  actually  occupies — and  yet, 
with  his  eye  perfectly  open  to  this  circum- 
stance, will  he  embark  every  power  of  his 
mind  in  the  chase  of  what  he  knows  to  be 
a  mockery  and  a  phantom. 


Now,  to  find  fault  with  man  for  the  plea- 
sure which  he  derives  from  the  mere  ex- 
citement of  a  distant  object,  would  be  to 
find  fault  with  the  constitution  of  his  nature. 
It  is  not  the  general  principle  of  his  activity 
which  I  condemn.  It  is  the  direction  of 
that  activity  to  a  useless  and  unprofitable 
object.  The  mere  happiness  of  the  pursuit 
does  not  supersede  the  choice  of  the  object. 
Even  though  you  were  to  keep  religion  out 
of  sight  altogether,  and  bring  the  conduct 
of  man  to  the  test  of  worldly  principles,  you 
still  presuppose  a  ground  of  preference  in 
the  object.  Why  is  the  part  of  the  sober 
and  industrious  tradesman  preferred  to  that 
of  the  dissipated  gambler?  Both  feel  the 
delights  of  a  mind  fully  occupied  with 
something  to  excite  and  to  animate.  But 
the  exertions  of  the  one  lead  to  the  safe  en- 
joyment of  a  competency.  The  exertions 
of  the  other  lead  to  an  object  which,  at  best, 
is  precarious,  and  often  land  you  in  the  hor- 
rors of  poverty  and  disgrace.  The  mere 
pleasure  of  exertion  is  not  enough  to  justify 
every  kind  of  it:  you  must  look  forward  to 
the  object  and  the  termination — and  it  is 
the  judicious  choice  of  the  object  which, 
even  in  the  estimation  of  worldly  wisdom, 
forms  the  great  point  of  distinction  betwixt 
prudence  and  folly.  Now,  all  that  I  ask  of 
you,  is  to  extend  the  application  of  the  same 
principle  to  a  life  of  religion.  Compare  the 
wisdom  of  the  children  of  light,  with  the 
wisdom  of  a  blind  and  worldly  generation ; 
the  prudence  of  the  Christian  who  labours 
for  immortality,  with  the  prudence  of  him 
who  labours  for  the  objects  of  a  vain  and 
perishable  ambition.  Contrast  the  littleness 
of  time,  with  the  greatness  of  eternity — the 
restless  and  unsatisfying  pleasures  of  the 
world,  with  the  enjoyments  of  heaven,  so 
pure,  so  substantial,  so  unfading — and  tell 
me  which  plays  the  higher  game — he,  all 
whose  anxiety  is  frittered  away  on  the  pur- 
suits of  a  scene  that  is  ever  shifting,  and 
ever  transitory;  or  he,  who  contemplates 
the  life  of  man  in  all  its  magnitude ;  who 
acts  upon  the  wide  and  comprehensive  sur- 
vey of  its  interests,  and  takes  into  his  esti- 
mate the  mighty  roll  of  innumerable  ages. 

There  is  no  resting-place  to  be  found  on 
this  side  of  time.  It  is  the  doctrine  of  the 
Bible,  and  all  experience  loudly  proclaims 
it.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  listen  to  the  com- 
plaints of  the  poor,  or  the  murmurs  of  the 
disappointed.  Take  your  lesson  from  the 
veriest  favourite  of  fortune.  See  him  placed 
in  a  prouder  eminence  than  he  ever  aspired 
after.  See  him  arrayed  in  brighter  colours 
than  ever  dazzled  his  early  imagination. 
See  him  surrounded  with  all  the  homage 
that  fame  and  flattery  can  bestow — and  af- 
ter you  have  suffered  this  parading  exterior 
to  practise  its  deceitfulness  upon  you,  enter 
into  his  solitude — mark  his  busy,  restless, 
dissatisfied  eye,  as  it  wanders  uncertain  on 


v.J 


THE  TRANSITORY  NATURE  OF  VISIBLE  THINGS. 


289 


every  object — enter  into  his  mind,  and  tell 
me  if  repose  or  enjoyment  be  there;  see 
him  the  poor  victim  of  chagrin  and  disquie- 
tude— mark  his  heart  as  it  nauseates  the 
splendour  which  encompasses  him — and 
tell  me,  if  you  have  not  learned,  in  the 
truest  and  most  affecting  characters,  that 
even  in  the  full  tide  of  a  triumphant  ambi- 
tion, "man  labours  for  the  meat  which 
perisheth,  and  for  the  food  which  satisfieth 
not." 

What  meaneth  this  restlessness  of  our 
nature?  What  meaneth  this  unceasing  ac- 
tivity which  longs  for  exercise  and  employ- 
ment, even  after  every  object  is  gained, 
which  first  roused  it  to  enterprise?  What 
mean  those  unmeasurable  longings,  which 
no  gratification  can  extinguish,  and  which 
still  continue  to  agitate  the  heart  of  man, 
even  in  the  fulness  of  plenty  and  of  enjoy- 
ment. If  they  mean  any  thing  at  all,  they 
mean,  that  all  which  this  world  can  offer,  is 
not  enough  to  fill  up  his  capacity  for  hap- 


piness— that  time  is  too  small  for  him,  anc! 
he  is  born  for  something  beyond  it — that 
the  scene  of  his  earthly  existence  is  too 
limited,  and  he  is  formed  to  expatiate  in  a 
wider  and  a  grander  theatre — that  a  nobler 
destiny  is  reserved  for  him — and  that  to 
accomplish  the  purpose  of  his  being,  he 
must  soar  above  the  littleness  of  the  world, 
and  aim  at  a  loftier  prize. 

It  forms  the  peculiar  honour  and  excel- 
lence of  religion,  that  it  accommodates  to 
this  property  of  our  nature — that  it  holds 
out  a  prize  suited  to  our  high  calling — that 
there  is  a  grandeur  in  its  objects,  which 
can  fill  and  surpass  the  imagination — that  it 
dignifies  the  present  scene  by  connecting  it 
with  eternity — that  it  reveals  to  the  eye  of 
faith  the  glories  of  an  unperishable  world — 
and  how,  from  the  high  eminences  of  hea- 
ven, a  cloud  of  witnesses  are  looking  down 
upon  earth,  not  as  a  scene  for  the  petty 
anxieties  of  time,  but  as  a  splendid  theatre 
for  the  ambition  of  immortal  spirits. 


SERMON  V. 


The  transitory  Nature  of  visible  Things. 

"  The  things  that  are  seen  are  temporal." — 2  Corinthians  iv.  18. 


The  assertion  that  the  things  which  are 
seen  are  temporal,  holds  true  in  the  abso- 
lute and  universal  sense  of  it.  They  had  a 
beginning,  and  they  will  have  an  end. 
Should  we  go  upwards  through  the  stream 
of  ages  that  are  past,  we  come  to  a  time 
when  they  were  not.  Should  we  go  on- 
ward through  the  stream  of  ages  that  are 
before  us,  we  come  to  a  time  when  they 
will  be  no  more.  It  is  indeed  a  most  mys- 
terious flight  which  the  imagination  ven- 
tures upon,  when  it  goes  back  to  the  eter- 
nity that  is  behind  us — when  it  mounts  its 
ascending  way  through  the  millions  and 
the  millions  of  years  that  are  already  gone 
through,  and  stop  where  it  may,  it  finds  the 
line  of  its  march  always  lengthening  be- 
yond it,  and  Losing  itself  in  the  obscurity  of 
as  far  removed  a  distance  as  ever.  It  soon 
reaches  the  commencement  of  visible  things, 
or  that  point  of  its  progress  when  God 
made  the  heavens  and  the  earth.  They  had 
a  beginning,  but  God  had  none;  and  what 
a  wonderful  field  for  the  fancy  to  expatiate 
on,  when  we  get  above  the  era  of  created 
worlds,  and  think  of  that  period  when,  in 
respect  of  all  that  is  visible,  the  immensity 
around  us  was  one  vast  and  unpeopled  soli- 
tude. But  God  was  there  in  his  dwelling- 
place,  for  it  is  said  of  him  that  he  inhabits 
eternity ;  and  the  Son  of  God  was  there,  for 
we  read  of  the  glorv  which  he  had  with  the 
37 


Father  before  the  world  was.  The  mind 
cannot  sustain  itself  under  the  burden  of 
these  lofty  contemplations.  It  cannot  lift 
the  curtain  which  shrouds  the  past  eternity 
of  God.  But  it  is  good  for  the  soul  to  be 
humbled  under  a  sense  of  its  incapacity.  It 
is  good  to  realize  the  impression  which  too 
often  abandons  us,  that  he  made  us,  and  not 
we  ourselves.  It  is  good  to  feel  how  all 
that  is  temporal  lies  in  passive  and  pros- 
trate subordination  before  the  will  of  the  un- 
created God.  It  is  good  to  know  how  little 
a  portion  it  is  that  we  see  of  him  and  of 
his  mysterious  ways.  It  is  good  to  lie  at 
the  feet  of  his  awful  and  unknown  majesty 
— and  while  secret,  things  belong  to  him,  it 
is  good  to  bring  with  us  all  the  helplessness 
and  docility  of  children  to  those  revealed 
lessons  which  belong  to  us  and  to  our  chil- 
dren. 

But  this  is  not  the  sense  in  which  the 
temporal  nature  of  visible  things  is  taken 
up  by  the  Apostle.  It  is  not  that  there  is  a 
time  past  in  which  they  did  not  exist — but 
there  is  a  time  to  come  in  which  they  will 
exist  no  more.  He  calls  them  temporal, 
because  the  time  and  the  duration  of  their 
existence  will  have  an  end.  Hiseye  is  full 
upon  futurity.  It  is  the  passing  away  of 
visible  things  in  the  time  that  is  to  come, 
and  the  ever  during  nature  of  invisible 
things  thror.  jh  the  eternity  that  is  to  come, 


290 


THE  TRANSITORY  NATURE  OF  VISIBLE  THINGS. 


[sERM. 


which  the  Apostle  is  contemplating.  Now, 
on  this  one  point  we  say  nothing  about  the 
positive  annihilation  of  the  matter  of  visible 
things.  There  is  reason  for  believing,  that 
some  of  the  matter  of  our  present  bodies 
may  exist  in  those  more  glorified  and  trans- 
formed bodies  which  we  are  afterwards  to 
occupy.  And  for  any  thing  we  know,  the 
matter  of  the  present  world,  and  of  the  pre- 
sent system  may  exist  in  those  new  heavens 
and  that  new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righ- 
teousness. There  may  be  a  transfiguration 
of  matter  without  a  destruction  of  it — and, 
therefore  it  is,  that  when  we  assert  with 
the  Apostle  in  the  text,  how  things  seen 
are  temporal,  we  shall  not  say  more  than 
that  the  substance  of  these  things,  if  not 
consigned  back  again  to  the  nothing  from 
which  they  had  emerged,  will  be  employed 
in  the  formation  of  other  things  totally  dif- 
ferent— that  the  change  will  be  so  great,  as 
that  all  old  things  may  be  said  to  have 
passed  away,  and  all  things  to  become  new 
— that  after  the  wreck  of  the  last  conflagra- 
tion, the  desolated  scene  will  be  re-peopled 
with  other  objects ;  the  righteous  will  live 
in  another  world,  and  the  eye  of  the  glori- 
fied body  will  open  on  another  field  of  con- 
templation from  that  which  is  now  visible 
around  us. 

Now,  in  this  sense  of  the  word  temporal, 
the  assertion  of  my  text  may  be  carried 
round  to  all  that  is  visible.  Even  those  ob- 
jects which  men  are  most  apt  to  count  upon 
as  imperishable,  because,  without  any  sensi- 
ble decay,  they  have  stood  the  lapse  of 
many  ages,  will  not  weather  the  lapse  of 
eternity.  This  earth  will  be  burnt  up.  The 
light  of  yonder  sun  will  be  extinguished. 
These  stars  will  cease  from  their  twink- 
ling. The  heavens  will  pass  away  as  a 
scroll — and  as  to  those  solid  and  enormous 
masses  winch,  like  the  firm  world  we  tread 
upon,  roll  in  mighty  circuit  through  the 
immensity  around  us,  it  seems  the  solemn 
language  of  revelation  of  one  and  all  of 
them,  that  from  the  face  of  him  who  sitteth 
on  the  throne,  the  earth  and  the  heavens 
will  fly  away,  and  there  will  be  found  no 
place  for  them. 

Even  apart  from  the  Bible,  the  eye  of 
observation  can  witness,  in  some  of  the 
hardest  and  firmest  materials  of  the  present 
system,  the  evidence  of  its  approaching  dis- 
solution. What  more  striking,  for  example, 
than  the  natural  changes  which  take  place 
on  the  surface  of  the  world,  and  which 
prove  that  the  strongest  of  Nature's  ele- 
ments must,  at  last,  yield  to  the  operation 
of  time  and  of  decay— that  yonder  towering 
mountain,  though  propped  by  the  rocky 
battlements  which  surround  it,  must  at  last 
sink  under  the  power  of  corruption — that 
every  year  brings  it  nearer  to  its  end — that 
at  this  moment,  it  is  wasting  silently  away, 
and  letting  itself  down  from  the  lofty  emi- 


nence which  it  now  occupies — that  the  tor- 
rent which  falls  from  its  side  never  ceases 
to  consume  its  substance,  and  to  carry  it 
off  in  the  form  of  sediment  to  the  ocean — 
that  the  frost  which  assails  it  in  the  winter 
loosens  the  solid  rock,  detaches  it  in  pieces 
from  the  main  precipice,  Mid  makes  it  fall 
in  fragments  to  its  base — that  the  power 
of  the  weather  scales  off  the  most  flinty 
materials,  and  that  the  wind  of  heaven 
scatters  them  in  dust  over  the  surrounding 
country — that  even  though  not  anticipated 
by  the  sudden  and  awful  convulsions  of  the 
day  of  God's  wrath,  nature  contains  within 
itself  the  rudiments  of  decay — that  every 
hill  must  be  levelled  with  the  plains,  and 
every  plain  be  swept  away  by  the  constant 
operation  of  the  rivers  which  run  through 
it — and  that,  unless  renewed  by  the  ha^jd 
of  the  Almighty,  the  earth  on  which  we 
are  now  treading  must  disappear  in  the 
mighty  roll  of  ages  and  of  centuries.  We 
cannot  take  our  flight  to  other  worlds,  or 
have  a  near  view  of  the  changes  to  which 
they  are  liable.  But  surely  if  this  world 
which,  with  its  mighty  apparatus  of  conti- 
nents and  islands,  looks  so  healthful  and  so 
firm  after  the  wear  of  many  centuries,  is 
posting  visibly  to  its  end,  we  may  be  pre- 
pared to  believe  that  the  principles  of  des- 
truction are  also  at  work  in  other  pro- 
vinces of  the  visible  creation — and  that 
though  of  old  God  laid  the  foundation  of 
the  earth,  and  the  heavens  are  the  work  of 
his  hands,  yet  they  shall  perish ;  yea,  all 
of  them  shall  wax  old  like  a  garment,  and 
as  a  vesture  shall  he  change  them,  and  they 
shall  be  changed. 

We  should  be  out  of  place  in  all  this  style 
of  observation,  did  we  not  follow  it  up  with 
the  sentiment  of  the  Psalmist,  "These  shall 
perish,  but  thou  shalt  endure  ;  for  thou  art 
the  same,  and  thy  years  have  no  end." 
What  a  lofty  conception  does  it  give  us  of 
the  majesty  of  God,  when  we  think  how  he 
sits  above,  and  presides  in  high  authority 
over  this  mighty  series  of  changes — when 
after  sinking  under  our  attempts  to  trace 
him  through  the  eternity  that  is  behind,  we 
look  on  the  present  system  of  things,  and 
are  taught  to  believe  that  it  is  but  a  single 
step  in  the  march  of  his  grand  administra- 
tions through  the  eternity  that  is  before  us 
— when  we  think  of  this  goodly  universe, 
summoned  into  being  to  serve  some  tem- 
porary evolution  of  his  great  and  mysteri- 
ous plan — when  we  think  of  the  time  when 
it  shall  be  broken  up,  and  out  of  its  disor- 
dered fragments  other  scenes  and  other 
systems  shall  emerge — surely,  when  fa- 
tigued with  the  vastness  of  these  contem- 
plations, it  well  becomes  us  to  do  the  ho- 
mage of  our  reverence  and  wonder  to  the 
one  Spirit  which  conceives  and  animates  the 
whole,  and  to  the  one  noble  design  which 
runs  through  all  its  fluctuations. 


v.] 


THE  TRANSITORY  NATURE  OF  VISIBLE  THINGS. 


291 


But  there  is  another  way  in  which  the 
objects  that  are  seen  are  temporal.  The 
object  may  not  merely  be  removed  from 
us,  but  we  may  be  removed  from  the  ob- 
ject. The  disappearance  of  this  earth,  and 
of  these  heavens  from  us,  we  look  upon 
through  the  dimness  of  a  far-placed  futurity. 
It  is  an  event,  therefore,  which  may  re- 
gale our  imagination  ;  which  may  lift  our 
mind  by  its  sublimity ;  which  may  disengage 
us  in  the  calm  hour  of  meditation  from 
the  littleness  of  life,  and  of  its  cares;  and 
which  may  even  throw  a  clearness  and  a 
solemnity  over  our  intercourse  with  God. 
But  such  an  event  as  this  does  not  come 
home  upon  our  hearts  with  the  urgency  of 
a  personal  interest.  It  does  not  carry  along 
with  it  the  excitement  which  lies  in  the 
nearness  of  an  immediate  concern.  It  does 
not  fall  with  such  vivacity  upon  our  con- 
ceptions, as  practically  to  tell  on  our  pur- 
suits, or  any  of  our  purposes.  It  may  ele- 
vate and  solemnize  us,  but  this  effect  is 
perfectly  consistent  with  its  having  as  little 
influence  on  the  walk  of  the  living,  and  the 
moving  and  the  acting  man,  as  a  dream  of 
poetry.  The  preacher  may  think  that  he 
has  done  great  things  with  his  eloquence — 
and  the  hearers  may  think  that  great  things 
have  been  done  upon  them — for  they  felt  a 
fine  glow  of  emotion,  when  they  heard  of 
God  sitting  in  the  majesty  of  his  high  coun- 
sels, over  the  progress  and  the  destiny  of 
created  things.  But  the  truth  is,  my  bre- 
thren, that  all  this  kindling  of  devotion 
which  is  felt  upon  the  contemplation  of  his 
greatness,  may  exist  in  the  same  bosom, 
with  an  utter  distaste  for  the  holiness  of 
his  character  ;  with  an  entire  alienation  of 
the  heart  and  of  the  habits  from  the  obe- 
dience of  his  law  ;  and  above  all,  with  a 
most  nauseous  and  invincible  contempt  for 
the  spiritualities  of  that  revelation,  in  which 
he  lias  actually  made  known  his  will  and 
his  way  to  us.  The  devotion  of  mere  taste 
is  one  thing — the  devotion  of  principle 
is  another.  And  as  surely  as  a  man  may 
weep  over  the  elegant  sufferings  of  poetry, 
yet  add  to  the  real  sufferings  of  life  by 
peevishness  in  his  family,  and  insolence 
among  his  neighbours — so  surely  may  a 
man  be  wakened  to  rapture  by  the  magni- 
ficence of  God,  while  his  life  is  deformed 
by  its  rebellions,  and  his  heart  rankles  with 
all  the  foulness  of  idolatry  against  him. 

Well,  then,  let  us  try  the  other  way  of 
bringing  the  temporal  nature  of  visible 
things  to  bear  upon  your  interests.  It  is 
true,  that  this  earth  and  these  heavens,  will 
at  length  disappear  ;  but  they  may  outlive 
our  posterity  for  many  generations.  How- 
ever, if  they  disappear  not  from  us,  we 
most  certainly  shall  disappear  from  them. 
They  will  soon  cease  to  be  any  thing  to 
you — and  though  the  splendour  and  variety 
of  all  that  is  visible  around  us,  should  last 


for  thousands  of  centuries,  your  eyes  will 
soon  be  closed  upon  them.  The  time  is 
coming  when  this  goodly  scene  shall  reach 
its  positive  consummation.  But,  in  all  like- 
lihood, the  time  is  coming  much  sooner, 
when  you  shall  resign  the  breath  of  your 
nostrils,  and  bid  a  final  adieu  to  every  thing 
around  you.  Let  this  earth,  and  these  hea- 
vens be  as  enduring  as  they  may,  to  jrou 
they  are  fugitive  as  vanity.  Time,  with  its 
mighty  strides,  will  soon  reach  a  future  ge- 
neration, and  leave  the  present  in  death  and 
in  forgetfulness  behind  it.  The  grave  will 
close  upon  every  one  of  you,  and  that  is 
the  dark  and  the  silent  cavern  where  no 
voice  is  heard,  and  the  light  of  the  sun  never 
enters. 

But  more  than  this.  Though  we  live  too 
short  a  time  to  see  the  great  changes  which 
are  carrying  on  in  the  universe,  we  live 
long  enough  to  see  many  of  its  changes — 
and  such  changes  too  as  are  best  fitted  to 
warn  and  to  teach  us ;  even  the  changes 
which  take  place  in  society,  made  up  of 
human  beings  as  frail  and  as  fugitive  as 
ourselves.  Death  moves  us  away  from 
many  of  those  objects  which  are  seen  and 
temporal — but  we  live  long  enough  to  see 
many  of  these  objects  moved  away  from  us 
— to  see  acquaintances  falling  every  year — 
to  see  families  broken  up  by  the  rough  and 
unsparing  hand  of  death — to  see  houses 
and  neighbourhoods  shifting  their  inhabi- 
tants— to  see  a  new  race,  and  a  new  gene- 
ration— and,  whether  in  church  or  in  mar- 
ket, to  see  unceasing  changes  in  the  faces 
of  the  people  who  repair  to  them.  We 
know  well,  that  there  is  a  poetic  melan- 
choly inspired  by  such  a  picture  as  this, 
which  is  altogether  unfruitful — and  that, 
totally  apart  from  religion,  a  man  may 
give  way  to  the  luxury  of  tears,  when  he 
thinks  how  friends  drop  away  from  him — 
how  every  year  brings  along  with  it  some 
sad  addition  to  the  registers  of  death — how 
the  kind  and  hospitable  mansion  is  left  with- 
out a  tenant— and  how,  when  you  knock 
at  a  neighbour's  door,  you  find  that  he  who 
welcomed  you,  and  made  you  happy,  is  no 
longer  there.  O  that  we  could  impress  by 
all  this,  a  salutary  direction  on  the  fears 
and  on  the  consciences  of  individuals — that 
we  could  give  them  a  living  impression  of 
that  coming  day,  when  they  shall  severally 
share  in  the  general  wreck  of  the  species — 
when  each  of  you  shall  be  one  of  the  many 
whom  the  men  of  the  next  generation  may  re- 
member to  have  lived  in  yonder  street,  or  la- 
boured in  yonder  manufactory—when  they 
shall  speak  of  you,  just  as  you  speak  of  the 
men  of  the  former  generation— who,  when 
they  died,  had  a  few  tears  dropped  over  their 
memory,  and  for  a  few  years  will  still  con- 
tinue to  be  talked  of.  O,  could  we  succeed 
in  giving  you  a  real  and  living  impression  of 
all  this  ;  and  then  may  we  hope  to  carry  the 


292 


THE  TRANSITORY  NATURE  OF  VISIBLE  THINGS. 


fSERM. 


esson  of  John  the  Baptist  with  energy  to 
your  fears,  "  Flee  from  the  coming  wrath." 
But  there  is  something  so  very  deceiving  in 
the  progress  of  time.  Its  progress  is  so 
gradual.  To-day  is  so  like  yesterday  that 
we  are  not  sensible  of  its  departure.  We 
should  make  head  against  this  delusion. 
We  should  turn  to  personal  account  every 
example  of  change  or  of  mortality.  •  When 
the  clock  strikes,  it  should  remind  you  of 
the  dying  hour.  When  you  hear  the  sound 
of  the  funeral  bell,  you  should  think,  that 
in  a  little  time  it  will  perform  for  you  the 
same  office.  When  you  wake  in  the  morn- 
ing, you  should  think  that  there  has  been 
the  addition  of  another  day  to  the  life 
that  is  past,  and  the  subtraction  of  another 
day  from  the  remainder  of  your  journey. 
When  the  shades  of  the  evening  fall  around 
you,  you  should  think  of  the  steady  and 
invariable  progress  of  time — how  the  sun 
moves  and  moves  till  it  will  see  you  out — 
and  how  it  will  continue  to  move  after  you 
die,  and  see  out  your  children's  children  to 
the  latest  generations. 

Every  thing  around  us  should  impress 
the  mutability  of  human  affairs.  An  ac- 
quaintance dies — you  will  soon  follow  him. 
A  family  moves  from  the  neighbourhood — 
learn  that  the  works  of  man  are  given  to 
change.  New  familes  succeed — sit  loose 
to  the  world,  and  withdraw  your  affections 
from  its  unstable  and  fluctuating  interests. 
Time  is  rapid,  though  we  observe  not  its 
rapidity.  The  days  that  are  past  appear 
like  the  twinkling  of  a  vision.  The  days 
that  are  to  come  will  soon  have  a  period, 
and  will  appear  to  have  performed  their 
course  with  equal  rapidity.  We  talk  of 
our  fathers  and  grandfathers,  who  figured 
their  day  in  the  theatre  of  the  world.  In  a 
little  time,  we  will  be  the  ancestors  of  a  fu- 
ture age.  Posterity  will  talk  of  us  as  of  the 
men  that  are  gone,  and  our  remembrance 
will  soon  depart  from  the  face  of  the  coun- 
try. When  we  attend  the  burial  of  an  ac- 
quaintance, we  see  the  bones  of  the  men  of 
other  times — in  a  few  years,  our  bodies  will 
be  mangled  by  the  power  of  corruption, 
and  be  thrown  up  in  loose  and  scattered 
fragments  among  the  earth  of  the  new 
made  grave.  When  we  wander  among  the 
tombstones  of  the  church-yard,  we  can 
scarcely  follow  the  mutilated  letters  that 
compose  the  simple  story  of  the  inhabitant 
below.  In  a  little  time,  and  the  tomb  that 
covers  us,  will  moulder  by  the  power  of 
the  seasons — and  the  letters  will  be  eaten 
away — and  the  story  that  was  to  perpetuate 
our  remembrance,  will  elude  the  gaze  of 
some  future  inquirer. 

We  know  that  time  is  short,  but  none 
of  us  know  how  short.  We  know  that  it 
will  not  go  beyond  a  certain  limit  of  years; 
but  none  of  us  know  how  small  the  num- 
ber of  years,  or  months,  or  days  may  be. 


For  death  is  at  work  upon  all  ages.  The 
fever,of  a  few  days  may  hurry  the  likeliest 
of  us  all  from  this  land  of  mortality.  The 
cold  of  a  few  weeks  may  settle  into  some 
lingering  but  irrecoverable  disease.  In  one 
instant  the  blood  of  him  who  has  the  pro- 
mise of  many  years,  may  cease  its  circula- 
tion. Accident  may  assail  us.  A  slight 
fall  may  precipitate  us  into  eternity.  An 
exposure  to  rain  may  lay  us  on  the  bed  of 
our  last  sickness,  from  which  we  are  never 
more  to  rise.  A  little* spark  may  kindle  the 
midnight  conflagration,  which  lays  a  house 
and  its  inhabitants  in  ashes.  A  stroke  of 
lightning  may  arrest  the  current  of  life  in  a 
twinkling.  A  gust  of  wind  may  overturn 
the  vessel,  and  lay  the  unwary  passenger 
in  a  watery  grave.  A  thousand  dangers 
beset  us  on  the  slippery  path  of  this  world  ; 
and  no  age  is  exempted  from  them — and 
from  the  infant  that  hangs  on  its  mother's 
bosom,  to  the  old  man  who  sinks  under  the 
decrepitude  of  years,  we  see  death  in  all  its 
woful  and  affecting  varieties. 

You  may  think  it  strange — but  even  still 
we  fear,  we  may  have  done  little  in  the 
way  of  sending  a  fruitful  impression  into 
your  consciences.  We  are  too  well  aware 
of  the  distinction  between  seriousness  of 
feeling,  and  seriousness  of  principle,  to 
think  that  upon  the  strength  of  any  such 
moving  representation  as  we  are  now  in- 
dulging in,  we  shall  be  able  to  dissipate 
that  confounded  spell  which  chains  you  to 
the  world,  to  reclaim  your  wandering  af- 
fections, or  to  send  you  back  to  your  week- 
day business  more  pure  and  more  hea- 
venly. But  sure  we  are  you  ought  to  be 
convinced,  how  that  all  which  binds  you  so 
cleavingly  to  the  dust  is  infatuation  and 
vanity;  that  there  is  something  most  la- 
mentably wrong  in  your  being  carried 
away  by  the  delusions  of  time — and  this 
is  a  conviction  which  should  make  you 
feel  restless  and  dissatisfied.  We  are  well 
aware  that  it  is  not  human  eloquence,  or 
human  illustration,  that  can  accomplish  a 
victory  over  the  obstinate  principles  of  hu- 
man corruption — and  therefore  it  is  that 
we  feel  as  if  we  did  not  advance  aright 
through  a  single  step  of  a  sermon,  unless 
we  look  for  the  influences  of  that  mighty 
Spirit,  who  alone  is  able  to  enlighten  and 
arrest  you — and  may  employ  even  so  hum- 
ble an  instrument  as  the  voice  of  a  fellow 
mortal,  to  send  into  your  heart  the  inspira- 
tion of  understanding. 

I  now  shortly  insist  on  the  truth,  that 
the  things  which  are  not  seen  are  eternal. 
No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time,  and 
he  is  eternal.  It  is  said  of  Christ,  "  whom 
having  not  seen,  we  love,  and  he  is  the 
same  to-day,  yesterday,  and  for  ever."  •  It 
is  said  of  the  Spirit,  that,  like  the  wind  of 
heaven  he  eludes  the  observation,  and  no 
man  can  tell  of  him  whence  he  cometh,  or 


v.] 


THE  TRANSITORY  NATURE  OF  VISIBLE  THINGS. 


293 


whither  he   goeth — and  he  is   called  the 
Eternal  Spirit,  through  whom  the  Son  of- 
fered himself  up  without  spot  unto  God. 
We  are  quite  aware,  that  the  idea  suggest- 
ed by  the  eternal  tilings  which  are  spoken 
of  in  our  text,  is  heaven,  with  all   its  cir- 
cumstances of  splendour  and  enjoyment. 
This  is  an  object  which,  even  on  the  prin- 
ciples of  taste,  we  take  a  delight  in  contem- 
plating ;  and  it  is  also  an  object  set  before 
us  in  the  Scriptures,  though  with  a  very 
sparing  and   reserved   hand.     All   the  de- 
scriptions   we   have   of  heaven  there,  are 
general,    very  general.     We    read   of  the 
beauty  of  the  heavenly  crown,  of  the  un- 
fading nature  of  the  heavenly  inheritance, 
of  the  splendour  of  the  heavenly  city — and 
these  have  been   seized  upon  by  men  of 
imagination,  wtio,  in  the   construction  of 
their  fancied  paradise,  have  embellished  it 
with  every  image  of  peace,  and  bliss,  and 
loveliness;  and,  at  all  events,  have  thrown 
over  it  that  most  kindling  of  all  concep- 
tions, the  magnificence  of  eternity.     Now, 
such  a  picture  as  this  has  the  certain  effect 
of   ministering   delight   to  every  glowing 
and  susceptible  imagination.    And  here  lies 
the  deep-laid  delusion,  which  we  have  oc- 
casionally hinted  at.     A  man  listens,   in 
the  first  instance,  to  a  pathetic  and  high- 
wrought  narrative  on  the  vanities  of  time 
— and  it  touches  him  even  to  the  tenderness 
of  tears.     He  looks,  in  the  second  instance, 
to   the  fascinating  perspective  of  another 
scene,  rising  in  all  the  glories  of  immor- 
tality from  the  dark  ruins  of  the  tomb,  and 
he  feels  within  him  all  those  ravishments 
of  fancy,  which  any  vision  of  united  gran- 
deur and  loveliness  would  inspire.     Take 
these  two  together,  and  you  have  a  man 
weeping  over  the  transient  vanities  of  an 
ever-shifting  world,  and   mixing  with  all 
this  softness,  ;m  elevation  of  thought  and 
of  prospect,  as  he  looks  through  the  vista 
of  a  futurity,  losing  itself  in  the  mighty 
range  of  thousands  and  thousands  of  cen- 
turies.    And   at  this    point   the  delusion 
comes  in,  that  here  is  a  man  who  is  all  that 
religion    would    have   him    to    be — a  man 
weaned   from  the  littleness  of  the  paltry 
scene   that   is   around   him — soaring   high 
above  all  the  evanescence  of  things  present, 
and  things  sensible — and  transferring  every 
affection  of  ids  soul  to  the  durabilities  of  a 
pure  and  immortal  region.     It  were  better 
if  this  high   state  of  occasional  impress- 
ment on  the  matters  of  time  and  of  eternity, 
had  only  the  effect  of  imposing  the  false- 
hood   on   others,  that    man    who    was  so 
touched  and  so  transported,  had  on   that 
single  account  the  temper  of  a  candidate 
for  heaven.     Hut  the  falsehood  takes  pos- 
session of  his   own   heart.     The  man   is 
pleased  with  his  emotions  and  his  tears — 
and  the  interpretation  he  puts  upon  them 
is,  that  they  come  out  of  the  fullness  of  a 


heart  all  alive  to  religion,  and  sensibly  af- 
fected with  its  charms,  and  its  seriousness, 
and  its  principle.  Now,  my  brethren,  I  will 
venture  to  say,  that  there  may  be  a  world 
of  all  this  kind  of  enthusiasm,  with  the 
very  man  who  is  not  moving  a  single  step 
towards  that  blessed  eternity,  over  which 
his  fancy  delights  to  expatiate.     The  mov- 
ing representation  of  the  preacher  may  be 
listened  to  as  a  pleasant  song — and  the  en- 
tertained hearer  return  to  all  the  inveterate 
habits  of  one  of  the  children  of  this  world. 
It  is  this,  my  brethren,  which  makes  me 
fear  that  a  power  of  deceitfulness  may  ac- 
company the  eloquence  of  the  pulpit — that 
the  wisdom  of  words  may  defeat  the  great 
object  of  a  practical  work  upon  the  con- 
science— that  a  something  short  of  a  real 
business  change  in  the  heart,  and  in  the 
principles  of  acting,  may  satisfy  the  man 
who  listens,  and  admires,  and  resigns  his 
every  feeling  to  the  magic  of  an  impressive 
description — that,    strangely    compounded 
beings  as  we  are,  broken  loose  from  God, 
and  proving  it  by  the  habitual  voidness  of 
our  hearts  to  a  sense  of  his  authority,  and 
of  his  will ;  that,  blind  to  the  realities  of  an- 
other world,  and  slaves  to  the  wretched  in- 
fatuation which  makes  us  cleave  with  the 
full  bent  of  our  affections  to  the  one  by 
which  we  are  visibly  and  immediately  sur- 
rounded ;  that   utterly   unable,  by  nature, 
to  live  above  the  present  scene,  while  its 
cares,  and  its  interests  are  plying  ui  every 
hour  with  their  urgency ;  that  the  prey  of 
evil  passions  which  darken  and  distract  the 
inner  man,  and  throw  us  at  a  wider  dis- 
tance from  the  holy  Being  who  forbids  the 
indulgence  of  them ;  and  yet  with  all  this 
weight  of  corruption  about  us,  having  minds 
that  can  seize  the  vastness  of  some  great 
conception,  and  can  therefore  rejoice  in  the 
expanding  loftiness  of  its  own  thoughts,  as 
it  dwells  on  the  wonders  of  eternity ;  and 
having  hearts  that  can  move  to  the  impulse 
of  a  tender  consideration,  and  can,  there- 
fore, sadden  into  melancholy  at  the  dark 
picture  of  death,  and  its  unrelenting  cruel- 
ties ;  and  having  fancies  that  can  brighten 
to  the  cheerful  colouring  of  some  pleasing 
and  hopeful  representation,  and  can,  there- 
fore, be  soothed  and  animated  when  some 
sketch   is  laid   before  it  of  a  pious  family 
emerging  from  a  common  sepulchre,  and 
on  the  morning  of  their  joyful  resurrection, 
forgetting  all  the  sorrows  and  separations 
of  the  dark  world  that  has  now  rolled  over 
them — O,  my  brethren,  we  fear,  we  greatly 
fear  it,  that  while  busied  with  topics  such 
as  these,  many  a  hearer  may  weep,  or  be 
elevated,  or  take  pleasure  in  the  touching 
imagery  that  is  made  to  play  around  him, 
while  the  dust  of  this  perishable  earth  is  all 
that  his  soul  cleaves  to ;  and  its  cheating 
vanities  are  all  that  his  heart  cares  for,  or 
his  footsteps  follow  after. 


294 


ON  THE  UNIVERSALITY  OF  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 


[SERM. 


The  thing  is  not  merely  possible — but  we 
see  in  it  a  stamp  of  likelihood  to  all  that 
experience  tells  us  of  the  nature  or  the 
habitudes  of  man.  Is  there  no  such  thing  as 
his  having  a  taste  for  the  beauties  of  land- 
scape, and,  at  the  same  time,  turning  with 
disgust  from  what  he  calls  the  methodism 
of  peculiar  Christianity?  Might  not  he  be 
an  admirer  of  poetry,  and  at  the  same  time, 
nauseate  with  his  whole  heart,  the  doctrine 
and  the  language  of  the  New  Testament? 
Might  not  he  have  a  fancy  that  can  be  re- 
galed by  some  fair  and  well-formed  vision 
of  immortality — and,  at  the  same  time,  have 


no  practical  hardihood  whatever  for  the  ex- 
ercise of  labouring  in  the  prescribed  way 
after  the  meat  that  endureth?  Surely,  sure- 
ly, this  is  all  very  possible — and  it  is  just  as 
possible,  and  many  we  believe  to  be  the  in- 
stances we  have  of  it  in  real  life,  when  an 
eloquent  description  of  heaven  is  exquisitely 
felt,  and  wakens  in  the  bosom  the  raptures 
of  the  sincerest  admiration,  among  those 
who  feel  an  utter  repugnancy  to  the  heaven 
of  the  Bible — and  are  not  moving  a  single 
inch  through  the  narrowness  of  the  path 
which  leads  to  it. 


SERMON  VI. 
On  the  Universality  of  spiritual  Blindness, 

"  Stay  yourselves,  and  wonder ;  cry  ye  out,  and  cry  :  they  are  drunken,  but  not  with  wine  ;  they  stagger,  but 
not  with  strong  drink.  For  the  Lord  hath  poured  out  upon  you  the  spirit  of  deep  sleep,  and  hath  closed 
your  eyes  :  the  prophets  and  your  rulers,  the  seers  hath  he  covered.  And  the  vision  of  all  is  become  unto 
you  as  the  words  of  a  book  that  is  sealed,  which  men  deliver  to  one  that  is  learned,  saying,  Read  this,  I 
pray  thee:  and  he  saith,  I  cannot;  for  it  is  sealed.  And  the  book  is  delivered  to  him  that  is  not  learned, 
saying,  Read  this,  I  pray  thee :  and  he  saith,  I  am  not  learned." — Isaiah  sxix.  9 — 12. 


What  is  affirmed  in  these  verses  of  a 
vision  and  prophecy,  holds  so  strikingly 
true  of  God's  general  revelation  to  the 
world,  that  we  deem  the  lesson  contained 
in  them  to  be  not  of  partial,  but  permanent 
application — and  we  therefore  proceed  im- 
mediately, to  the  task  of  addressing  this  les- 
son, both  to  the  learned  and  unlearned  of 
the  present  day. 

Let  me,  in  the  first  place,  dwell  for  a  little 
on  the  complaints  which  are  uttered  by 
these  two  classes  respecting  the  hidden  and 
impenetrable  character  of  the  book  of  God's 
communication — and,  in  the  second  place, 
try  to  explain  the  nature  of  that  sleep  which 
is  upon  both,  and  in  virtue  of  which  both 
are  alike  in  a  state  of  practical  blindness  to 
the  realities  of  the  divine  word — and,  in  the 
third  place,  raise  a  short  application  upon 
the  whole  argument. 

I.  There  is  a  complaint  uttered  in  these 
verses,  first  by  the  learned — and,  secondly, 
by  the  unlearned — and  we  shall  consider 
each  of  them  in  order. 

1st.  If  a  book  be  closed  down  by  a  ma- 
terial seal,  then,  till  that  seal  be  broken, 
there  lies  a  material  obstacle  even  in  the 
way  of  him  who  is  able  to  read  the  contents 
of  it.  And  we  have  no  doubt,  that  the  pos- 
session of  the  art  of  reading  would  form  the 
most  visible  and  prominent  distinction,  be- 
tween the  learned  and  the  unlearned  in  the 
days  of  Isaiah.  But  it  no  longer,  at  least  in 
our  country,  forms  the  distinction  between 
these  two  classes.  Many  a  man  who  can 
barely  read  in  these  days,  will  still  say,  and 
say  with  truth,  that  he  is  not  learned.    We 


must  now  therefore  strike  a  higher  mark  of 
distinction — and,  in  reference  to  the  Bible, 
such  a  mark  can  be  specified.  This  book  is 
often  made  the  subject  of  a  much  higher 
exercise  of  scholarship  than  the  mere  read- 
ing of  it.  It  may  be  read  in  its  original  lan- 
guages. It  may  be  the  theme  of  many  a 
laborious  commentary.  The  light  of  con- 
temporaneous history  may  be  made  to  shine 
upon  it,  by  the  diligence  of  an  exploring  an- 
tiquarian. Those  powers  and  habits  of  criti- 
cism, which  are  of  so  much  avail  towards 
the  successful  elucidation  of  the  mind  and 
meaning  of  other  authors,  may  all  be  trans- 
ferred to  that  volume  of  which  God  is  the 
author — and  what,  after  all  this,  it  may  be 
asked,  is  the  seal  or  the  obstacle  which 
stands  in  the  way  of  learned  men  of  our 
present  generation  ?  How  is  it  that  any  of 
them  can  now  join  in  the  complaint  of  their 
predecessors,  in  the  days  of  Isaiah — and 
say,  I  cannot  read  this  book  because  it  is 
sealed?  Or,  is  there  any  remaining  hin- 
drance still,  in  virtue  of  which,  the  critics, 
and  the  grammarians,  and  the  accomplished 
theologians  of  our  age,  are  unable  to  reach 
the  real  and  effective  understanding  of  the 
words  of  this  prophecy? 

Yes,  my  brethren,  there  is  such  an  ob- 
struction as  you  now  inquire  after — and  it 
is  wonderful  to  tell,  how  little  the  mere 
erudition  of  Scripture  helps  the  real  dis- 
cernment of  Scripture — how  it  may  be  said, 
of  many  of  its  most  classical  expounders, 
that  though  having  eyes,  they  see  not,  and 
though  having  ears,  they  hear  not — how 
doctrine,  which  if  actually  perceived  and 


VI.] 


ON  THE  UNIVERSAHTY  OF  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 


295 


credited,  would  bring  the  realities  of  an 
eternal  world  to  bear  with  effect  upon  their 
conduct,  is,  operatively  speaking,  just  as 
weak  as  if  they  did  not  apprehend  it  even 
in  its  literal  signilicancy — how  the  mere 
verbiage  of  the  matter  is  all  in  which  they 
appear  to  be  conversant,  without  any  actual 
hold  of  sight,  or  of  conviction,  on  the  sub- 
stance of  the  matter— how  dexterously  they 
can  play  at  logic  with  the  terms  of  the  com- 
munication, and  how  dimly  and  deficiently 
they  apprehend  the  truths  of  it — how,  after 
having  exhausted  the  uttermost  resources 
of  scholarship  on  the  attempt  of  forcing  an 
entrance  into  the  region  of  spiritual  mani- 
festation, they  only  find  themselves  labour- 
ing at  a  threshold  of  height  and  of  difficulty, 
which  they  cannot  scale — how,  as  if  struck 
with  blindness,  like  the  men  of  Sodom,  they 
weary  themselves  in  vain  to  find  the  door — 
and  after  having  reared  their  stately  argu- 
mentation about  the  message  of  peace,  they 
have  no  faith;  about  the  doctrine  of  godli- 
ness, they  have  no  godliness. 

And  it  is  not  enough  to  say,  that  all  this 
is  not  due  to  the  want  of  discernment,  but 
to  the  want  of  power — for  the  power  lies  in 
the  truth — and  the  truth  has  only  to  be  seen 
or  believed,  that  it  may  have  the  power. 
The  reflection  may  never  have  occurred  to 
you — but  it  is  not  the  less  just  on  that  ac- 
count, how  little  of  actual  faith  there  is  in 
the  world.  Many  call  it  a  mere  want  of  im- 
pression. We  call  it  a  want  of  belief.  Did 
we  really  believe,  that  there  was  a  God  in 
existence — did  we  really  believe,  that  with 
the  eye  of  a  deeply  interested  judge,  he  was 
now  scrutinizing  all  the  propensities  of  our 
heart,  and  appreciating,  with  a  view  to  fu- 
ture retribution,  all  the  actions  of  our  his- 
tory— did  we  really  believe,  that  sin  was  to 
him  thai  hateful  enemy  with  which  he 
could  keep  no  terms,  and  to  which  he  could 
give  no  quarter;  and  that  with  every  indi- 
vidual who  had  fallen  into  it,  either  in  its 
guilt  it  must  be  expiated,  and  in  its  presence 
be  finally  done  away,  or  the  burden  of  a 
righteous  vengeance  would  rest  upon  his 
person  through  eternity — did  we  really  be- 
lieve, that  in  these  circumstances  of  deepest 
urgency,  a  way  of  redemption  has  been  de- 
vised, and  thai  to  all  whom  the  tidings  of  it 
had  reached  the  offer  of  deliverance,  both 
from  sin  in  its  condemnation,  and  from  sin 
in  its  power,  was  made,  through  the  atoning 
blood  and  sanctifying  spirit  of  a  complete 
and  omnipotent  Saviour-— did  we  really  be- 
lieve, that  such  an  offer  was  lying  at  the 
door  of  every  individual,  and  that  his  reli- 
ance upon  its  honesty  constituted  his  ac- 
ceptance of  the  offer — did  we  really  believe, 
that  throughout  the  fugitive  period  of  our 
abode  in  this  world,  which  was  so  soon  to 
pass  away,  God  in  Christ  was  beseeching 
every  one  of  us  to  reconciliation;  and  even 
now,  as  if  at  the  place  of  breaking  forth,  was 


ready  to  begin  that  great  renewing  process 
whereby  there  is  made  a  commencement  of 
holiness  upon  earth,  and  a  consummation 
both  of  holiness  and  happiness  in  heaven- 
were  these,  which  we  all  know  to  be  the 
truths  of  Christianity,  actually  believed,  the 
power  of  them  upon  our  hearts  would  come, 
and  come  immediately,  in  the  train  of  the 
perception  of  them  by  our  understandings. 
If  we  remain  unquickened  by  the  utterance 
of  them,  it  is  because,  in  the  true  sense  of 
the  term,  we  remain  unconvinced  by  them. 
The  utterance  of  them  may  be  heard  as  a 
very  pleasant  song — and  the  representation 
of  them  be  viewed  as  a  very  lovely  picture 
— but  the  force  of  a  felt  and  present  reality 
is  wanting  to  the  whole  demonstration.  And 
all  that  reason  can  do  is  to  adjust  the  steps 
of  the  demonstration — and  all  that  eloquence 
can  do,  is  to  pour  forth  the  utterance — and 
all  that  conception  can  do  is  to  furnish  its 
forms  and  its  colouring  to  the  picture.  And 
after  learning  has  thus  lavished  on  the  task 
the  whole  copiousness  of  its  manifold  in- 
gredients, may  we  behold  in  the  person  of 
its  proudest  votary,  that  his  Christianity  to 
him  is  nothing  better  than  an  aerial  phan- 
tom— that  it  is  of  as  little  operation  in  dis- 
posting  sense,  and  nature,  and  ungodliness 
from  his  heart,  as  if  it  were  but  a  nonentity, 
or  a  nam( — that  to  his  eye  a  visionary  dim- 
ness hangs  over  the  whole  subject  matter 
of  the  testimony  of  the  Bible — and  still  un- 
translated into  the  life,  and  the  substance, 
and  the  reality  of  these  things,  he  may  join 
in  the  complaint  of  the  text,  as  if  they  lay 
sealed  in  deepest  obscurity  from  his  con- 
templation. 

Make  what  you  like  in  the  way  of  argu- 
ment, of  so  many  simple  conceptions,  if  the 
conceptions  themselves  do  not  carry  the 
impress  of  vividness  and  reality  along  with 
them — the  reasoning,  of  which  they  form 
the  materials,  may  be  altogether  faultless — 
and  the  doctrine  in  which  it  terminates,  be 
held  forth  as  altogether  impregnable — yet 
will  it  share  in  all  the  obscurity  which  at- 
taches to  the  primary  elements  of  its  forma- 
tion— and  while  nature  can  manage  the 
logical  process  which  leads  from  the  first 
simple  ideas,  to  the  ultimate  and  made-out 
conclusion,  she  cannot  rid  herself  of  the 
dimness  in  which,  to  her  unrenewed  eye, 
the  former  stand  invested;  and  she  must, 
therefore,  leave  the  latter  in  equal  dimness. 

The  learned  just  labour  as  helplessly  un- 
der a  want  of  an  impression  of  the  reality 
of  this  whole  matter,  as  the  unlearned — and 
if  this  be  true  of  those  among  them,  who, 
with  learning  and  nothing  more,  have  ac- 
tuallv  tried  to  decipher  the  meaning  of 
God's  communication — if  this  be  true  of 
many  a  priest  and  many  a  theologian,  with 
whom  Christianity  is  a  science,  and  the 
study  of  the  Bible  is  the  labour  and  the 
business  of  their  profession — what  can  we 


296 


ON  THE  UNIVERSALITY  OF  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 


[SERM. 


expect  of  those  among  the  learned,  who,  in 
the  pursuits  of  a  secular  philosophy,  never 
enter  into  contact  with  the  Bible,  either  in  its 
doctrine  or  in  its  language,  except  when  it 
is  obtruded  on  them  ?  Little  do  they  know 
of  our  men  of  general  literature,  who  have 
not  observed  the  utter  listlessness,  if  not 
the  strong  and  active  contempt  wherewith 
many  of  them  hear  the  doctrine  of  the  book 
of  God's  counsel  uttered  in  the  phraseology 
of  that  book — how,  in  truth,  their  secret 
impression  of  the  whole  matter  is,  that  it  is 
a  piece  of  impenetrable  mysticism — how, 
in  their  eyes,  there  is  a  cast  of  obscurity 
over  all  the  peculiarities  of  the  Gospel — and 
if  asked  to  give  their  attention  thereto,  they 
promptly  repel  the  imposition  under  the 
feeling  of  a  hopeless  and  insuperable  dark- 
ness, which  sits  in  obsolete  characters  over 
the  entire  face  of  the  evangelical  record. 
There  may  be  bright  and  cheering  exam- 
ples to  the  contrary,  of  men  in  the  highest 
of  our  literary  walks,  who,  under  a  peculiar 
teaching,  have  learned  what  they  never 
learned  from  all  the  lessons  of  the  academy. 
But  apart  from  this  peculiar  influence,  be 
assured  that  learning  is  of  little  avail.  The 
sacred  page  may  wear  as  hieroglyph ical  an 
aspect  to  the  lettered,  as  to  the  unlettered. 
It  lies  not  with  any  of  the  powers  or  pro- 
cesses of  ordinary  education  to  dissipate 
that  blindness,  wherewith  the  god  of  this 
world  hath  blinded  the  mind  of  him  who 
believes  not.  To  make  the  wisdom  of  the 
New  Testament  his  wisdom,  and  its  spirit 
his  spirit,  and  its  language  his  best-loved 
and  best-understood  language,  there  must 
be  a  higher  influence  upon  the  mind,  than 
what  lies  in  human  art,  or  in  human  expla- 
nation. And  till  this  is  brought  to  pass,  the 
doctrine  of  the  atonement,  and  the  doctrine 
of  regeneration,  and  the  doctrine  of  fellow- 
ship with  the  Father  and  the  Son,  and  the 
doctrine  of  a  believer's  progressive  holiness, 
under  the  moral  and  spiritual  power  of  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  will,  as  to  his  own 
personal  experience  of  its  meaning,  remain 
so  many  empty  sounds,  or  so  many  deep 
and  hidden  mysteries — and  just  as  effectu- 
ally, as  if  the  book  were  held  together  by 
an  iron  clasp,  which  he  has  not  strength  to 
unclose,  may  he  say  of  the  same  book  lying 
open  and  legible  before  him,  that  he  cannot 
read  it,  because  it  is  sealed. 

2.  So  much  for  the  complaint  of  the 
learned;  and  as  for  the  complaint  of  the 
unlearned,  it  happily,  in  the  literal  sense  of 
it,  is  not  applicable  to  the  great  majority  of 
our  immediate  countrymen,  even  in  the 
very  humblest  walks  of  society.  They  can 
put  together  its  letters,  and  pronounce  its 
words,  and  make  a  daily  exercise,  if  they 
choose,  of  one  or  more  of  its  chapters. 
They  have  learning  enough  to  carry  them 
thus  far,  but  not  so  far  as  to  keep  them  from 
joining  the  unlearned  of  my  text  in  the 


complaint  that  I  am  not  learned.  They 
cannot,  for  example,  estimate  the  criticism 
of  many  an  expounder.  They  have  not 
time  to  traverse  the  weary  extent  of  many  a 
ponderous  and  elaborate  commentary.  And 
those  who  have  had  much  of  Christian  in- 
tercourse with  the  poor,  must  have  re- 
marked the  effect  which  their  sense  of  this 
inferiority  has  upon  many  an  imagination 
— how  it  is  felt  by  not  a  few  of  them,  that 
they  labour  under  a  hopeless  disadvantage, 
because  they  want  the  opportunities  of  a 
higher  and  a  more  artificial  scholarship,  and 
that  if  they  could  only  get  nearer  to  their 
teachers  in  respect  of  literary  attainment, 
they  would  be  nearer  that  wisdom  which  is 
unto  salvation,  and  that  though  they  can 
read  the  book  in  the  plainest  sense  of  the 
term,  they  cannot  read  it  with  any  saving 
or  salutary  effect,  just  because,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  my  text,  they  say  that  they  are 
not  learned.  And  thus  it  is.  that  the  man 
who  has  the  literary  accomplishments  after 
which  they  sigh,  meets  with  two  distinct 
exhibitions  to  instruct  and  to  humble  him. 
The  first  is,  when  the  poor  look  up  to  him 
as  to  one  who,  because  he  has  the  scholar- 
ship of  Christianity,  must  have  the  saving 
knowledge  of  it  also,  when  he  intimately 
feels  that  the  luminary  of  science  may 
shine  full  upon  him,  while  not  one  ray  to 
cheer  or  to  enlighten,  may  pass  into  his 
heart  from  the  luminary  of  the  Gospel. 
The  second  is,  when  he  observes  among 
the  poor,  those  who  live,  and  who  rejoice 
under  the  power  of  a  revelation,  to  which 
himself  is  a  stranger,  those  who  can  dis- 
cern a  beauty  and  an  evidence  in  the  doc- 
trine of  Christ,  which  have  never  beamed 
with  full  radiance  upon  his  own  under- 
standing— those  whose,  feelings  and  whose 
experience  move  in  a  consonancy  with  the 
truths  of  the  New  Testament,  which,  in  his 
own  experience,  he  never  felt — those  whose 
daily  path  bespeaks  the  guidance  of  a  wis- 
dom which  never  yet  shone  upon  his  own 
way,  and  who  are  blest  with  a  peace  and  a 
joy  in  believing,  which  have  never  found 
entrance  into  his  own  desolate  bosom. 

This  gives  us  a  new  sight  of  the  pecu- 
liarity which  lies  in  the  Bible — and  by 
which  it  stands  distinguished  from  all  other 
compositions.  There  may  remain  a  seal 
upon  its  meaning  to  him,  who,  in  the  ordi- 
nary sense  of  the  term,  is  learned,  while  the 
seal  may  be  removed,  and  the  meaning  lie 
open  as  the  light  of  day  to  him,  who  in  the 
same  sense  is  unlearned.  It  may  come  with 
all  the  force  of  a  felt  and  perceived  reality 
upon  the  one,  while  the  reality  is  not  per- 
ceived, and  therefore  not  felt  by  the  other. 
To  the  man  of  literary  accomplishment,  the 
report  of  eternal  things  may  reach  no  other 
influence  than  that  of  a  sound  upon  his  ear, 
or  of  a  shadowy  representation  upon  the 
eye  of  his  fancy.     To  the  unlettered  work- 


v,  I 


ON  THE  UNIVERSALITY  OF  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 


297 


man,  it  may  reach  an  influence  as  substan 
tial  and  as  practical,  as  the  report  of  to-mor- 
row's work,  or  to-morrow's  wages.  The 
latter  may  be  led  to  shape  his  actual  mea- 
sures hy  the  terms  of  the  message  of  reve- 
lation. The  former  may  lavish  all  the 
powers  of  science,  and  subtlety,  and  specu- 
lation upon  the  terms — and  yet  be  as  un- 
ouched  in  his  personal  habits  by  all  the  in- 
formation which  it  lays  before  him,  as  if 
the  message  were  untrue.  It  is  not  learn- 
ing that  has  made  the  difference;  for  the 
veil  may  be  upon  the  eyes  of  him  who  is 
rich  in  this  acquirement,  while  it  is  taken 
away  from  him  who,  in  respect  of  scholar- 
ship, is  poor,  and  blind,  and  destitute. 
There  is  not  a  single  weapon  in  the  whole 
armoury  of  human  learning,  by  which  the 
proudest  of  its  votaries  can  force  his  en- 
trance into  a  region  of  spiritual  manifesta- 
tion. The  wise  and  prudent  cannot,  on  the 
strength  of  any  of  their  own  peculiar  re- 
sources, they  cannot,  with  all  their  putting 
forth  of  desire  and  energy,  attain  unto  those 
things  which  are  revealed  unto  babes. 
There  is  a  barrier  here  against  which  all 
the  machinery  of  the  schools  may  be  made 
to  play  without  effect.  And  it  would  look 
as  if  argument  might  as  soon  remove  the 
film  from  the  eye  of  him  who  labours  un- 
der a  natural  blindness,  as  dissipate  that 
thick  and  impalpable  obscurity  which  lies 
in  the  way  of  all  spiritual  discernment. 

There  are  two  immediate  uses  to  which 
all  this  may  be  rendered  subservient.  The 
first,  to  rebuke  the  poor  for  an  apology 
which  they  are  sometimes  heard  to  make, 
when  convicted  of  blindness  and  ignorance 
in  regard  to  the  essential  truths  of  Chris- 
tianity. The  second,  while  we  do  not  sus- 
tain the  apology,  to  encourage  them  with 
the  assurance,  that  it  is  just  as  competent 
for  them  to  be  wise  unto  salvation,  as  for 
those  in  the  higher  and  more  cultivated 
walks  of  human  society. 

In  pressing  home  the  truths  and  over- 
tures of  Christianity  on  the  poor,  we  often 
meet  with  the  very  answer  of  the  text,  "I 
am  not  learned."  This  answer  is  not  co- 
pied by  them  from  the  text.  But  the  text, 
true  as  the  Bible  strikingly  and  universally 
is,  in  all  its  descriptions  of  Nature,  copied  it 
from  them.  It  is  in  truth  a  very  frequent 
conception  among  them,  that  had  they  the 
advantages  of  a  higher  scholarship  than 
what  they  actually  possess,  they  would  be 
nearer  I  lie  wisdom  which  is  unto  salvation. 
This  ministers  a  kind  of  false  security  to 
their  hearts,  under  the  consciousness  of  a 
lack  of  knowledge,  and  that  too  of  vital  ne- 
cessity to  their  immortal  well-being.  They 
think  that  there  is  an  ignorance  which  ne- 
cessity attaches  to  their  condition  ;  and  that 
this  should  alleviate  the  burden  of  their 
condemnation,  in  that  they  know  not  God. 
They  spend  the  day  in  drudgery,  and  think, 
38 


that  on  this  account,  they  must  a  so  spend 
it  in  a  state  of  desolation,  as  to  the  whole 
light  and  learning  of  the  Gospel.  They 
are  apt  to  look  upon  it,  not  as  their  fault, 
but  as  their  doom,  that  they  are  strangers 
to  the  doctrine  of  peace  and  of  righteous- 
ness ;  and  often  regard  it  to  be  as  effectual 
a  plea  for  justifying  their  ignorance  of 
what,  is  sacred,  as  of  what  is  profane  and 
secular,  that  they  are  not  learned. 

Now  we  refuse  this  apology  altogether  ; 
and  we  should  like  to  warn  you  in  times 
that  it  will  stand  you  in  no  stead,  nor  be  of 
any  avail  to  you  in  the  day  df  reckoning. 
The  word  of  the  Lord  is  in  your  hands,  and 
you  can  at  least  read  it.  The  candle  of  the 
Lord  may  be  lighted  in  your  hearts,  and 
you  can  at  least  pray  for  it.  The  Gospel 
is  preached  unto  you  as  well  as  unto  others; 
and  you  can  at  least  attend  to  it.  There 
will  no  incurable  darkness,  settle  upon  your 
minds,  unless  you  love  the  darkness.  There 
will  no  fixed  and  obstinate  unbelief  adhere 
to  your  understandings,  unless  your  deeds 
are  evil.  This  will  be  your  condemnation, 
if  you  are  found  to  be  without  knowledge 
and  without  faith.  But  be  assured,  that  all 
the  aids  and  promises  of  Christianity  are 
unto  you  as  well  as  unto  others;  and  if 
you  grieve  not  the  spirit  by  your  wilful 
resistance — if  you  put  not  at  a  distance 
from  you  that  Holy  Ghost  which  is  given 
to  those  who  obey  him,  by  your  disobe- 
dience— if  you  despise  not  the  grace  of  God 
by  your  daily  and  habitual  neglect  of  those 
mercies — in  the  use  of  which  alone,  God 
undertakes  to  meet  you  with  its  influences 
— then  be  assured,  that  all  the  comforts  of 
the  Gospel,  and  all  its  high  and  heavenly 
anticipations,  will  descend  more  richly 
upon  you,  than  upon  the  noble  and  wealthy 
of  our  land  ;  and  let  your  work  through  the 
week  be  what  it  may,  there  is  not  an  hour 
of  it  which  may  not  be  sweetened  by  a 
blessing  from  above,  which  may  not  be  re- 
galed and  heightened  into  rapture  by  the 
smile  of  a  present  Deity. 

It  is  not  merely  to  blame  you,  that  we 
thus  speak.  It  is  further  to  encourage  you, 
my  friends,  and  that,  by  an  assurance 
which  we  cast  abroad  among  you,  and  that, 
too,  with  all  the  confidence  of  one  who  has 
the  warrant  of  inspiration.  The  knowledge 
which  is  life  everlasting,  is  just  as  accessible 
to  the  poor,  as  it  is  to  the  rich,  who  have 
time  to  prosecute,  and  money  to  purchase 
education.  Whatever  the  barrier  may  be, 
which  rises  as  a  wall  of  separation  between 
Nature  and  the  Gospel,  it  is  just  as  impene- 
trable to  the  learned  as  it  is  to  the  unlearned 
— and  however  the  opening  through  that 
barrier  is  made,  it  is  made  as  often  and 
oftener,  for  the  purpose  of  sending  a  beam 
of  spiritua1  light  into  the  heart  of  the  latter, 
than  into  the  heart  of  the  former.  The  Gos- 
pel may  as  effectually  be  preached  unto  the 


298 


ON  THE  UNIVERSALITY  OF  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 


[SERM. 


poor  as  unto  the  wealthy.  Simply  grant  to 
the  one  the  capacity  of  reading,  and  the  op- 
portunity of  hearing,  and  he  is,  at  the  very 
least,  in  as  fair  circumstances  for  becoming 
one  of  the  children  of  light  as  the  other.  In 
respect  to  human  science,  there  is  a  distinc- 
tion between  them.  In  respect  of  the  gos- 
pel, that  distinction  is  utterly  levelled  and 
done  away.  Whatever  the  incapacity  of 
Nature  be  for  the  lessons  and  the  light  of 
revelation,  it  is  not  learning,  commonly  so 
called,  which  resolves  the  incapacity ;  and 
until  that  peculiar  instrument  be  actually 
put  forth  which  can  alone  resolve  it,  the 
book  of  revelation  may  pass  and  repass 
among  them  ;  the  one  complaining  that  he 
cannot  read  it,  because  he  is  not  learned ; 
the  other  equally  complaining  that  he  cannot 
read  it,  because  it  is  sealed. 

II.  Let  us  now  proceed,  in  the  second 
place,  to  explain  a  circumstance  which 
stands  associated  in  our  text,  with  the  in- 
capacity both  of  learned  and  unlearned,  to 
discover  the  meaning  of  God's  communica- 
tions ;  and  that  is  the  spirit  of  a  deep  sleep 
which  had  closed  the  eyes  of  the  people, 
and  buried  in  darkness  and  insensibility  the 
prophets,  and  the  rulers,  and  the  seers,  as 
well  as  the  humblest  and  most  ignorant  of 
the  land. 

The  connexion  between  the  one  circum- 
stance and  the  other  is  quite  palpable.  If 
a  peasant  and  a  philosopher,  for  example, 
were  both  literally  asleep  before  me,  and 
that  so  profoundly,  as  that  no  voice  of  mine 
could  awaken  them;  then  they  are  just  in 
the  same  circumstances,  with  regard  to  any 
demonstration  which  I  address  to  their  un- 
derstandings. The  powers  and  acquire- 
ments of  the  latter  would  be  of  no  avail  to 
him  in  such  a  case.  They  are  in  a  state  of 
dormancy,  and  that  is  just  as  firm  an  ob- 
stacle in  the  way  of  my  reasoning,  or  of 
my  information,  as  if  they  were  in  a  state 
of  non-existence.  Neither  would  it  at  all 
help  the  conveyance  of  my  meaning  to 
their  mind,  that  while  dead  to  all  percep- 
tion of  the  argument  which  issued  from  my 
lips,  or  even  of  the  sound  which  is  its  vehi- 
cle, the  minds  of  both  of  them  were  most 
busily  alive  and  active  amongst  the  ima- 
gery of  a  dream ;  the  one  dreaming  too, 
perhaps,  in  the  style  of  some  high  intellec- 
tual pursuit ;  and  the  other  dreaming  in  the 
style  of  some  common  and  illiterate  occu- 
pation. Such,  indeed,  may  be  the  intoxica- 
tion of  their  fancy,  that  in  respect  of  mental 
delirium,  they  may  be  said  to  be  drunken, 
but  not  with  wine,  and  to  stagger,  but  not 
with  strong  drink.  Still,  though  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  text,  I  should  cry  out,  and  cry, 
it  may  be  just  as  difficult  to  awaken  them 
to  a  sense  of  what  I  am  saying,  out  of  a 
reverie  of  imagination,  as  it  is  to  awaken 
them  out  of  a  simple  and  unconscious  slum- 
ber.   Nay,  the  very  engagement  of  their 


fancy,  with  its  ever-floating  and  aerial  pic- 
tures, may  have  the  effect  of  more  strongly 
detaining  the  mind  from  the  call  which  I 
vainly  lift,  for  the  purpose  of  arousing  them. 
And  as  the  visionary  scenes,  whether  of 
bliss,  or  of  anxiety,  or  of  sadness,  or  of  eagei 
pursuit,  or  of  bright  or  of  fearful  anticipation, 
pass  successively  before  them,  the  reality 
of  my  waking  address  may  fall  unheeded 
upon  each  ;  and  though  the  one  be  learned, 
and  the  other  be  unlearned,  it,  in  respect  of 
their  listening  to  me,  and  their  understand 
ing  of  me,  totally  annuls  this  difference  be- 
tween them,  that  their  eyes  are  firml} 
closed,  and  a  deep  sleep  is  poured  upon 
them  both. 

Such,  it  is  possible  to  conceive,  may  be 
the  profoundness  of  this  lethargy,  as  to  be 
unmoved  by  the  most  loud  and  terrifying 
intimations.  I  may  lift  this  note  of  alarm, 
that  a  fire  has  broken  out  in  the  premises, 
and  is  on  the  eve  of  bursting  into  their 
apartment — and  yet  such  may  be  the  death- 
like sleep  of  both,  that  both  may  lie  motion- 
less and  unconscious  on  the  very  confines 
of  their  approaching  dissolution.  Or,  what 
would  be  more  affecting  still,  both,  in  the 
airy  chase  of  their  own  imagination,  may 
be  fully  engrossed  among  the  pictures  and 
the  agitations  of  a  dream,  and  be  inwardly 
laughing,  or  crying,  or  striving,  or  pursuing, 
or  rejoicing ;  and  that,  while  the  flame  is  at 
their  door,  which  in  a  few  minutes  is  to 
seize  upon  and  to  destroy  them. 

When  a  man  is  asleep  and  dreaming,  he 
is  alive  only  to  his  own  fancies,  and  dead  to 
all  the  realities  of  the  visible  world  around 
him.  Awaken  him,  and  he  becomes  intel- 
ligent and  alive  to  these  realities,  but  there 
may  still  be  other  realities  to  which  he  is 
not  yet  awakened.  There  may  remain  a 
torpor  upon  his  faculties,  in  virtue  of  which, 
he  may  have  as  little  sense  and  as  little 
feeling  of  certain  near  and  impending  reali- 
ties, as  the  man  who  is  wrapt  in  the  insensi- 
bility of  his  midnight  repose  has  of  earth 
and  of  all  its  concerns.  The  report  of  an 
angry  God,  and  a  coming  eternity,  may  as 
little  disturb  him  as  the  report  of  a  confla- 
gration in  the  premises,  disturbs  the  sleep- 
ing inmate  before  he  is  awakened.  It  is  not 
learned  argument  which  works  out,  in  the 
one  case,  the  escape  of  him  who  is  in  dan- 
ger. Could  we  only  awaken  him,  we  would 
need  no  argument.  Neither  is  it  learned 
argument  which  works  out,  in  the  other 
case,  the  escape  of  him  who  is  in  danger.  It 
is  the  cry  of,  "Awake,  O  sinner,"  lifted  with 
power  enough  to  arouse  him  out  of  his  spi- 
ritual lethargies.  It  is  the  shaking  of  the 
soul  out  of  those  heavy  slumbers,  under 
which  it  is  weighed  down  to  deep  and  strong 
insensibility,  about  the  awful  urgencies  of 
guilt,  and  danger,  and  death,  by  which  it 
is  encompassed.  When  the  house  which 
covers  a  sleeping  peasant  and  a  sleeping 


•I.] 


ON  THE  UNIVERSALITY  OF  SPTRITUAL  ELINDNESS. 


299 


philosopher,  is  in  fl;imes,  it  is  not  by  a  de- 
monstration of  philosophy  that  the  one  is 
awakened,  and  the  other  is  left  to  perish  in 
the  ruin ;  and  when  both  are  awakened  by 
the  same  call,  it  is  not  at  the  bidding  of 
philosophy  that  the  one  hastens  his  escape, 
while  the  other  lingers  in  the  midst  of  de- 
struction. They  need  only  to  be  recovered 
to  the  use  of  senses  which  were  alike  sus- 
pended with  both,  that  both  may  flee  with 
equal  promptitude  from  the  besetting  ca- 
lamity.  And  the  same  of  the  coming 
wrath — the  same  of  the  consuming  fire, 
that  is  now  ready  to  burst  on  the  head  of 
the  guilty,  from  the  storehouse  of  treasured 
vengeance — the  same  of  all  the  surround- 
ing realities  of  God,  and  judgment,  and 
eternity,  winch  lie  on  every  side  of  us.  It 
is  not  philosophy  which  awakes  him  who 
has  it,  to  a  sense  of  these  things.  Neither 
is  it  the  want  of  philosophy  which  keeps 
him  who  has  it  not,  fast  asleep  among  the 
vanities  and  day-dreams  of  a  passing  world. 
All  the  powers  of  philosophy,  operating 
upon  all  the  materials  of  philosophy,  will 
never  dissolve  the  infatuation  of  him  who 
is  not  yet  aroused  either  from  the  slumbers, 
or  from  the  visions  of  carnality.  To  effect 
this,  there  must  be  either  the  bestowment 
of  a  new  sense,  or  the  restoration  of  an  old 
sense,  which  has  been  extinguished.  And 
be  he  learned  or  be  he  unlearned,  such  an 
awakening  as  this  will  tell  alike  upon  both. 
The  simple  view  of  certain  simple  realities, 
to  which  the  vast  majority  of  the  world  are 
asleep,  will  put  each  of  them  into  motion. 
And  when  his  eyes  are  once  opened  by  the 
force  of  such  a  demonstration,  will  he  either 
lice  from  the  coming  wrath,  or  flee  for  re- 
fuge to  the  hope  set  before  him  in  the  Gos- 
pelj  without  the  bidding  or  the  voice  of  phi- 
losophy to  speed  his  way. 

And  that  the  vast  majority  of  the  world 
are,  in  truth,  asleep  to  all  those  realities 
which  constitute  the  great  materials  of  re- 
ligion, may  be  abundantly  proved  by  ex- 
perience— and  we  cannot  proceed  far  in  the 
details  of  such  a  proof,  without  leading  many 
an  individual  hearer  to  carry  the  topic  home 
to  his  own  experience.  For  this  purpose, 
let  us  just  compare  the  kind  of  feeling  and 
perception  which  we  have  about  an  event 
that  may  happen  on  this  side  of  time,  with 
the  feeling  and  perception  about  an  event, 
as  nearly  similar  as  possible,  that  will  hap- 
pen on  the  other  side  of  time,  and  try  how 
much  it  is  that  we  are  awake  as  to  the  for- 
mer, and  asleep  as  to  the  latter.  Should  we 
assuredly  know,  that  in  a  few  years  we  are 
to  be  translated  into  a  splendid  affluence, 
or  sunk  into  the  most  abject  and  deplorable 
poverty,  how  keen  would  be  our  anticipa- 
tion, whether  of  hope  or  of  fear:  and  why  ? 
Because  we  are  awake  unto  these  things. 
We  do  assuredly  know,  that  in  a  few  years 
we  pass  that  mysterious  portal,  which  leads 


to  bliss,  or  pain,  or  annihilation — and  these 
are  certainties  which  we  do  not  keenly  an- 
ticipate, and  just  because  we  are  asleep  unto 
these  tilings.  Should  we  behold  a  neigh- 
bour on  the  same  path  of  enterprise  with 
ourselves,  suddenly  arrested  by  the  hand  of 
bankruptcy,  and  be  further  told  to  our  con- 
viction, that  the  same  fatality  is  sure  to  en- 
counter all  who  are  treading  that  path,  we 
would  retrace,  or  move  aside,  or  do  our  ut- 
most to  evade  it — because  all  awake  to  the 
disgrace  and  wretchedness  of  bankruptcy. 
We  every  month  behold  such  a  neighbour 
arrested  by  the  hand  of  death — nor  can  we 
escape  the  conviction,  that  sooner  or  later, 
he  will  cast  his  unfailing  weapon  at  our- 
selves ;  and  yet  no  one  practical  movement 
follows  the  conviction,  because  we  are  asleep 
to  a  sense  of  the  mighty  ruin  which  awaits 
us  from  unsparing  and  universal  mortality. 
Should  the  house  in  which  you  live,  be  en- 
tered with  violence  by  the  executioners  of  a 
tyrant's  will,  and  a  brother,  or  a  child,  be 
hurried  away  to  a  perpetual  dungeon — if 
made  to  know,  that  it  was  because  such  a 
doom  had  been  laid  upon  the  whole  family, 
and  that  sooner  or  later,  its  infliction  was 
most  surely  in  reserve  for  every  successive 
member  of  it — would  not  you  be  looking 
out  in  constant  terror,  and  live  in  constant 
insecurity,  and  prove  how  feelingly  you 
were  awake  to  a  sense  of  the  sufferings  of 
an  earthly  imprisonment?  But  though  death 
break  in  upon  our  dwelling,  and  lay  a  ruth- 
less grasp  on  the  dearest  of  its  inmates,  and 
leave  the  assurance  behind  him,  that  he  will 
not  cease  his  inroads  on  this  devoted  house- 
hold, till  he  has  swept  it  utterly  away — all 
we  know  of  the  loneliness  of  the  church- 
yard, and  all  we  read  of  the  unseen  horrors 
of  that  eternity  to  which  the  impenitent  and 
the  unbeliever  are  carried  by  the  ministers 
of  the  wrath  of  God,  fail  to  disturb  us  out 
of  the  habit  of  living  here,  as  if  here  we 
were  to  live  for  ever ;  and  that,  just  because 
while  awake  to  all  the  reality  which  lieth 
on  this  side  of  the  grave,  we  are  asleep  to 
the  consideration  both  of  the  grave  itself, 
and  of  all  the  reality  which  lies  beyond  it. 
Now,  the  question  comes  to  be,  how  is 
this  sleep  dissipated?  Not,  we  affirm,  and 
all  experience  will  go  along  with  us,  not  by 
the  power  of  natural  argument-- not  by  the 
demonstrations  of  human  learning,  for  these 
are  just  as  powerless  with  him  who  under- 
stands them,  as  with  him  who  makes  his 
want  of  learning  the  pretence  for  putting 
them  away— not  by  putting  the  old  mate- 
rials of  thought  into  a  new  arrangement— 
not  by  setting  such  things  as  the  eye  of 
Nature  can  see,  or  its  ear  can  hear,  or  its 
heart  can  conceive,  into  a  new  light— n<  it  by 
working  in  the  varied  processes  of  combi- 
nation, and  abstraction,  and  reasoning,  with 
such  simple  and  elementary  ideas  as  the 
mind  of  man  can  apprehend.    The  feelings 


300 


ON  THE  UNIVERSALITY  OF  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 


[SEKM. 


and  the  suggestions  of  all  our  old  senses 
put  together,  will  not  make  out  for  us  a 
practical  impression  of  the  matters  of  faith — 
and  there  must  be  a  transition  as  great  as 
that  by  which  man  awakens  out  of  the  sleep 
of  nature,  and  so  comes  to  see  the  realities 
of  Nature  which  are  around  him — there 
must  be  a  something  equivalent  to  the  com- 
munication of  a  new  sense,  ere  a  reality 
comes  to  be  seen  in  those  eternal  things, 
where  no  reality  was  felt  or  seen,  however 
much  it  may  have  been  acknowledged  be- 
fore. 

It  is  true,  that  along  the  course  of  our  or- 
dinary existence,  we  are  awake  to  the  con- 
cerns of  our  ordinary  existence.  But  this 
is  not  a  wakefulness  which  goes  to  disturb 
the  profoundness  of  our  insensibility,  as  to 
the  concerns  of  a  higher  existence.  We  are 
in  one  sense  awake,  but  in  another  most 
entirely,  and,  to  all  human  appearance, 
most  hopelessly  and  irrecoverably  asleep. 
We  are  just  in  the  same  condition  with  a 
man  who  is  dreaming,  and  so  moves  for  the 
time  in  a  pictured  world  of  his  own.  He 
is  not  steeped  in  a  more  death-like  indiffer- 
ence to  the  actual  and  the  peopled  world 
around  him,  than  the  man  who  is  busy  for 
the  short  and  fleeting  pilgrimage  of  his 
days  upon  earth,  among  its  treacherous  de- 
lusions, is  shut  in  all  his  sensibilities,  and 
all  his  thoughts,  against  the  certainties  of 
an  immortal  state.  And  the  transition  is 
not  greater  from  the  sleeping  fancies  of  the 
night  to  the  waking  certainties  of  our  daily 
business,  than  is  the  transition  from  the  day- 
dreams of  a  passing  world,  to  those  sub- 
stantial considerations,  which  wield  a  pre- 
siding authority  over  the  conduct  of  him 
who  walketh  not  by  the  sight  of  that  which 
is  around  him,  but  by  the  faith  of  the  unseen 
things  that  are  above  him,  and  before  him. 
To  be  thus  translated  in  the  habit  of  our 
mind,  is  beyond  the  power  of  the  most  busy 
and  intense  of  its  natural  exercises.  It 
needs  the  power  of  a  new  and  simple  mani- 
festation ;  and  as  surely  as  the  dreamer  on 
his  bed  behooves  to  be  awakened,  ere  he  be 
restored  to  a  just  sense  of  his  earthly  con- 
dition, and  of  his  earthly  circumstances,  so 
surely  must  there  be  a  distinct  awakening 
made  to  pass  on  the  dark,  and  torpid,  and 
overborne  faculties  of  us  all,  ere  the  matters 
of  faith  come  to  be  clothed  to  our  eye  in  the 
characters  of  certainty,  and  we  be  made 
truly  to  apprehend  the  bearing  in  which 
we  stand  to  the  God  who  is  now  looking 
over  us,  to  the  eternity  which  is  now  ready 
to  absorb  us. 

This  awakening  calls  for  a  peculiar  and 
a  preternatural  application  We  say  pre- 
ternatural, for  such  is  the  obstinacy  of  this 
sleep  of  nature,  that  no  power  within  the 
compass  of  nature  can  put  an  end  to  it.  It 
withstands  all  the  demonstrations  of  arith- 
metic.   Time  moves  on  without  disturbing 


it.  The  last  messenger  lifts  many  a  note  of 
preparation,  but  so  deep  is  the  lethargy  of 
our  text,  that  he  is  not  heard.  Every  year 
do  his  approaching  footsteps  become  more 
distinct  and  more  audible  ;  yet  every  year 
rivets  the  affections  of  the  votary  of  sense 
more  tenaciously  than  before,  to  the  scene 
that  is  around  him.  One  would  think,  that 
the  fall  of  so  many  acquaintances  on  every 
side  of  him,  might  at  length  have  reached 
an  awakening  conviction  into  his  heart. 
One  would  think,  that  standing  alone,  and  in 
mournful  survey  amid  the  wreck  of  former 
associations,  the  spell  might  have  been  alrea- 
dy broken,  which  so  fastens  him  to  a  perish- 
able world.  O,  why  were  the  tears  he  shed 
over  his  children's  grave,  not  followed  up  by 
the  deliverance  of  his  soul  from  this  sore 
infatuation  1  Why,  as  he  hung  over  the 
dying  bed  of  her  with  whom  he  had  so  oft 
taken  counsel  about  the  plans  and  the  in- 
terests of  life,  did  he  not  catch  a  glimpse 
of  this  world's  vanity,  and  did  not  the  light 
of  truth  break  in  upon  his  heart  from  the 
solemn  and  apprehended  realities  beyond 
it?  But  no.  The  enchantment,  it  would 
appear,  is  not  so  easily  dissolved.  The  deep 
sleep  which  the  Bible  speaks  of,  is  not  so 
easily  broken.  The  conscious  infirmities  of 
age  cannot  do  it.  The  frequent  and  touch- 
ing specimens  of  mortality  around  us,  can- 
not do  it.  The  rude  entrance  of  death  into 
our  own  houses,  and  the  breaking  up  of  our 
own  families,  cannot  do  it.  The  melting 
of  our  old  society  away  from  us,  and  fhe 
constant  succession  of  new  faces,  and  new 
families,  in  their  place,  cannot  do  it.  The 
tolling  of  the  funeral  bell,  which  has  rung 
so  many  of  our  companions  across  the  con- 
fines of  eternity,  and  in  a  few  little  years, 
will  perform  the  same  office  for  us,  cannot 
do  it.  It  often  happens,  in  the  visions  of 
the  night,  that  some  fancied  spectacle  of 
terror,  or  shriek  of  alarm,  have  frightened 
us  out  of  our  sleep,  and  our  dream  together. 
But  the  sleep  of  worldliness  stands  its 
ground  against  all  this.  We  hear  the  moan- 
ings  of  many  a  death-bed — and  we  witness 
its  looks  of  imploring  anguish — and  we 
watch  the  decay  of  life,  as  it  glimmers  on- 
wards to  its  final  extinction — and  we  hear 
the  last  breath — and  we  pause  in  the  solemn 
stillness  that  follows  it,  till  it  is  broken  in 
upon  by  the  bursting  agony  of  the  weeping 
attendants — and  in  one  day  more,  we  re- 
visit the  chamber  of  him,  who,  in  white  and 
shrouded  stateliness,  lies  the  effigy  of  what 
he  was — and  we  lift  the  border  that  is  upon 
the  dead  man's  countenance,  and  there  we 
gaze  on  that  brow  so  cold,  and  those  eyes 
so  motionless — and,  in  two  days  more,  we 
follow  him  to  his  sepulchre,  and  mingled 
with  the  earth,  among  which  he  is  to  be 
laid,  we  behold  the  skulls  and  the  skeletons 
of  those  who  have  gone  before  him — and  it 
is  the  distinct  understanding  of  nature,  that 


VII.  I 


ON  THE  NEW  HEAVENS  AND  THE  NEW  EARTH. 


301 


-soon  shall  have  every  one  of  us  to  go 
through  the  same  process  of  dying,  and  add 
our  mouldering  bodies  to  the  mass  of  cor- 
ruption that  we  have  been  contemplating. 
But  mark  the  derangement  of  nature,  and 
how  soon  again  it  falls  to  sleep  among  the 
delusions  of  a  world,  of  the  vanity  of  which 
it  has  recently  got  so  striking  a  demonstra- 
tion. Look  onwards  but  one  single  day 
more,  and  you  behold  every  trace  of  this 
loud  and  warning  voice  dissipated  to  no- 
thing. The  man  seemed,  as  if  he  had  been 
actually  awakened  ;  but  it  was  only  the 
start  and  the  stupid  glare  of  a  moment,  after 
which  he  has  lain  him  down  again  among 
the  visions  and  the  slumbers  of  a  soul  that 
is  spiritually  dead.  He  has  not  lost  all 
sensibility  any  more  than  the  man  that  is 
in  a  midnight  trance,  who  is  busied  with 
the  imaginations  of  a  dream.  But  he  has 
gone  back  again  to  the  sensibilities  of  a 
world  which  he  is  so  speedily  to  abandon  ; 
and  in  these  he  has  sunk  all  the  sensibili- 
ties of  that  everlasting  world,  on  the  con- 
fines of  which  he  was  treading  but  yester- 
day.   All  is  forgotten  amid  the  bargains, 


and  the  adventures,  and  the  bustle,  and  the 
expectation  of  the  scene  that  is  immediately 
around  him.  Eternity  is  again  shutout; 
and  amid  the  dreaming  illusions  of  a  fleet- 
ing and  fantastic  day,  does  he  cradle  his 
infatuated  soul  into  an  utter  unconcern 
about  its  coming  torments,  or  its  coming 
triumphs. 

Yes!  my  brethren,  we  have  heard  the 
man  of  serious  religion  denounced  as  a 
visionary.  But  if  that  be  a  vision  which  is 
a  short-lived  deceit — and  that  be  a  sober 
reality  which  survives  the  fluctuations  both 
of  time  and  of  fancy — tell  us  if  such  a  use 
of  the  term  be  not  an  utter  misapplication  ; 
and  whether,  with  all  the  justice,  as  well  as 
with  all  the  severity  of  truth,  it  may  not  be 
retorted  upon  the  head  of  him,  who,  though 
prized  for  the  sagacity  of  a  firm,  secular, 
and  much  exercised  understanding,  and 
honoured  in  the  market-place  (or  his  ex- 
perience on  the  walks  and  ways  of  this 
world's  business,  has  not  so  much  as  en- 
tered upon  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  but  is 
toiling  away  all  his  skill  and  all  his  energy 
on  the  frivolities  of  an  idiot's  dream. 


SERMON  VII. 

On  the  new  Heavens  and  the  new  Earth. 


"  Nevertheless  we,  according  to  his  promise,  look  for  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth,  wherein  dvvelleth 

righteousness." — 2  Peter  iii.  13. 


There  is  a  limit  to  the  revelations  of  the 
Bible  about  futurity,  and  it  were  a  mental 
or  spiritual  trespass  to  go  beyond  it.  The 
reserve  which  it  maintains  in  its  informa- 
tions, we  also  ought  to  maintain  in  our  in- 
quiries— satisfied  to  know  little  on  every 
subject,  where  it  has  communicated  little, 
and  feeling  our  way  into  regions  which  are 
at  present  unseen,  no  further  than  the  light 
of  Scripture  will  carry  us. 

But  while  we  attempt  not  to  be  "  wise 
above  that  which  is  written,"  we  should  at- 
tempt, and  that  most  studiously,  to  be  wise 
up  to  that  which  is  written.  The  disclo- 
sures are  very  few  and  very  partial,  which 
are  given  to  us  of  that  bright  and  beautiful 
economy,  which  is  to  survive  the  ruins  of 
our  present  one.  But  still  there  are  such 
disclosures — and  on  the  principle  of  the 
things  that  are  revealed  belonging  unto  us, 
we  have  a  right  to  walk  up  and  down,  for 
the  purpose  of  observation,  over  the  whole 
actual  extent  of  them. 

What  is  made  known  of  the  details  of 
immortality,  is  but  small  in  the  amount,  nor 
are  we  furnished  with  the  materials  of  any 
thing  like  a  graphical  or  picturesque  exhibi- 
tion of  its  abodes  of  blessedness.    But  still 


somewhat  is  made  known,  and  which,  too, 
may  be  addressed  to  a  higher  principle  than 
curiosity,  being  like  every  other  Scripture, 
"  profitable  both  for  doctrine  and  for  instruc- 
tion in  righteousness." 

In  the  text  before  us,  there  are  two  lead- 
ing points  of  information,  which  we  should 
like  successively  to  remark  upon.  The  first 
is,  that  in  the  new  economy  which  is  to  be 
reared  for  the  accommodation  of  the  blessed, 
there  will  be  materialism,  not  merely  new 
heavens,  but  also  a  new  earth.  The  second 
is,  that,  as  distinguished  from  the  present, 
which  is  an  abode  of  rebellion,  it  will  be  an 
abode  of  righteousness. 

I.  We  know  historically  that  earth,  that 
a  solid  material  earth,  may  form  the  dwell- 
ing of  sinless  creatures,  in  full  converse  and 
friendship  with  the  Being  who  made  them — 
that,  instead  of  a  place  of  exile  for  outcasts, 
it  may  have  a  broad  avenue  of  communica- 
tion with  the  spiritual  world,  for  the  descent 
of  ethereal  beings  from  on  high — that,  like 
the  member  of  an  extended  family,  it  may 
share  in  the  regard  and  attention  of  the 
other  members, and  alongwith  them  be  glad- 
dened by  the  presence  of  him  who  is  the 
Father  of  them  all.     To  inquire  how  this 


302 


ON  THE  NEW  HEAVENS  AND  THE  NEW  EARTH. 


[SERM. 


can  be,  were  to  attempt  a  wisdom  beyond 
Scripture :  but  to  assert  that  this  has  been, 
and  therefore  may  be,  is  to  keep  most  strictly 
and  modestly  within  the  limits  of  the  record. 
For,  we  there  read,  that  God  framed  an  ap- 
paratus of  materialism,  which,  on  his  own 
surveying,  he  pronounced  to  be  all  very 
good,  and  the  leading  features  of  which  may 
still  be  recognised  among  the  things  and  the 
substances  that  are  around  us — and  that  he 
created  man  with  the  bodily  organs  and 
senses  which  we  now  wear — and  placed 
him  under  the  very  canopy  that  is  over  our 
heads — and  spread  around  him  a  scenery, 
perhaps  lovelier  in  its  tints,  and  more  smiling 
and  serene  in  the  whole  aspect  of  it,  but  cer- 
tainly made  up,  in  the  main,  of  the  same 
objects  that  still  compose  the  prospect  of 
ourvisiblecontemplations — and  there,  work- 
ing with  his  hands  in  a  garden,  and  with 
trees  on  every  side  of  him,  and  even  with 
animals  sporting  at  his  feet,  was  this  inha- 
bitant of  earth,  in  the  midst  of  all  those 
earthly  and  familiar  accompaniments,  in 
full  possession  of  the  best  immunities  of  a 
citizen  of  heaven — sharing  in  the  delight  of 
angels,  and  while  he  gazed  on  the  very 
beauties  which  we  ourselves  gaze  upon,  re- 
joicing in  them  most  as  the  tokens  of  a  pre- 
sent and  presiding  Deity.  It  were  venturing 
on  the  region  of  conjecture  to  affirm,  whe- 
ther, if  Adam  had  not  fallen,  the  earth  that 
we  now  tread  upon,  would  have  been  the 
everlasting  abode  of  him  and  his  posterity. 
But  certain  it  is,  that  man,  at  the  first,  had 
for  his  place  this  world,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  for  his  privilege,  an  unclouded  fel- 
lowship with  God,  and,  for  his  prospect,  an 
immortality,  which  death  was  neither  to 
intercept  nor  put  an  end  to.  He  was  ter- 
restrial in  respect  of  condition,  and  yet 
celestial  in  respect  both  of  character  and 
enjoyment.  His  eye  looked  outwardly  on 
a  landscape  of  earth,  while  his  heart  breath- 
ed upwardly  in  the  love  of  heaven.  And 
though  he  trode  the  solid  platform  of  our 
world,  and  was  compassed  about  with  its 
horizon — still  was  he  within  the  circle  of 
God's  favoured  creation,  and  took  his  place 
among  the  freemen  and  the  denizens  of  the 
great  spiritual  commonwealth. 

This  may  serve  to  rectify  an  imagina- 
tion of  which  we  think  that  all  must  be 
conscious — as  if  the  grossness  of  material- 
ism was  only  for  those  who  had  degenerated 
into  the  grossness  of  sin ;  and  that,  when  a 
spiritualizing  process  had  purged  away  all 
our  corruption,  then,  by  the  stepping-stones 
of  a  death  and  a  resurrection,  we  should 
be  borne  away  to  some  ethereal  region, 
where  sense,  and  body,  and  all  in  the  shape 
either  of  audible  sound,  or  of  tangible  sub- 
stance, were  unknown.  And  hence  that 
strangeness  of  impression  which  is  felt  by 
you,  should  the  supposition  be  offered,  that 
in  the  place  of  eternal  blessedness  there 


will  be  ground  to  walk  upon;  or  scenes  of 
luxuriance  to  delight  the  corporeal  senses ; 
or  the  kindly  intercourse  of  friends  talking 
familiarly,  and  by  articulate  converse  to- 
gether ;  or,  in  short,  any  thing  that  has  the 
least  resemblance  to  a  local  territory,  filled 
with  various  accommodations,  and  peopled 
over  its  whole  extent  by  creatures  formed 
like  ourselves — having  bodies  such  as  we 
now  wear,  and  faculties  of  perception,  and 
thought,  and  mutual  communication,  such  as 
we  now  exercise.  The  common  imagination 
that  we  have  of  paradise  on  the  other  side 
of  death,  is,  that  of  a  lofty  aerial  region, 
where  the  inmates  float  in  ether,  or  are 
mysteriously  suspended  upon  nothing — 
where  all  the  warm  and  sensible  accompa- 
niments which  give  such  an  expression  of 
strength,  and  life,  and  colouring,  to  our 
present  habitation,  are  attenuated  into  a 
sort  of  spiritual  element,  that  is  meagre, 
and  imperceptible,  and  utterly  uninviting 
to  the  eye  of  mortals  here  below — where 
every  vestige  of  materialism  is  done  away, 
and  nothing  left  but  certain  unearthly 
scenes  that  have  no  power  of  allurement, 
and  certain  unearthly  ecstacies,  with  which 
it  is  felt  impossible  to  sympathize.  The 
holders  of  this  imagination  forget  all  the 
while,  that  really  there  is  no  essential  con- 
nection between  materialism  and  sin — that 
the  world  which  we  now  inhabit,  had  all 
the  amplitude  and  solidity  of  its  present 
materialism,  before  sin  entered  into  it — 
that  God  so  far,  on  that  account,  from  look- 
ing slightly  upon  it,  after  it  had  received 
the  last  touch  of  his  creating  hand,  review- 
ed the  earth,  and  the  waters,  and  the  firma- 
ment, and  all  the  green  herbage,  with  the 
living  creatures,  and  the  man  whom  he  had 
raised  in  dominion  over  them,  and  he  saw 
every  thing  that  he  had  made,  and  behold 
it  was  all  very  good.  They  forget  that  on 
the  birth  of  materialism,  when  it  stood  out 
in  the  freshness  of  those  glories  which  the 
great  Architect  of  Nature  had  impressed 
upon  it,  that  then  the  "  morning  stars  sang 
together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted 
for  joy."  They  forget  the  appeals  that  are 
made  every  where  in  the  Bible  to  this  ma- 
terial workmanship — and  how,  from  the 
face  of  these  visible  heavens,  and  the  garni- 
ture of  this  earth  that  we  tread  upon,  the 
greatness  and  the  goodness  of  God  are  re- 
flected on  the  view  of  his  worshippers.  No, 
my  brethren,  the  object  of  the  administra- 
tion we  sit  under,  is  to  extirpate  sin,  but  it 
is  not  to  sweep  away  materialism.  By  the 
convulsions  of  the  last  day,  it  may  be 
shaken,  and  broken  down  from  its  present 
arrangements,  and  thrown  into  such  fitful 
agitations,  as  that  the  whole  of  its  existing 
frame- work  shall  fall  to  pieces,  and  by  a  heat 
so  fervent  as  to  melt  its  most  solid  elements, 
may  it  be  utterly  dissolved.  And  thus  may 
the  earth  again  become  without  form,  and 


VII.] 


ON  THE  NEW  HEAVENS  AND  THE  NEW  EARTH. 


303 


void,  but  without  one  particle  of  its  sub- 
stance  going  into  annihilation.  Out  of  the 
ruins  of  this  second  chaos,  may  another 
heaven  and  another  earth  be  made  to  arise; 
and  a  new  materialism,  with  other  aspects 
of  magnificence  and  beauty,  emerge  from 
the  wreck  of  this  mighty  transformation; 
and  the  world  be  peopled  as  before,  with 
the  varieties  of  material  loveliness,  and 
space  he  again  lighted  up  into  a  firmament 
of  material  splendour. 

Were  our  place  of  everlasting  blessed- 
ness so  purely  spiritual  as  it  is  commonly 
imagined,  then  the  soul  of  man,  after,  at 
death,  having  quitted  his  body,  would  quit 
it  conclusively.  That  mass  of  materialism 
with  which  it  is  associated  upon  earth,  and 
which  many  regard  as  a  load  and  an  in- 
cumbrance, would  have  leave  to  putrefy  in 
the  grave  without  being  revisited  by  super- 
natural power,  or  raised  again  out  of  the 
inanimate  dust  into  which  it  had  resolved. 
If  the  body  be  indeed  a  clog  and  a  con- 
finement to  the  spirit,  instead  of  its  commo- 
dious tenement,  then  would  the  spirit  feel 
lightened  by  the  departure  it  had  made, 
and  expatiate  in  all  the  buoyancy  of  its 
emancipated  powers,  over  a  scene  of  en- 
largement. And  this  is,  doubtless,  the  pre- 
vailing imagination.  But  why,  then,  after 
having  made  its  escape  from  such  a  thral- 
dom, should  it  ever  recur  to  the  prison-house 
of  its  old  materialism,  if  a  prison-house  it 
really  be.  Why  should  the  disengaged 
spirit  again  be  fastened  to  the  drag  of  that 
grosser  and  heavier  substance,  which  many 
think  has  only  the  effect  of  weighing  down 
its  activity,  and  infusing  into  the  pure 
element  of  mind  an  ingredient  which  serves 
to  cloud  and  to  enfeeble  it.  In  other  words, 
what  is  the  use  of  a  day  of  resurrection, 
if  the  union  which  then  takes  place  is  to 
deaden,  or  to  reduce  all  those  energies  that 
are  commonly  ascribed  to  the  living  prin- 
ciple, in  a  stale  of  separation?  But,  as  a 
proof  of  some  metaphysical  delusion  upon 
this  subject,  the  product,  perhaps,  of  a 
wrong  though  fashionable  philosophy,  it 
would  appear,  that  to  embody  the  spirit  is 
not  the  stepping-stone  to  its  degradation, 
but  to  its  preferment.  The  last  day  will  be 
a  day  of  triumph  to  the  righteous — because 
the  day  of  the  re  entrance  of  the  spirit  to 
its  much-loved  abode,  where  its  faculties, 
so  far  from  being  shut  up  into  captivity, 
will  find  their  free  and  kindred  develope- 
ment  in  such  material  organs  as  are  suited 
to  them.  The  fact  of  the  resurrection 
proves,  that,  with  man  at  least,  the  state  of 
a  disembodied  spirit,  is  a  state  of  unnatural 
violence — and  that  the  resurrection  of  his 
body  is  an  essential  step  to  the  highest  per- 
fection of  which  he  is  susceptible.  And  it 
is  indeed  an  homage  to  that  materialism, 
which  many  are  for  expunging  from  the 
future  state  of   the  universe  altogether — 


that  ere  the  immaterial  soul  of  man  has 
reached  the  ultimate  glory  and  blessedness 
which  are  designed  for  it,  it  must  return 
and  knock  at  that  very  grave  where  lie  the 
mouldered  remains  of  the  body  which  it 
wore — and  there  inquisition  must  be  made 
for  the  flesh,  and  the  sinews,  and  the  hones, 
which  the  power  of  corruption  has  perhaps 
for  centuries  before,  assimilated  to  the  earth 
that  is  around  them — and  there,  the  minute 
atoms  must  be  re-assembled  into  a  structure 
that  bears  upon  it  the  form  and  the  linea- 
ments, and  the  general  aspect  of  a  man — 
and  the  soul  passes  into  this  material 
frame-work,  which  is  hereafter  to  be  its 
lodging-place  for  ever — and  that,  not  as  its 
prison,  but  as  its  pleasant  and  befitting  ha- 
bitation— not  to  be  trammelled,  as  some 
would  have  it,  in  a  hold  of  materialism, 
but  to  be  therein  equipped  for  the  services 
of  eternity — to  walk  embodied  among  the 
bowers  of  our  second  paradise — to  stand 
embodied  in  the  presence  of  our  God. 

There  will,  it  is  true,  be  a  change  of 
personal  constitution  between  a  good  man 
before  his  death,  and  a  good  man  after  his 
resurrection — not,  however,  that  he  will  be 
set  free  from  his  body,  but  that  he  will  be 
set  free  from  the  corrupt  principle  that 
is  in  his  body — not  the  materialism  by 
which  he  is  now  surrounded  will  be  done 
away,  but  that  the  taint  of  evil  by  which 
this  materialism  is  now  pervaded,  will  be 
done  away.  Could  this  be  effected  without 
dying,  then  death  would  be  no  longer  an 
essential  stepping-stone  to  paradise.  But 
it  would  appear  of  the  moral  virus  which 
has  been  transmitted  downwards  from 
Adam,  and  is  now  spread  abroad  over  the 
whole  human  family — it  would  appear, 
that  to  get  rid  of  this,  the  old  fabric  must 
be  taken  down,  and  reared  anew ;  and  that, 
not  of  other  materials,  but  of  its  own  ma- 
terials, only  delivered  of  all  impurity,  as  if 
by  a  refining  process  in  the  sepulchre.  It 
is  thus,  that  what  is  "  sown  in  weakness, 
is  raised  in  power" — and  for  this  purpose, 
it  is  not  necessary  to  get  quit  of  material- 
ism, but  to  get  quit  of  sin,  and  to  purge 
materialism  of  its  malady.  It  is  thus  that 
the  dead  shall  come  forth  incorruptible — 
and  those,  we  are  told,  who  are  alive  at 
this  great  catastrophe,  shall  suddenly  and 
mysteriously  be  changed.  While  we  are 
compassed  about  with  these  vile  bodies,  as 
the  Apostle  emphatically  terms  them,  evil 
is  present,  and  it  is  well,  if  through  the 
working  of  the  Spirit  of  grace,  evil  does  not 
prevail.  To  keep  this  besetting  enemy  in 
check,  is  the  task  and  the  trial  of  our  Chris- 
tianity on  earth — and  it  is  the  detaching  of 
this  poisonous  ingredient  which  constitutes 
that  for  which  the  believer  is  represented 
as  groaning  earnestly,  even  the  redemption 
of  the  body  that  he  now  wears,  and  which 
will  then  be  transformed  into  the  likeness 


ON  THE  NEW  HEAVENS  AND  THE  NEW  EARTH. 


of  Christ's  glorified  body.  And  this  will 
be  his  heaven,  that  he  will  serve  God  with- 
out a  struggle,  and  in  a  full  gale  of  spiritual 
delight — because  with  the  full  concurrence 
of  all  the  feelings  and  all  the  faculties  of 
his  regenerated  nature.  Before  death,  sin 
is  only  repressed — after  the  resurrection, 
all  sin  will  be  exterminated.  Here  he  has 
to  maintain  the  combat,  with  a  tendency  to 
evil  still  lodging  in  his  heart,  and  working 
a  perverse  movement  among  his  inclina- 
tions; but  after  his  warfare  in  this  world 
is  accomplished,  he  will  no  longer  be  so 
thwarted — and  he  will  set  him  down  in  an- 
other world,  with  the  repose  and  the  tri- 
umph of  victory  for  his  everlasting  reward. 
The  great  constitutional  plague  of  his  na- 
ture will  no  longer  trouble  him ;  and  there 
will  be  the  charm  of  a  genial  affinity  be- 
tween the  purity  of  his  heart,  and  the 
purity  of  the  element  he  breathes  in.  Still 
it  will  not  be  the  purity  of  spirit  escaped 
from  materialism,  but  of  spirit  translated 
into  a  materialism  that  has  been  clarified 
of  evil.  It  will  not  be  the  purity  of  souls 
unclothed  as  at  death,  but  the  purity  of 
souls  that  have  again  been  clothed  upon  at 
the  resurrection. 

But  the  highest  homage  that  we  know  of 
to  materialism,  is  that  which  God,  manifest 
in  the  flesh,  has  rendered  to  it.  That  He, 
the  Divinity,  should  have  wrapt  his  unfa- 
thomable essence  in  one  of  its  coverings, 
and  expatiated  amongst  us  in  the  palpable 
form  and  structure  of  a  man ;  and  that  he 
should  have  chosen  such  a  tenement,  not  as 
a  temporary  abode,  but  should  have  borne 
it  with  him  to  the  place  which  he  now  oc- 
cupies, and  where  he  is  now  employed  in 
preparing  the  mansions  of  his  followers; 
that  he  should  have  entered  within  the  vail, 
and  be  now  seated  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
Father,  with  the  very  body  which  was 
marked  by  the  nails  upon  his  cross,  and 
wherewith  he  ate  and  drank  after  his  resur- 
rection—that he  who  repelled  the  imagina- 
tion of  his  disciples,  as  if  they  had  seen  a 
spirit,  by  bidding  them  handle  him  and  see, 
and  subjecting  to  their  familiar  touch  the 
flesh  and  the  bones  that  encompassed  him ; 
that  he  should  now  be  throned  in  universal 
supremacy,  and  wielding  the  whole  power  of 
heaven  and  earth,  have  every  knee  to  bow 
at  his  name,  and  every  tongue  to  confess, 
and  yet  all  to  the  glory  of  God  the  Father — 
that  humanity,  that  substantial  and  embo- 
died humanity,  should  thus  be  exalted,  and 
a  voice  of  adoration  from  every  creature, 
be  lifted  up  to  the  Lamb  for  ever  and  ever — 
does  this  look  like  the  abolition  of  materi- 
alism, after  the  present  system  of  it  is  de- 
stroyed ;  or  does  it  not  rather  prove,  that 
transplanted  into  another  system,  it  will  be 
preferred  to  celestial  honours,  and  prolonged 
in  immortality  throughout  all  ages? 

It  has  been  our  careful  endeavour,  in  all 


[SERM. 


that  we  have  said,  to  keep  within  the  limits  of 
the  record,  and  to  offer  no  other  remarks  than 
those  which  may  fitly  be  suggested  by  the 
circumstance,  that  a  new  earth  is  to  be  cre- 
ated, as  well  as  a  new  heavens  for  the  future 
accommodation  of  the  righteous.   We  have 
no  desire  to  push  the  speculation  beyond 
what  is  written,  but  it  were,  at  the  same 
time,  well,  that  in  all  our  representations  of 
the  immortal  state,  there  was  just  the  same 
force  of  colouring,  and  the  same  vivacity 
of  f-.cenic  exhibition  that  there  is  in  the  New 
Testament.     The   imagination   of  a  total 
and  diametric  opposition  between  the  re- 
gion of  sense  and  the  region  of  spirituality, 
certainly  tends  to  abate  the  interest  with 
which  we  might  otherwise  look  to  the  per- 
spective that  is  on  the  other  side  of  the 
grave ;  and  to  deaden  all  those  sympathies 
that  we  else  might  have  with  the  joys  and 
the  exercises  of  the  blest  in  paradise.    To 
rectify  this,  it  is  not  necessary  to  enter  on 
the  particularities  of  heaven — a  topic  on 
which  the  Bible  is  certainly  most  sparing 
and  reserved  in  its  communications.     But 
a  great  step  is  gained  simply  by  dissolving 
the  alliance  that  exists  in  the  minds  of  many 
between  the  two  ideas  of  sin  and  material- 
ism ;  or  proving,  that  when  once  sin  is  done 
away,  it  consists  with  all  we  know  of  God's 
administration,  that   materialism   shall  be 
perpetuated  in  the  full  bloom  and  vigour 
of  immortality.    It  altogether  holds  out  a 
warmer  and  more  alluring  picture  of  the 
elysium  that  awaits  us,  when  told,  that  there, 
will  be  beauty  to  delight  the  eye ;  and  music 
to  regale  the  ear ;  and  the  comfort  that 
springs  from  all  the  charities  of  intercourse 
between  man  and  man,  holding  converse 
as  they  do  on  earth,  and  gladdening  each 
other  with  the  benignant  smiles  that  play 
on  the  human  countenance,  or  the  accents 
of  kindness  that  fall  in  soft  and  soothing 
melody  from  the  human  voice.    There  is 
much  of  the  innocent,  and  much  of  the  in- 
spiring, and  much  to  affect  and  elevate  the 
heart,  in  the  scenes  and  the  contemplations 
of  materialism — and  we  do  hail  the  infor- 
mation of  our  text,  that  after  the  dissolution 
of  its  present  frame-work,  it  will  again  be 
varied  and  decked  out  anew  in  all  the  graces 
of  its  unfading   verdure,  .and   of  its  un- 
bounded variety — that  in  addition  to  our  di- 
rect and  personal  view  of  the  Deity,  when 
he  comes  down  to  tabernacle  with  men,  we 
shall  also  have  the  reflection  of  him  in  a 
lovely  mirror  of  his  own  workmanship ; 
and  that  instead  of  being  transported  to 
some  abode  of  dimness  and  of  mystery,  so 
remote  from  human  experience,  as  to  be  be- 
yond all  comprehension,  we  shall  walk  for 
ever  in  a  land  replenished  with  those  sen- 
sible delights,  and  those  sensible  glories, 
which,  we  doubt  not,  will  lie  most  profusely 
scattered  over  the  "  new  heavens  and  the 
new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness." 


VII.] 


ON  THE  NEW  HEAVENS  AND  THE  NEW  EARTH. 


305 


II.  But  though  a  paradise  of  sense,  it  will 
not  be  a  paradise  of  sensuality.  Though  not 
so  unlike  the  present  world  as  many  appre- 
hend it,  there  will  be  one  point  of  total  dis- 
similarity betwixt  them.  It  is  not  the  entire 
substitution  of  spirit  for  matter,  that  will 
distinguish  the  future  economy  from  the 
present.  But  it  will  be  the  entire  substitu- 
tion of  righteousness  for  sin.  It  is  this  which 
signalizes  the  Christian  from  the  Mahome- 
tan paradise — not  that  sense,  and  substance, 
and  splendid  imagery,  and  the  glories  of  a 
visible  creation  seen  with  bodily  eyes  are 
excluded  from  it,  but  that  all  which  is  vile 
in  principle,  or  voluptuous  in  impurity,  will 
be  utterly  excluded  from  it.  There  will  be 
a  firm  earth,  as  we  have  at  present,  and  a 
heaven  stretched  over  it,  as  we  have  at  pre- 
sent; and  it  is  not  by  the  absence  of  these, 
but  by  the  absence  of  sin,  that  the  abodes  of 
immortality  will  be  characterized.  There 
will  both  be  heavens  and  earth,  it  would 
appear,  in  the  next  great  administration — 
and  with  this  speciality  to  mark  it  from 
the  present  one,  that  it  will  be  a  heavens 
and  earth,  "wherein  dwelleth  righteous- 
ness." 

Now,  though  the  first  topic  of  information 
that  we  educed  from  the  text,  may  be  re- 
garded as  not  very  practical,  yet  the  second 
topic  on  which  I  now  insist,  is  most  emi- 
nently so.  Were  it  the  great  characteristic 
of  that  spirituality  which  is  to  obtain  in  a 
future  heaven,  that  it  was  a  spirituality  of 
essence,  then  occupying  and  pervading  the 
place  from  which  materialism  has  been 
swept  away,  we  could  not,  by  any  possible 
method,  approximate  the  condition  we  are 
in  at  present  to  the  condition  we  are  to 
hold  everlastingly.  We  cannot  etherealize 
the  matter  thai  is  around  us — neither  can  we 
attenuate  our  own  bodies,  nor  bring  down 
the  slightesl  degree  of  such  a  heaven  to  the 
earth  that  we  now  inhabit.  But  when  we 
are  told  thai  materialism  is  to  be  kept  up, 
;m(\  thai  tin1  spirituality  of  our  future  state 
lies  not  in  the  kind  of  substance  which  is  to 
compose  its  frame-work,  but  in  the  charac- 
ter of  those  who  people  it — this  puts,  if  not 
the  fulness  of  heaven,  at  least  a  foretaste  of 
heaven,  within  our  reach.  We  have  not  to 
strain  at  a  thing  so  impracticable,  as  that 
of  diluting  the  material  economy  which  is 
without  us;  we  have  only  to  reform  the 
moral  economy  that  is  within  us.  We  are 
now  walking  on  a  terrestrial  surface,  not 
more  compact,  perhaps,  than  the  one  we 
shall  hereafter  walk  upon ;  and  are  now 
wearing  terrestrial  bodies,  not  firmer  and 
more  solid,  perhaps,  than  those  we  shall 
hereafter  wear.  It  is  not  by  working  any 
change  upon  them  that  we  could  realize,  to 
an  extent,  our  future  heaven.  And  this  is 
simply  done  by  opening  the  door  of  our 
heart  for  the  influx  of  heaven's  affections — 
by  bringing  the  whole  man,  as  made  up  of 
39 


soul,  and  spirit,  and  body,  under  the  presid- 
ing authority  of  heaven's  principles. 

This  will  make  plain  to  you  how  it  is  that 
it  could  be  said  in  the  New  Testament,  that 
the  "  kingdom  of  heaven  was  at  hand" — 
and  how,  in  that  book,  its  place  is  marked 
out,  not  by  locally  pointing  to  any  quarter, 
and  saying,  Lo  here,  or  lo  there,  but  by  the 
simple  affirmation  that  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven is  within  you — and  how,  in  defining 
what  it  was  that  constituted  the  kingdom 
of  heaven,  there  is  an  enumeration,  not  of 
such  circumstances  as  make  up  an  outward 
condition,  but  of  such  feelings  and  qualities 
as  make  up  a  character,  even  righteousness, 
and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost — and 
how  the  ushering  in  of  the  new  dispensa- 
tion is  held  equivalent  to  the  introduction 
of  this  kingdom  into  the  world — all  making 
it  evident,  that  if  the  purity  and  the  princi- 
ples of  heaven  begin  to  take  effect  upon  our 
heart,  what  is  essentially  heaven  begins  with 
us,  even  in  this  world ;  that  instead  of  as- 
cending to  some  upper  region,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  entering  it,  it  may  descend  upon  us, 
and  make  an  actual  entrance  of  itself  into 
our  bosoms  ;  and  that  so  far,  therefore,  from 
that  remote  and  inaccessible  thing  which 
many  do  regard  it,  it  may,  through  the  in- 
fluence of  the  word  which  is  nigh  unto  you, 
and  of  the  Spirit  that  is  given  to  prayer,  be 
lighted  up  in  the  inner  man  of  an  individual 
upon  earth,  whose  person  may  even  here, 
exemplify  its  graces,  and  whose  soul  may 
even  here  realize  a  measure  of  its  enjoyments. 
And  hence  one  great  purpose  of  the  in- 
carnation of  our  Saviour.  He  came  down 
amongst  us  in  the  full  perfection  of  heaven's 
character,  and  has  made  us  see,  that  it  is  a 
character  which  may  be  embodied.  All  its- 
virtues  were,  in  his  case,  infused  into  a  cor- 
poreal frame-work,  and  the  substance  of 
these  lower  regions  was  taken  into  intimate 
and  abiding  association  with  the  spirit  of 
the  higher.  The  ingredient  which  is  hea- 
venly, admits  of  being  united  with  the  in- 
gredient which  is  earthly — so  that  we,  who, 
by  nature  are  of  the  earth,  and  earthly, 
could  we  catch  of  that  pure  and  celestial 
element  which  made  the  man  Christ  Jesus 
to  differ  from  all  other  men,  then  might  we 
too  be  formed  into  that  character  by  which 
it  is  that  the  members  of  the  family  above 
differ  from  the  outcast  family  beneath. 
Now,  it  is  expressly  said  of  him,  that  he  is 
set  before  us  as  an  example;  and  we  are  re- 
quired to  look  to  that  living  exhibition  of 
him,  where  all  the  graces  of  the  upper 
sanctuary  are  beheld  as  in  a  picture;  and 
instead  of  an  abstract,  we  have  in  his  his- 
tory a  familiar  representation  of  such  worth, 
and  piety,  and  excellence,  as  could  they 
only  be  stamped  upon  our  own  persons,  and 
borne  along  with  us  to  the  place  where  he 
now  dwelleth — instead  of  being  shunned  as 
aliens,  wc  should  be  welcomed  and  recog- 


306 


ON  THE  NEW  HEAVENS  AND  THE  NEW  EARTH. 


[SERM. 


nised  as  seemly  companions  for  the  inmates 
of  that  place  of  holiness.  And,  in  truth,  the 
great  work  of  Christ's  disciples  upon  earth, 
is  a  constant  and  busy  process  of  assimila- 
tion to  their  Master  who  is  in  heaven.  And 
we  live  under  a  special  economy,  that  has 
been  set  up  for  the  express  purpose  of  help- 
ing it  forward.  It  is  for  this,  in  particular, 
that  the  Spirit  is  provided.  We  are  changed 
into  the  image  of  the  Lord,  even  by  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord.  Nursed  out  of  this  ful- 
ness, Ave  grow  up  unto  the  stature  of  perfect 
men  in  Christ  Jesus — and  instead  of  heaven 
being  a  remote  and  mysterious  unknown, 
heaven  is  brought  near  to  us  by  the  simple 
expedient  of  inspiring  us  where  we  now 
stand,  with  its  love,  and  its  purity,  and  its 
sacredness.  We  learn  from  Christ,  that  the 
heavenly  graces  are  all  of  them  compatible 
with  the  wear  of  an  earthly  body,  and  the 
circumstances  of  an  earthly  habitation.  It 
is  not  said  in  how  many  of  its  features  the 
new  earth  will  differ  from,  or  be  like  unto 
the  present  one — but  we,  by  turning  from 
our  iniquities  unto  Christ,  push  forward  the 
resemblance  of  the  one  to  the  other,  in  the 
only  feature  that  is  specified,  even  that 
"therein  dwelleth  righteousness." 

And  had  we  only  the  character  of  hea- 
ven, we  should  not  be  long  of  feeling  what 
that  is  which  essentially  makes  the  comfort 
of  heaven.  "  Thou  lovest  righteousness,  and 
hatest  iniquity;  therefore,  God,  thy  God, 
hath  anointed  thee  with  the  oil  of  gladness, 
above  thy  fellows.-'  Let  us  but  love  the 
righteousness  which  he  loves,  and  hate  the 
iniquity  which  he  hateth,  and  this,  of  itself, 
would  so  soften  and  attune  the  mechanism 
of  our  moral  nature,  that  in  all  the  move- 
ments of  it,  there  should  be  joy.  It  is  not 
sufficiently  adverted  to,  that  the  happiness 
of  heaven  lies  simply  and  essentially  in  the 
well-going  machinery  of  a  well-conditioned 
soul — and  that  according  to  its  measure,  it 
is  the  same  in  kind  with  the  happiness  of 
God,  who  liveth  for  ever  in  bliss  ineffable, 
because  he  is  unchangeable  in  being  good, 
and  upright,  and  holy.  There  may  be  audi- 
ble music  in  heaven,  but  its  chief  delight 
will  be  in  the  music  of  well-poised  affections, 
and  of  principles  in  full  and  consenting  har- 
mony with  the  laws  of  eternal  rectitude. 
There  may  be  visions  of  loveliness  there, 
but  it  will  be  the  loveliness  of  virtue,  as  seen 
directly  in  God,  and  as  reflected  back  again 
in  family  likeness  from  all  his  children — it 
will  be  this  that  shall  give  its  purest  and 
sweetest  transports  to  the  soul.  In  a  word, 
the  main  reward  of  paradise,  is  spiritual  joy 
— and  that,  springing  at  once  from  the  love 
and  the  possession  of  spiritual  excellence. 
It  is  such  a  joy  as  sin  extinguishes  on  the 
moment  of  its  entering  the  soul;  and  such  a 
joy  as  is  again  restored  to  the  soul,  and  that 
immediately  on  its  being  restored  to  righ- 
teousness. 


It  is  thus  that  heaven  may  be  established 
upon  earth,  and  the  petition  of  our  Lord's 
prayer  be  fulfilled,  "  Thy  kingdom  come." 
This  petition  receives  its  best  explanation 
from  the  one  which  follows :  "  Thy  will  be 
done  on  earth  as  it  is  done  in  heaven."  It 
just  requires  a  similarity  of  habit  and  cha- 
racter in  the  two  places,  to  make  out  a  simi- 
larity of  enjoyment.  Let  us  attend,  then,  to 
the  way  in  which  the  services  of  the  upper 
sanctuary  are  rendered — not  in  the  spirit  of 
legality,  for  this  gendereth  to  bondage;  but 
in  the  spirit  of  love,  which  gendereth  to  the 
beatitude  of  the  affections  rejoicing  in  their 
best  and  most  favourite  indulgence.  They 
do  not  work  there,  for  the  purpose  of  mak- 
ing out  the  conditions  of  a  bargain.  They 
do  not  act  agreeably  to  the  pleasure  of  God, 
in  order  to  obtain  the  gratification  of  any 
distinct  will  or  distinct  pleasure  of  their 
own,  in  return  for  it.  Their  will  is,  in  fact, 
identical  with  the  will  of  God.  There  is  a 
perfect  unison  of  taste  and  of  inclination, 
between  the  creature  and  the  Creator.  They 
are  in  their  element,  when  they  are  feeling 
righteously,  and  doing  righteously.  Obe- 
dience is  not  drudgery,  but  delight  to  them ; 
and  as  much  as  there  is  of  the  congenial 
between  animal  nature,  and  the  food  that  is 
suitable  to  it,  so  much  is  there  of  the  con- 
genial between  the  moral  nature  of  heaven, 
and  its  sacred  employments  and  services. 
Let  the  will  of  God,  then,  be  done  here,  as 
it  is  done  there,  and  not  only  will  character 
and  conduct  be  the  same  here  as  there,  but 
they  will  also  resemble  each  other  in  the 
style,  though  not  in  the  degree  of  their 
blessedness.  The  happiness  of  heaven  will 
be  exemplified  upon  earth,  along  with  the 
virtue  of  heaven — for,  in  truth,  the  main 
ingredient  of  that  happiness  is  not  given 
them  in  payment  for  work;  but  it  lies  in  the 
love  they  bear  to  the  work  itself.  A  man  is 
never  happier  than  when  employed  in  that 
which  he  likes  best.  This  is  all  a  question 
of  taste;  but  should  such  a  taste  be  given  as 
to  make  it  a  man's  meat  and  drink  to  do  the 
will  of  his  Father,  then  is  he  in  perfect 
readiness  for  being  carried  upwards  to  hea- 
ven, and  placed  beside  the  pure  river  of 
water  of  life,  that  proceedeth  out  of  the 
throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb.  This  is  the 
way  in  which  you  may  make  a  heaven  upon 
earth,  not  by  heaping  your  reluctant  offers 
at  the  shrine  of  legality,  but  by  serving  God 
because  you  love  him ;  and  doing  his  will, 
because  you  delight  to  do  him  honour. 

And  here  we  may  remai-k,  that  the  only 
possible  conveyance  for  this  new  principle 
into  the  heart,  is  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ 
— that  in  no  other  way,  than  through  the 
acceptance  of  its  free  pardon,  sealed  by  the 
blood  of  an  atonement,  which  exalts  the 
Lawgiver,  can  the  soul  of  man  be  both 
emancipated  from  the  fear  of  terror,  and 
solemnized  into  the  fear  of  humble  and  holy 


VIII.J 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD. 


307 


reverence — that  it  is  only  in  conjunction 
with  the  faith  which  justifies,  that  the  love 
of  gratitude,  and  the  love  of  moral  esteem, 
are  made  to  arise  in  the  bosom  of  regene- 
rated man;  and,  therefore,  to  bring  down 
the  virtues  of  heaven,  as  well  as  the  peace 
of  heaven,  into  this  lower  world,  we  know 


not  what  else  can  be  done,  than  to  urtje 
upon  you  the  great  propitiation  of  the  New 
Testament — nor  arc  we  aware  of  any  ex- 
pedient by  which  all  the  cold  and  freezing 
sensations  of  legality  can  be  done  away, 
but  by  your  thankful  and  unconditional  ac- 
ceptance of  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified. 


SERMON  VIII. 

The  Nature  of  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

1  For  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  word,  but  in  power." — 1  Corinthians  iv.  20 


There  is  a  most  important  lesson  to  be 
derived  from  the  variety  of  senses  in  which 
the  phrases  "  kingdom  of  God,"  and  "  king- 
dom of  heaven,"  are  evidently  made  use  of 
in  the  New  Testament.  If  it,  at  one  time, 
carry  our  thoughts  to  that  place  where  God 
sits  in  visible  glory,  and  where,  surrounded 
by  the  family  of  the  blessed,  he  presides  in 
full  and  spiritual  authority — it,  at  another 
time,  turns  our  thoughts  inwardly  upon 
ourselves,  and  instead  of  leading  us  to  say, 
Lo,  here,  or  lo,  there,  as  if  to  some  local 
habitation  at  a  distance,  it  leads  us,  by  the 
declaration,  that  the  "kingdom  of  God  is 
within  us,"  to  look  for  it  into  our  own 
breast,  and  to  examine  whether  heavenly 
affections  have  been  substituted  there  in  the 
place  of  earthly  ones.  Such  is  the  tendency 
of  our  imagination  upon  this  subject,  that 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  never  mentioned, 
without  our  minds  being  impelled  thereby 
to  take  an  upward  direction — to  go  aloft  to 
that  place  of  spaciousness,  and  of  splendour, 
and  of  psalmody,  which  forms  the  residence 
of  angels;  and  where  the  praises  both  of 
redeemed  and  unfallen  creatures,  rise  in  one 
anthem  of  gratulation  to  the  Father,  who 
rejoices  over  them  all. 

Now,  it  is  evident,  that  in  dwelling  upon 
such  an  elysium  as  this,  the  mind  can  pic- 
ture to  itself  a  thousand  delicious  accom- 
paniments, which,  apart  from  moral  and 
spiritual  character  altogether,  are  fitted  to 
regale  animal,  and  sensitive;,  and  unrenewed 
man.  There  may  be  sights  of  beauty  and 
brilliancy  for  the  eye.  There  may  be  sounds 
of  sweetest  melody  for  the  ear.  There  may 
be  innumerable  sensations  of  delight,  from 
the  adaptation  which  obtains  between  the 
materialism  of  surrounding  heaven,  and  the 
materialism  of  our  own  transformed  and 
glorified  bodies.  There  may  even  be  poured 
upon  us,  in  richest  abundance,  a  higher  and 
a  nobler  class  of  enjoyments — and  separate 
still  from  the  possession  of  holiness,  of  that 
peculiar  quality,  by  the  accession  of  which 
a  sinner  is  turned  into  a  saint,  and  the  man 
who,  before,  had  an  entire  aspect  of  secu- 


larly and  of  the  world,  looks  as  if  he  had 
been  cast  over  again  in  another  moujd,  and 
come  out  breathing  godly  desires,  and  aspir- 
ing, with  a  newly  created  fervour,  after 
godly  enjoyments.  And  so,  without  any 
such  conversion  as  this,  heaven  may  still  be 
conceived  to  minister  a  set  of  very  refined 
and  intellectual  gratifications.  One  may 
figure  it  so  formed,  as  to  adapt  itself  to  the 
senses  of  man,  though  he  should  possess 
not  one  single  virtue  of  the  temple,  or  of 
the  sanctuary ;  and  one  may  figure  it  to  be 
so  formed,  as,  though  alike  destitute  of  these 
virtues,  to  adapt  itself  even  to  the  spirit  of 
man,  and  to  many  of  the  loftier  principles 
and  capacities  of  his  nature.  His  taste  may 
find  an  ever-recurring  delight  in  the  pano- 
rama of  its  sensible  glories;  and  his  fancy 
wander  untired  among  all  the  realities  and 
all  the  possibilities  of  created  excellence; 
and  his  understanding  be  feasted  to  ecstacy 
among  those  endless  varieties  of  truth, 
which  are  ever  pouring  in  a  rich  flood  of 
discovery,  upon  his  mind;  and  even  his 
heart  be  kept  in  a  glow  of  warm  and  kindly 
affection  among  the  cordialities  of  that  be- 
nevolence, by  which  he  is  surrounded.  All 
this  is  possible  to  be  conceived  of  heaven; 
and  when  we  add  its  secure  and  everlasting 
exemption  from  the  agonies  of  hell,  let  us 
not  wonder,  that  such  a  heaven  should  be 
vehemently  desired  by  those  who  have  not 
advanced  by  the  very  humblest  degree  of 
spiritual  preparation,  for  the  real  heaven  of 
the  New  Testament — who  have  not  the 
least  congeniality  of  feeling  with  that  which 
forms  its  most  essential  and  characteristic 
blessedness — who  cannot  sustain  on  earth 
for  a  very  short  interval  of  retirement,  the 
labour  and  the  weariness  of  communion 
with  God — who,  though  they  could  relish 
to  the  uttermost,  all  the  sensible  and  all  the 
intellectual  joys  of  heaven,  yet  hold  do  taste 
of  sympathy  whatever,  with  its  hallelujahs, 
and  its  songs  of  raptured  adoration — and 
who,  therefore,  if  transported  at  this  mo- 
ment, or  if  transported  after  death,  with  the 
frame  and  character  of  soul  that  they  have 


508 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD. 


[SERM. 


at  this  moment,  to  the  New  Jerusalem,  and 
the  city  of  the  living  God,  would  positively 
find  themselves  aliens,  and  out  of  their  kin- 
dred and  rejoicing  element,  however  much 
they  may  sigh  after  a  paradise  of  pleasure, 
or  a  paradise  of  poetry. 

It  may  go  to  dissipate  this  sentimental 
illusion,  if  we   ponder  well  the  meaning 
which  is  often  assigned  to  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  in  the  Bible ;  if  we  reflect,  that  it  is 
often  made  to  attach  personally  to  a  hu- 
man creature  upon  earth,  as  well  as  to  be 
situated  locally  in  some  distant  and  myste- 
rious region  away  from  us — that  to  be  the 
subject  of  such  a  kingdom,  it  is  not  indis- 
pensible  that  our  residence  be  within  the 
limits  of  an  assigned  territory,  any  more,  in 
fact,  than  that  the  subject  of  an  earthly 
sovereign    should    not  remain  so,  though 
travelling,  for  a  time,  beyond  the  confines 
of  his  master's  jurisdiction.  He  may,  though 
away  from   his  country  in  person,  carry 
about  with  him  in  mind  a  full  principle 
of  allegiance  to  his   country's  sovereign; 
and  may,  both  in  respect  of  legal  duty,  and 
of  his  own  most  willing  and  affectionate 
compliance  with  it,  remain  associated  with 
him  both  in  heart  and  in  political  relation- 
ship.    He  is  still  a  member  of  that  king- 
dom in  the  domains  of  which  he  was  born; 
and  in  the  very  same  way,  may  a  man  be 
travelling  the  journey  of  life  in  this  world, 
and  be  all  the  while  a  member  of  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.     The  being  who  reigns  in 
supreme  authority  there  may,  even  in  this 
land  of  exile  and  alienation,  have  some  one 
devoted  subject,  who  renders  to  the  same 
authority  the  deference  of  his  heart,  and 
the  subordination  of   his  whole  practice. 
The  will  of  God  may  possess  such  a  moral 
ascendency  over  his  will,  as  that  when  the 
one  commands,  the  other  promptly  and 
cheerfully  obeys.    The  character  of  God 
may  stand  revealed  in  such  charms  of  per- 
fection and  gracefulness  to  the  eye  of  his 
mind,  that  by  ever  looking  to  him  he  both 
loves  and  is  made  like  unto  him.    A  sense 
of  God  may  pervade  his  every  hour,  and 
every  employment,  even  as  it  is  the  hand 
of  God  which  preserves  him  continually, 
and  through  the  actual  power  of  God,  that 
he  lives  and  moves,  as  well  as  has  his  being. 
Such  a  man,  if  such  a  man  there  be  on  the 
face  of  our  world,  has  the  kingdom  of  God 
set  up  in  his  heart.     He  is  already  one  of 
the  children  of  the  kingdom.     He  is  not 
locally  in  heaven,  and  yet  his  heaven  is  be- 
gun.   He  has  in  his  eye  the  glories  of  hea- 
ven ;  though,  as  yet,  he  sees  them  through 
a  glass  darkly.     He  feels  in  his  bosom  the 
principles  of  heaven ;  though,  still  at  war 
Avith  the  propensities  of  nature,  they  do  not 
yet  reign  in  all  the  freeness  of  an  undis- 
puted ascendency.    He  carries  in  his  heart 
the  peace,  and  the  joy,  and  the  love,  and  the 
.  1  »vfitioh  of  heaven;  though  under  the  in- 


cumbrance of  a  vile  body,  the  spiritual  repast 
which  is  thus  provided,  is  not  without  its  mix- 
tures, and  without  its  mitigation.  In  a  word, 
the  essential  elements  of  heaven's  reward, 
and  of  heaven's  felicity,  are  all  in  his  posses- 
sion.    He  tastes  the  happiness  of  heaven  in 
kind,  though  not  in  its  full  and  finished  de- 
gree. When  he  gets  to  heaven  above,  he  will 
not  meet  there  with  a  happiness  differing  in 
character  from  that  which  he  now  feels;  but 
only  higher  in  gradation.     There  may  be 
crowns  of  material  splendour.  There  may  be 
trees  of  unfading  loveliness.    There  may  be 
pavements   of  emerald — and    canopies  of 
brightest  radiance— and  gardens  of  deep  and 
tranquil  security — and  palaces  of  proud  and 
stately  decoration — and  a  city  of  lofty  pin- 
nacles, through  which  there  unceasing  flows 
a  river  of  gladness,  and  where  jubilee  is 
ever  rung  with   the   concord  of  seraphic 
voices.    But  these  are  only  the  accessaries 
of  heaven.     They  form  not  the  materials 
of  its  substantial  blessedness.     Of  this  the 
man  who  toils  in  humble  drudgery,  an  utter 
stranger  to  the  delights  of  sensible  pleasure, 
or  the  fascinations  of  sensible  glory,  has  got 
already  a  foretaste  in  his  heart.     It  consists 
not  in  the  enjoyment  of  created  good,  nor 
in  the  survey  of  created  magnificence.  It  is 
drawn  in  a  direct  stream,  through  the  chan- 
nels of  love  and  of  contemplation,  from  the 
fullness  of  the  Creator.  It  emanates  from  the 
countenance  of  God,  manifesting  the  spiritu- 
al glories  of  his  holy  and  perfect  character, 
on  those  whose  characters  are  kindred  to  his 
own.    And  if  on  earth  there  is  no  tendency 
towards  such  a  character — no  process  of 
restoration  to  the  lost  image  of  the  Godhead 
— no  delight  in  prayer — no  relish  for  the 
sweets  of  intercourse  with  our  Father,  now 
unseen,  but  then  to  be  revealed  to  the  view 
of  his   immediate   worshippers — then,  let 
our  imaginations  kindle  as  they  may,  with 
the  beatitudes  of  our  fictitious  heaven,  the 
true  heaven  of  the  Bible  is  what  we  shall 
never  reach,  because  it  is  a  heaven  that  we 
are  not  fitted  to  enjoy. 

But  such  a  view  of  the  matter  seems  not 
merely  to  dissipate  a  sentimental  illusion 
which  obtains  upon  the  subject.  It  also 
serves  to  dissipate  a  theological  illusion. 
Ere  we  can  enter  heaven,  there  must  be 
granted  to  us  a  legal  capacity  of  admission 
— and  Christ  by  his  atoning  death,  and 
perfect  righteousness,  has  purchased  this 
capacity  for  those  who  believe ;  and  they, 
by  the  very  act  of  believing,  are  held  to  be 
in  possession  of  it,  just  as  a  man  by  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand  to  a  deed  or  a  passport, 
becomes  vested  with  all  the  privileges  which 
are  thereby  conveyed  to  the  holder.  Now, 
in  the  zeal  of  controversialists,  (and  it  is  a 
point  most  assuredly  about  which  they 
cannot  be  too  zealous) — in  their  zeal  to 
clear  up  and  to  demonstrate  the  ground  on 
which  the  sinner's  legal  capacity  must  rest. 


VIII.] 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD. 


309 


there  has,  with  many,  been  a  sad  overlook- 
ing of  what  is  no  less  indispensable,  even 
his  personal  capacity.  And  yet  even  on  the 
lowest  and  grossest  conceptions  of  what 
that  is  which  constitutes  the  felicity  of  hea- 
ven, it  would  be  no  heaven,  and  no  place 
of  enjoyment  at  all,  without  a  personal 
adaptation  on  the  part  of  its  occupiers,  to  the 
kind  of  happiness  which  is  current  there. 
If  that  happiness  consisted  entirely  in  sights 
of  magnificence,  of  what  use  would  it  be  to 
confer  a  title-deed  of  entry  on  a  man  who 
was  blind  1  To  make  it  heaven  to  him,  his 
eyes  must  be  opened.  Or,  if  that  happiness 
consisted  in  sounds  of  melody,  of  what  use 
would  a  passport  be  to  the  man  who  was 
deaf  ?  To  make  out  a  heaven  for  him,  a 
change  must  be  made  on  the  person  which 
he  wears,  as  well  as  in  the  place  which  he 
occupies,  and  his  ears  must  be  unstopped. 
Or,  if  that  happiness  consisted  in  fresh  and 
perpetual  accessions  of  new  and  delightful 
truth  to  the  understanding,  what  would  rights 
and  legal  privileges  avail  to  him  who  was 
sunk  in  helpless  idiotism  ?  To  provide  him 
with  a  heaven,  it  is  not  enough  that  he  be 
transported  to  a  place  among  the  mansions 
of  the  celestial :  he  must  be  provided  with 
a  new  faculty,  and  as  before  a  change  be- 
hooved to  be  made  upon  the  senses ;  so 
now,  ere  heaven  can  be  heaven  to  its  occu- 
pier, a  change  must  be  made  upon  his 
mind.  And,  in  like  manner,  my  brethren, 
if  that  happiness  shall  consist  in  the  love 
of  God  for  his  goodness,  and  in  the  love  of 
God  for  the  moral  and  spiritual  excellence 
which  belongs  to  him — if  it  shall  consist  in 
the  play  and  exercise  of  affections  directed 
to  such  objects  as  are  alone  worthy  of  their 
most  exalted  regard — if  it  shall  consist  in 
the  movements  of  a  heart  now  attracted  in 
reverence  and  admiration  towards  all  that 
is  noble,  and  righteous,  and  holy — it  is  not 
enough  to  constitute  a  heaven  for  the  sin- 
ner, that  God  is  there  in  visible  manifesta- 
tion, or  that  heaven  is  lighted  up  to  him  in 
a  blaze  of  spiritual  glory.  His  heart  must 
be  mad;'  a  fit  recipient  for  the  impression 
of  that  glory.  Of  what  possible  enjoyment 
to  him  is  heaven,  as  his  purchased  inherit- 
ance, if  heaven  lie  not  also  his  precious  and 
his  much-loved  home  1  To  create  enjoy- 
ment for  a  man,  there  must  be  a  suitable- 
ness between  the  taste  that  is  in  him,  and 
the  objects  that  are  around  him.  To  make 
a  natural  man  happy  upon  earth,  we  may 
let  his  taste  alone,  and  surround  him  with 
favourable  circumstances — with  smiling 
abundance,  and  merry  companionship, 
and  bright  anticipations  of  fortune  or  of 
fame,  and  the  salutations  of  public  respect, 
and  tlie  gaieties  <if  fashionable  amusement, 
and  the  countless  other  pleasures  of  a 
world,  which  yields  so  much  to  delight  and 
to  diversify  the  short-lived  period  of  its 
fleeting  generations.     To  make  the  same 


man  happy  in  heaven,  it  would  suffice  sim- 
ply to  transmit  him  there  with  the  same 
taste,  and  to  surround  him  with  the  same 
circumstances.  But  God  has  not  so  order- 
ed heaven.  He  will  not  suit  the  eircum 
stances  of  heaven  to  the  character  of  man  ; 
and  therefore  to  make  it,  that  man  can  be 
happy  there,  nothing  remains  but  to  suit 
the  character  of  man  to  the  circumstances 
of  heaven;  and,  therefore  it  is,  that  to  bring 
about  heaven  to  a  sinner,  it  is  not  enough 
that  there  be  the  preparation  of  a  place  for 
him ;  there  must  be  a  preparation  of  him 
for  the  place — it  is  not  enough  that  he  be 
meet  in  law,  he  must  be  meet  in  person — 
it  is  not  enough  that  there  be  a  change  in 
his  forensic  relation  towards  God,  there 
must  be  a  change  in  the  actual  disposition 
of  his  heart  towards  him  ;  and  unless  deli- 
vered from  his  earth-born  propensities — 
unless  a  clean  heart  be  created,  and  a  right 
spirit  renewed — unless  transformed  into  a 
holy  and  godlike  character,  it  is  quite  in 
vain  to  have  put  a  deed  of  entry  into  his 
hands — heaven  will  have  no  charm  for 
him — all  its  notes  of  rapture  will  fall 
with  tasteless  insipidity  upon  his  ear — and 
justification  itself  will  cease  to  be  a  privi- 
lege. 

Let  us  cease  to  wonder,  then,  at  the  fre- 
quent application,  in  Scripture,  of  this 
phrase  to  a  state  of  personal  feeling  and 
character  upon  earth  ;  and  rather  let  us 
press  upon  our  remembrance  the  important 
lessons  which  are  to  be  gathered  from  such 
an  application.  In  that  passage  where  it 
is  said,  that  the  "kingdom  of  God  is  not 
meat  and  drink,  hut  righteousness,  and 
peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost,"  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  reference  is  alto- 
gether personal,  for  the  apostle  is  here  con- 
trasting the  man  who,  in  these  things, 
serveth  Christ,  with  the  man  who  eateth 
unto  the  Lord,  or  who  eateth  not  unto  the 
Lord.  And  in  the  passage  now  before  us, 
there  can  be  as  little  doubt,  that  the  refer- 
ence is  to  the  kingdom  of  God,  as  fixed  and 
substantiated  upon  the  character  of  the 
human  soul.  He  was  just  before  alluding 
to  those  who  could  talk  of  the  things  of 
Christ,  while  it  remained  questionable 
whether  there  was  any  change  or  any  effect 
that  could    at.  all  attest  the  power  of  these 

things  upon  their  person  and  character. 
This  is  the  point  which  he  proposed  to 
ascertain  on  his  next  visit  to  them.  "I 
will  come  to  you  shortly,  if  the  Lord  will, 
and  will  know  not  the  speech  of  them 
which  are  puffed  up,  but  the  power.  For 
the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  word,  hut  in 
power."  It  is  not  enough  to  mark  you  as 
the  children  of  this  kingdom  ;  or  as  those 
over  whose  hearts  the  reign  of  God  is  es- 
tablished ;  or  as  those  in  whom  a  prepara- 
tion is  going  on  here  for  a  place  of  glory  and 
blessedness  hereafter — that  you  know  the 


310 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD- 


[SERM. 


terms  of  orthodoxy,  or  that  you  can  speak 
its  language.  If  even  an  actual  belief  in 
ts  doctrine  could  reside  in  your  mind, 
without  fruit  and  without  influence,  this 
would  as  little  avail  you.  But  it  is  well  to 
know,  both  from  experience  and  from  the 
information  of  him  who  knew  what  was  in 
man,  that  an  actual  belief  of  the  Gospel,  is 
at  all  times  an  effectual  belief — that  upon 
the  entrance  of  such  a  belief,  the  kingdom 
of  God  comes  to  us  with  power,  being  that 
which  availeth,  even  faith,  working  by  love, 
and  purifying  the  heart,  and  overcoming 
the  world. 

One  of  the  simplest  cases  of  the  kingdom 
of  God  in  word,  and  not  in  power,  is  that 
of  a  child,  with  its  memory  stored  in  pas- 
sages of  Scriptures,  and  in  all  the  answers 
to  all  the  questions  of  a  substantial  and 
well-digested  catechism.  In  such  an  in- 
stance, the  tongue  may  be  able  to  rehearse 
the  whole  expression  of  evangelical  truth, 
while  neither  the  meaning  of  the  truth  is 
perceived  by  the  understanding,  nor,  of 
consequence,  can  the  moral  influence  of  the 
truth  be  felt  in  the  heart.  The  learner  has 
got  words,  but  nothing  more.  This  is  the 
whole  fiii it  of  his  acquisition;  nor  would 
it  make  any  difference,  in  as  far  as  the  ef- 
fect at  the  time  is  concerned,  though,  in- 
stead of  words  adapted  to  the  expression 
of  Christian  doctrine,  they  had  been  the 
words  of  a  song,  or  a  fable,  or  any  secular 
narrative  and  performance  whatever.  This 
is  all  undeniable  enough — if  we  could  only 
prevail  on  many  men,  and  many  women, 
not  to  deny  its  application  to  themselves — 
if  we  couid  only  convince  our  grown-up 
children  of  the  absolute  futility  of  many  of 
their  exercises — if  we  could  only  arouse 
from  their  dormancy  our  listless  readers 
of  the  Bible — our  men,  who  make  a  mere 
piece-work  of  their  Christianity ;  who,  in 
making  way  through  the  Scriptnres,  do  it 
by  the  page,  and,  in  addressing  prayers  to 
their  Maker,  do  it  by  the  sentence ;  with 
whom  the  perusal  of  the  sacred  volume,  is 
absolutely  little  better  than  a  mere  exercise 
of  the  lip,  or  of  the  eye  ;  and  a  preference 
for  orthodoxy  is  little  better  than  a  prefer- 
ence for  certain  familiar  and  well-known 
sounds;  where  the  thinking  principle  is  al- 
most never  in  contact  with  the  matter  of 
theological  truth,  however  conversant  both 
their  mouths  and  their  memories  may  be 
with  the  language  of  it — so  that  in  fact  the 
doctrine  by  the  knowledge  of  which,  and 
the  power  of  which  it  is,  that  we  are  saved, 
lies  as  effectually  hidden  from  their  minds, 
as  if  it  lay  wrapt  in  hieroglyphical  obscu- 
rity ;  or,  as  if  their  intellectual  organ  was 
shut  against  all  communication  with  any 
thing  without  them ;  and  thus  it  is,  that 
what  is  not  perceived  by  the  mental  eye, 
having  no  possible  operation  upon  the  men- 
tal feelings,  or  mental  purposes,  the  king- 


dom of  God  cometh  to  them  in  word  only 
while  not  in  power. 

But  again,  what  is  translated  word  in  this 
verse,  is  also  capable  of  being  rendered  by 
the  term  reason.     It  may  not  only  denote 
that  which  constitutes  the  material  vehicle 
by  which  the  argument  conceived  in  the 
mind    of  one  man  is   translated   into  the 
mind  of  another;  it  may  also  denote  the 
argument   itself;    and   when   rendered   in 
this  way,  it  offers  to  our  notice  a  very  in- 
teresting case,  of  which  there  are  not  want- 
ing many  exemplifications.     In  the   case 
just  now  adverted  to,  the  mere  word  is  in 
the  mouth,  without  its  corresponding  idea 
being  in  the  mind ;  but  in  the  case  imme- 
diately before  us,  ideas  are  present  as  well 
as  words,  and  every  intellectual  faculty  is 
at  its  post,  for  the  purpose  of  entertaining 
them — the  attention  most  thoroughly  awake 
— and  the  curiosity  on  the  stretch  of  its  ut- 
most eagerness — and  the  judgment   most 
busily  employed  in  the  work  of  comparing 
one  doctrine,  and  one  declaration  with  an- 
other— and  the  reason  conducting  its  long 
or  its  intricate  processes ;  and,  in  a  word, 
the  whole  machinery  of  the  mind  as  power- 
fully stimulated  by  a  theological,  as  it  ever 
can  be  by  a  natural  or  scientific  specula- 
tion— and  yet,  with  this  seeming  advance- 
ment that  it  makes  from  the  language  of 
Christianity    to    the    substance   of    Chris- 
tianity, what  shall  we  think  of  it,  if  there 
be  no  advancement  whatever  in  the  power 
of  Christianity — no  accession  to  the  soul 
of   any  one  of    those    three    ingredients, 
which,  taken  together,  make  up  the  apos- 
tle's definition  of  the  kingdom  of  God — no 
augmentation  either  of  its  righteousness,  or 
its  peace,  or  its  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost — 
the  man,  no  doubt,  very  much  engrossed  and 
exercised  with  the  subject  of  divinity,  but 
with  as  little  of  the  real  spirit  and  charac- 
ter of  divinity,  thereby  transferred  into  his 
own  spirit,  and  his  own  character,  as  if  he 
were  equally  engrossed  and  equally  exer- 
cised with  the  subject  of  mathematics — re- 
maining, in   short,  after  all  his  doctrinal 
acquisitions  of  the  truth,  an  utter  stranger 
to  the  moral  influence  of  the  truth  ;  and 
proving,  in  the  fact  of  his  being  practically 
and  personally  the  very  same  man  as  be- 
fore, that  if  the  kingdom  of  God   is  not 
in  word,  it  is  as  little  in  argument,  but  in 
power. 

If  it  be  of  importance  to  know,  that  a 
man  may  lay  hold,  by  his  memory,  of  all 
the  language  of  Christianity,  and  yet  not 
be  a  Christian — it  is  also  of  importance  to 
know  that  a  man  ma}r  lay  hold  by  his  un- 
derstanding, of  all  the  doctrine  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  yet  not  be  a  Christian.  It  is 
our  opinion,  that,  in  this  case  the  man  has 
only  an  apparent  belief,  without  having  an 
actual  belief — that  all  the  doctrine  is  con- 
ceived by  him,  without  being  credited  by 


VIII.] 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  KINGDOM  OF  COD. 


311 


him — that  it  is  the  object  of  his  fancy, 
without  being  the  object  of  his  faith — and 
that,  as  on  the  one  hand,  if  the  conviction 
be  real,  the  consequence  of  another  heart, 
and  another  character,  will  be  sure  ;  so,  on 
the  other  hand,  and  on  the  principle,  of 
"by  their  fruits  shall  ye  know  them,"  if  he 
want  the  fruit,  it  is  just  because  he  is  in 
want  of  the  foundation — if  there  be  no  pro- 
duce, it  is  because  there  is  no  principle ; 
having  experienced  no  salvation  from  sin 
here,  he  shall  experience  no  salvation  from 
the  abode  of  sinners  hereafter.  If  faith 
were  present  with  him,  he  would  be  kept 
by  the  powers  of  it  unto  salvation,  from 
both  ;  but  destitute  as  he  proves  himself  to 
be  now  of  the  faith  which  sanctifies,  he  will 
be  found  then,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  sem- 
blances, and  all  his  delusions,  to  have  been 
equally  destitute  of  the  faith  which  justifies. 
And  it  is,  perhaps,  not  so  difficult  to  stir 
up  in  the  mind  of  the  learned  controver- 
sialist, and  the  deeply-exercised  scholar,  the 
suspicion,  that  with  all  his  acquirements 
in  the  lore  of  theology,  he  is,  in  respect  of 
its  personal  influence  upon  himself,  still  in 
a  state  of  moral  and  spiritual  unsoundness, 
it  is  not  so  difficult  to  raise  this  feeling  of 
self-condemnation  in  his  mind,  as  it  is  to  do 
it  in  the  mind  of  him  who  has  selected  his 
one  favourite  article,  and  there,  resolved,  if 
die  he  must,  to  die  hard,  has  taken  up  his 
obstinate  and  immoveable  position — and 
retiring  within  the  intrenchment  of  a  few 
verses  of  the  Bible,  will  defy  all  the  truth 
and  all  the  thunder  of  its  remaining  decla- 
rations ;  and  with  an  orthodoxy  which  car- 
rier (in  all  its  play  in  his  head,  without  one 
moving  or  one  softening  touch  upon  his 
heart,  will  stand  nut  to  the  eye  of  the  world, 
both  in  avowed  principle,  and  in  its  corres- 
ponding practice,  a  secure,  sturdy,  firm, 
impregnable  Antinomian.  He  thinks  that 
he  will  have  heaven,  heeause  he  has  faith. 
But  if  his  faith  do  n  t  bring  the  virtues  of 
heaven  into  his  heart,  it  will  never  spread 
either  the  glory  or  the  security  of  heaven 
around  his  person.  The  region  to  which 
he  vainly  thinks  of  looking  forward,  is  a 
region  of  spirituality  ;  and  he  himself  must 
be  spiritual!/.  !.  ere  it  can  prove  to  him  a 
region  of  enjoyment.  If  he  count  on  a 
differenl  paradise  from  this,  he  is  as  widely 
mistaken  as  'hey  who  dream  of  the  luxury 
that  awaits  them  in  th(>  paradise  of  Maho- 
met. He  misinterprets  the  whole  under- 
taking of  Jesus  <'hrist.  He  degrades  the 
salvation  which  He  hath  achieved,  into  a 
salvation  from  animal  pain.  He  transforms 
the  heaven  which  He  has  opened  into  a 
heaven  of  animal  gratifications.  He  for- 
gets, that  on  the  great  errand  of  man 
storation,  it  is  not  more  necessary  to  l 
our  departed  species  to  the  heaven  from 
which  they  had  wandered,  than  it  is  to  re- 
nal to  the  bosom  of  man  its  departed  worth, 


and  its  departed  excellence.  The  one  is 
what  faith  will  do  on  the  other  side  of 
time.  But  the  other  just  as  certainly  faith 
must  do  on  this  side  of  time.  It  is  hefe 
that  heaven  begins.  It  is  here  that  eternal 
life  is  entered  upon.  It  is  here  that  man 
first  breathes  the  air  of  immortality.  It  is 
upon  earth  that  he  learns  the  rudiments  of 
a  celestial  character,  and  first  tastes  of  ce- 
lestial enjoyments.  It  is  here,  that  the  well 
of  water  is  struck  out  in  the  heart  of  reno- 
vated man,  and  that  fruit  is  made  to  grow 
unto  holiness,  and  then,  in  the  end,  there  is 
life  everlasting.  The  man  whose  thread- 
bare orthodoxy  is  made  up  of  meagre  and 
unfruitful  positions,  may  think  that  he 
walks  in  clearness,  while  he  is  only  walk- 
ing in  the  cold  light  of  speculation.  He 
walks  in  the  feeble  sparks  of  his  own  kin- 
dling. Were  it  fire  from  the  sanctuary,  it 
would  impart,  to  his  unregenerated  bosom, 
of  the  heat,  and  spirit,  and  love  of  the  sanc- 
tuary. This  is  the  sure  result  of  the  faith 
that  is  unfeigned — and  all  that  a  feigned 
faith  can  possibly  make  out,  will  be  a  ficti- 
tious title  deed,  which  will  not  stand  before 
the  light  of  the  great  day  of  final  examina- 
tion. And  thus  will  it  he  found,  I  fear,  in 
many  cases  of  marked  and  ostentatious  pro- 
fessorship, how  possible  a  thing  it  is  to 
have  an  appearance  of  the  kingdom  of  God 
in  word,  and  the  kingdom  of  God  in  letter, 
and  the  kingdom  of  God  in  controversy — 
while  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  power. 
But  once  more— instead  of  laying  a  false 
security  upon  one  article,  it  is  possible  to 
have  a  mind  familiarized  to  all  the  articles 
—to  admit  the  need  of  holiness,  and  to 
demonstrate  the  channel  of  influence  by 
which  it  is  brought  down  from  heaven 
upon  the  hearts  of  believers— to  cast  an  eye 
of  intelligence  over  the  whole  symphony 
and  extent  of  Christian  doctrine — to  lay 
bare  those  ligaments  of  connection  by 
which  a  true  faith  in  the  mind  is  ever  sure 
to  bring  a  new  spirit  and  a  new  practice 
along  with  it :  and  to  hold  up  the  lights 
both  of  Scripture  and  of  experience,  over  the 
whole  process  of  man's  regeneration.  It  is 
possible  for  one  to  do  all  this— and  yet  to 
have  no  part  in  that  regeneration— to  de- 
clare with  ability  and  effect  the  Cospel  to 
others,  and  yet  himself  be  cast  away — to 
unravel  the  whole  of  that  spiritual  mechan- 
ism, by  which  a  sinner  is  transformed  into 
a  saint,  while  l;e  does  noi  exemplify  that 

p.isin  upon  his  own  person— "to  ex- 
plain what  must  be  cone,  what  must  be 
undergone  in  the  process  of  becoming  one 

children  of  the  kingdom,  while  he 
remains  one  of  the  children  of  this  world. 
To  him  the  kingdom  of  God  hath  come  in 

and  it  hath  come  in  letter,  and  it 
hath  come  in  natural  discernment;  but  it 
hath  not  come  in  power.  He  may  have 
profoundly  studied  the  whole  doctrine  of 


312 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD. 


[sERM. 


the  kingdom — and  have  conceived  the  va- 
rious ideas  of  which  it  is  composed — and 
have  embodied  them  in  words — and  have 
poured  them  forth  in  utterance — and  yet 
be  as  little  spiritualized  by  these  manifold 
operations,  as  the  air  is  spiritualized  by  its 
being  the  avenue  for  the  sounds  of  his 
voice  to  the  ears  of  his  listening  auditory. 
The  living  man  may,  with  all  the  force  of 
his  active  intelligence,  be  a  mere  vehicle  of 
transmission.  The  Holy  Ghost  may  leave 
the  message  to  take  its  own  way  through 
his  mind — and  may  refuse  the  accession  of 
his  influence,  till  it  make  its  escape  from 
the  lips  of  the  preacher — and  may  trust  for 
its  conveyance  to  those  aerial  undulations 
by  which  the  report  is  carried  forward  to 
an  assembled  multitude — and  may  only, 
after  the  entrant  of  hearing  has  been  ef- 
fected for  the  terms  of  the  message,  may 
only,  after  the  unaided  powers  of  moral 
and  physical  nature  have  brought  the  mat- 
ter thus  far,  may  then,  and  not  till  then, 
add  his  own  influence  to  the  truths  of  the 
message,  and  send  them  with  this  impreg- 
nation from  the  ear  to  the  conscience  of 
any  whom  he  listeth.  And  thus  from  the 
workings  of  a  cold  and  desolate  bosom  in 
the  human  expounder,  may  there  proceed 
a  voice  which  on  its  way  to  some  of  those 
who  are  assembled  around  him,  shall  turn 
out  to  be  a  voice  of  urgency  and  power. 
He  may  be  the  instrument  of  blessings  to 
others,  which  have  never  come  with  kindly 
or  effective  influence  upon  his  own  heart. 
He  may  inspire  an  energy,  which  he  does 
not  feel,  and  pour  a  comfort  into  the 
wounded  spirit,  the  taste  of  which,  and  the 
enjoyment  of  which  is  not  permitted  to  his 
own — and  nothing  can  serve  more  effec- 
tually than  this  experimental  fact  to  hum- 
ble him,  and  to  demonstrate  the  existence 
of  a  power  which  cannot  be  wielded  by  all 
the  energies  of  Nature — a  power  often  re- 
fused to  eloquence,  often  refused  to  the 
might  and  the  glory  of  human  wisdom — 
often  refused  to  the  most  strenuous  exer- 
tions of  human  might  and  human  talent, 
and  generally  met  with  in  richest  abun- 
dance among  the  ministrations  of  the  men 
of  simplicity  and  prayer. 

Some  of  you  have  heard  of  the  individual, 
who,  under  an  oppression  of  the  severest 
melancholy,  implored  relief  and  counsel 


from  his  physician.  The  unhappy  patient 
was  advised  to  attend  the  performances  of 
a  comedian,  who  had  put  all  the  world  in 
ecstacies.  But  it  turned  out,  that  the  patient 
was  the  comedian  himself — and  that  while 
his  smile  was  the  signal  of  merriment  to  all, 
his  heart  stood  uncheered  and  motionless, 
amid  the  gratulations  of  an  applauding 
theatre — and  evening  after  evening,  did  he 
kindle  around  him  a  rapture  in  which  he 
could  not  participate — a  poor,  helpless,  de- 
jected mourner,  among  the  tumults  of  that 
high-sounding  gaiety,  Avhich  he  himself  had 
created. 

Let  all  this  touch  our  breasts  with  the 
persuasion  of  the  nothingness  oi  man.  Let 
it  lead  us  to  withdraw  our  confidence  from 
the  mere  instrument,  and  to  carry  it  up- 
wards to  him  who  alone  worketh  all  in  all. 
Let  it  reconcile  us  to  the  arrangements  of 
his  providence,  and  assure  our  minds,  that 
he  can  do  with  one  arrangement,  what  we 
fondly  anticipated  from  another.  Let  us 
cease  to  be  violently  affected  by  the  muta- 
bilities of  a  fleeting  and  a  shifting  world — 
and  let  nothing  be  suffered  the  power  ol 
dissolving  for  an  instant,  that  connection  of 
trust  which  should  ever  subsist  between  our 
minds  and  the  will  of  the  all-working  Deity. 
Above  all,  let  us  carefully  separate  between 
our  liking  for  certain  accompaniments  of 
the  word,  and  our  liking  for  the  word  it- 
self. Let  us  be  jealous  of  those  human  pre- 
ferences which  may  bespeak  some  human 
and  adventitious  influence  upon  our  hearts, 
and  be  altogether  different  from  the  influ- 
ence of  Christian  truth  upon  Christianized 
and  sanctified  affections.  Let  us  be  tena- 
cious only  of  one  thing — not  of  holding  by 
particular  ministers — not  of  saying,  that  "I 
am  Paul,  or  Cephas,  or  Apollos" — not  of 
idolizing  the  servant,  while  the  Master  is 
forgotten, — but  let  us  hold  by  the  Head, 
even  Christ.  He  is  the  source  of  all  spirit- 
ual influence — and  while  the  agents  whom 
he  employs,  can  do  no  more  than  bring  the 
kingdom  of  God  to  you  in  word — it  lies 
with  him  either  to  exalt  one  agency,  or  to 
humble  and  depress  another — and  either 
with  or  without  such  an  agency,  by  the 
demonstration  of  that  Spirit,  which  is  given 
unto  faith,  to  make  the  kingdom  of  God 
come  into  your  hearts  with  power. 


ix.l 


ON  THE  REASONABLENESS  OF  FAITH. 


313 


SERMON  IX. 

On  the  Reasonableness  of  Faith. 

"  But  before  faith  came,  we  were  kept  under  the  law,  shut  up  unto  the  faith  which  should  afterwards  be 

revealed." — Galaliaiis  iii.  23. 


"Shut  up  unto  the  faith."  This  is  the 
expression  which  we  fix  upon  as  the  subject 
of  our  present  discourse — and  to  let  you 
more  effectually  into  the  meaning  of  it,  it 
may  be  right  to  state,  that  in  the  preceding 
clause  "  kept  under  the  law,"  the  term  kept, 
is,  in  the  original  Greek,  derived  from  a 
word  which  signifies  a  sentinel.  The  mode 
of  conception  is  altogether  military.  The 
law  is  made  to  act  the  part  of  a  sentry, 
guarding  every  avenue  but  one — and  that 
one  leads  those  who  are  compelled  to  take 
it  to  the  faith  of  the  Gospel.  They  are  shut 
up  to  this  faith  as  their  only  alternative — 
like  an  enemy  driven  by  the  superior  tac- 
tics of  an  opposing  general,  to  take  up  the 
only  position  in  which  they  can  maintain 
themselves,  or  fly  to  the  only  town  in  which 
they  can  find  a  refuge  or  a  security.  This 
seems  to  have  been  a  favourite  style  of  ar- 
gument with  Paul,  and  the  way  in  which 
he  often  carried  on  an  intellectual  warfare 
with  the  enemies  of  his  master's  cause.  It 
forms  the  basis  of  that  masterly  and  deci- 
sive train  of  reasoning,  which  we  have  in 
his  epistle  to  the  Romans.  By  the  operation 
of  a  skilful  tactics,  he,  (if  we  may  be  al- 
lowed the  expression)  manoeuvred  them, 
and  shut  them  up  to  the  faith  of  the  Gospel. 
It  gave  prodigious  effect  to  his  argument, 
when  he  reasoned  with  them,  as  he  often 
does,  upon  their  own  principles,  and  turned 
them  into  instruments  of  conviction  against 
themselves.  With  the  Jews  he  reasoned  as 
a  Jew.  He  made  a  full  concession  to  them 
of  the  leading  principles  of  Judaism — and 
this  gave  him  possession  of  the  vantage 
ground  upon  which  these  principles  stood. 
He  made  use  of  the  Jewish  law  as  a  senti- 
nel to  shut  them  out  of  every  other  refuge, 
and  to  shut  them  up  to  the  refuge  laid  be- 
fore them  in  the  Gospel.  He  led  them  to 
Christ  by  a  school-master  which  they  could 
not  refuse — and  the  lesson  of  this  school- 
master, though  a  very  decisive,  was  a  very 
short  one.  "  Cursed  be  he  that  continueth 
not  in  all  the  words  of  this  law  to  do  them." 
But,  in  point  of  fact,  they  had  not  done 
them.  To  them  belonged  the  curse  of  the 
violated  law.  The  awful  severity  of  its 
sanctions  was  upon  them.  They  found  the 
faith  and  the  free  offer  of  the  Gospel  to  be 
the  only  avenue  open  to  receive  them.  They 
were  shut  up  unto  this  avenue;  and  the  law, 
by  concluding  them  all  to  be  under  sin,  left 
them  no  other  outlet  but  the  free  act  of  grace 
40 


and  of  mercy  laid  before  us  in  the  Now  Tes- 
tament. 

But  this  is  not  the  only  example  of  that 
peculiar  way  in  which  St.  Paul  has  managed 
his  discussions  with  the  enemies  of  the  faith. 
He  carried  the  principle  of  being  all  things 
to  all  men  into  his  very  reasonings.  He  had 
Gentiles  as  well  as  Jews  to  contend  with ; 
and  he  often  made  some  sentiment  or  con- 
viction of  their  own,  the  starting  point  of 
his  argument.  In  this  same  epistle  to  the 
Romans,  he  pleaded  with  the  Gentiles  the 
acknowledged  law  of  nature  and  of  con- 
science. In  his  speech  to  the  men  of  Athens, 
he  dated  his  argument  from  a  point  in  their 
own  superstition.  In  this  way  he  drew  con- 
verts both  from  the  ranks  of  Judaism,  and 
the  ranks  of  idolatry ;  and  whether  it  was 
the  school  of  Gamaliel  in  Jerusalem,  or  the 
school  of  poetry  and  philosophy  in  coun- 
tries of  refinement,  that  he  had  to  contend 
with,  his  accomplished  mind  was  never  at 
a  loss  for  principles  by  which  he  bore  down 
the  hostility  of  his  adversaries,  and  shut 
them  up  unto  the  faith. 

But  there  is  a  fashion  in  philosophy  as  well 
as  in  other  things.  In  the  course  of  centu- 
ries, new  schools  are  formed,  and  the  old, 
with  all  their  doctrines,  and  all  their  plausi- 
bilities, sink  into  oblivion.  The  restless  ap- 
petite of  the  human  mind  for  speculation, 
must  have  novelties  to  feed  upon — and  after 
the  countless  fluctuations  of  two  thousand 
years,  the  age  in  which  we  live  has  its  own 
taste,  and  its  own  style  of  sentiment  to  cha- 
racterize it.  If  Paul,  vested  with  a  new 
apostolical  commission,  were  to  make  his 
appearance  amongst  us,  we  should  like  to 
know  how  he  would  shape  h  is  argument 
to  the  reigning  taste  and  philosophy  of  the 
times.  We  should  like  to  confront  him  with 
the  literati  of  the  day,  and  hear  hi  in  lift  his 
intrepid  voice  in  our  halls  and  colleges.  In 
his  speech  to  the  men  of  Athens,  he  refers 
to  certain  of  their  own  poets.  We  should 
like  to  hear  his  reference  to  the  poetry  and 
the  publications  of  modern  Europe — and 
while;  the  science  of  this  cultivated  age 
stood  to  listen  in  all  the  pride  of  academic 
dignity,  we  should  like  to  know  the  argu- 
ments of  him  who  was  determined  to  know 
nothing  save  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified. 

But  all  this  is  little  better  than  the  indul- 
gence of  a  dream.  St.  Paul  lias  already 
fought  the  good  fight,  and  his  course  is 
finished.    The  battles  of  the  faith  are  now 


314 


ON  THE  REASONABLENESS  OF  FAITH. 


[SERM 


in  other  hands — and  though  the  wisdom, 
and  the  eloquence,  and  the  inspiration  of 
Paul  have  departed  from  among  us,  yet  he 
has  left  behind  him  the  record  of  his  princi- 
ples. With  this  for  our  guide,  we  may  at- 
tempt to  d<>  what  he  himself  calls  upon  us 
to  do.  We  may  attempt  to  be  followers  of 
him.  We  may  imitate  him  in  the  intrepid 
avowal  of  his  principles — and  we  may  try, 
however  humbly  and  imperfectly,  to  imi- 
tate his  style  of  defending  them.  We  may 
accommodate  our  argument  to  the  reigning 
principles  of  the  day.  We  may  be  all  things 
to  all  men — and  out  of  the  leading  varieties 
of  taste  and  of  sentiment  which  obtain  in 
the  present  age,  and  in  the  present  country, 
we  may  try  if  we  can  collect  something, 
which  may  be  turned  into  an  instrument  of 
conviction  for  reclaiming  men  from  their 
delusions,  and  shutting  them  up  unto  the 
faith. 

There  is  first,  then,  the  school  of  Natural 
Religion — a  school  founded  on  the  compe- 
tency of  the  human  mind  to  know  God  by 
the  exercise  of  its  own  faculties — to  clothe 
him  in  the  attributes  of  its  own  demonstra- 
tion— to  serve  him  by  a  worship  and  a  law 
of  its  own  discovery — and  to  assign  to  him 
a  mode  of  procedure  in  the  administration 
of  this  vast  universe,  upon  the  strength  and 
the  plausibility  of  its  own  theories.  We  have 
not  time  at  present,  for  exposing  the  rash 
and  unphilosophical  audacity  of  all  these 
presumptions.  We  lay  hold  of  one  of  them, 
and  we  maintain,  that  if  steadily  adhered 
to,  and  consistently  carried  into  its  conse- 
quences, it  would  empty  the  school  of  na- 
tural religion  of  all  its  disciples — it  would 
shut  them  up  unto  the  faith,  and  impress 
one  rapid  and  universal  movement  into  the 
school  of  Christ. 

The  principle  which  we  allude  to  makes 
a  capital  figure  in  their  self-formed  specula- 
tions ;  and  it  is  neither  more  nor  less  than 
the  judicial  government  of  God  over  moral 
and  accountable  creatures.  They  hold  that 
there  is  a  law.  They  hold  the  human  race 
to  be  bound  to  obedience.  They  hold  the 
authority  of  the  law  to  be  supported  by 
sanctions ;  and  that  the  truth,  and  justice, 
and  dignity  of  the  Supreme  Being  are  in- 
volved in  these  sanctions  being  enforced 
and  executed.  One  step  more,  and  they 
are  fairly  shut  up  unto  the  faith.  That  law 
which  they  hold  to  be  in  full  authority  and 
operation  over  us,  has  been  most  unques- 
tionably violated.  We  appeal,  as  Paul  did 
before  us*,  to  the  actual  state  of  the  human 
heart,  and  of  human  performances.  We  ask 
them  to  open  their  eyes  to  the  world  around 
them — to  respect,  like  true  philosophers,  the 
evidence  of  observation,  and  not  to  flinch 
from  the  decisive  undeniable  fact  which 
this  evidence  lays  before  them.  Men  are 
under  the  law,  and  that  law  they  have  vio- 
lated. "  There  is  not  a  just  man  on  earth, 


that  sinneth  not."    It  is  not  to  open,  shame, 
less,  and  abandoned  profligacy,  that  we  are 
pointing  your  attention.  We  make  our  con- 
fident appeal  to  the  purest  and  loveliest  of 
the  species.    We  rest  our  cause  with  the 
most  virtuous   individual   of   our   nature. 
We  enter  his  heart,  and  from  what  passes 
there,  we  can  gather  enough,  and  more  than 
enough  to  overthrow  this  tottering  and  un- 
supported fabric.    We  take  a  survey  of  its 
desires,  its  wishes,  its  affections  ;  and  we  put 
the  question  to  the  consciousness  of  its  pos- 
sessor, if  all  these  move  in  obedient  har- 
mony even  to  the  law  of  natural  religion. 
The  external  conduct  viewed  separately  and 
in  itself,  is,  in  the  eye  of  every  enlightened 
moralist,  nothing.  It  is  mere  visible  display. 
Virtue  consists  in  the  motive  which  lies 
behind  it ;  and  the  soul  is  the  place  of  its 
essential  residence.     Bring  the  soul,  then, 
into  immediate  comparison  with  the  law  of 
God.    Think  of  the  pure  and  spiritual  ser- 
vice which  it  exacts  from  you.  Amid  all  the 
busy  and  complicated  movements  of  the 
inner  man,  is  there  no  estrangement  from 
God?    Are  there  no  tumultuous  wander- 
ings from  that  purity,  and  goodness,  and 
truth,  which  even  philosophers  ascribe  to 
him?    Is  there  no  shortcoming  from  the 
holiness  of  his  law,  and  the  magnificence  of 
his  eternity?    Is  there  no  slavish  devotion 
to  the  paltry  things  of  sense  and  of  the 
world  ?   Is  there  no  dreary  interval  of  hours 
together,  when  God  is  unfelt  and  unthought 
of?    Is  there  no  one  time  when  the  mind 
delivers  itself  up  to  the  guidance  of  its  own 
feelings,   and   its  own   vanities — when   it 
moves   at   a  distance   from   heaven ;   and 
whether  in   solitude  or  among  acquaint- 
ances, carries  along,  without  any  reference 
to  that  Being  whose  arm  is   perpetually 
upon  me;  who,  at  this  moment,  is  at  my 
right  hand,  and  measures  out  to  me  every 
hairbreadth  of  my  existence — who  upholds 
me  through  every  point  of  that  time  which 
runs  from  the  first  cry  of  my  infancy,  to  that 
dark  hour  when  the  weight  of  my  dying 
agonies  is  upon  me— whose  love  and  whose 
kindness  are  ever  present  to  give  me  every 
breath  which  I  draw,  and  every  comfort 
which  I  enjoy?    We  grant  the  disciples  of 
natural  religion  the  truth  of  their  own  prin- 
ciple, that  we  are  under  the  moral  govern- 
ment of  the  Almighty  ;  and  by  the  simple 
addition  of  one  undeniable   fact  to   their 
speculation,  we   shut  them    up   unto   the 
faith. 

The  simple  fact  is,  that  we  are  rebels  to 
that  government,  and  the  punishment  of 
these  rebels  is  due  to  the  vindication  of  its 
insulted  authority.  To  say,  that  God  will 
perpetually  interpose  with  an  act  of  oblivion, 
would  be  vastly  convenient,  for  us ;  but 
what  then  becomes  of  that  moral  govern- 
ment which  figures  away  in  the  demonsi ra- 
tions of  moralists?  Does  it  turn  out,  after 


ix.l 


ON  THE  REASONABLENESS  OF  FAITH. 


315 


all,  {p  be  nothing  more  than  an  idle  and 
unmeaning  declamation,  on  which  they 
love  to  expatiate;  without  any  thing  like 
real  attention  or  belief  on  the  part  of  the 
thinking  principle  ?  If  they  are  not  true  to 
their  own  professed  convictions,  we  can 
undertake  to  shut  them  up  to  nothing. 
This  is  slipping  from  under  us  ;  but  it  is  by 
an  actual  desertion  of  their  own  principle. 
If  you  cannot  get  them  to  stand  to  the  ar- 
gument, the  argument  is  discharged  upon 
them  in  vain.  If  this  be  the  result,  we  do 
not  promise  ourselves  that  all  we  can  say 
shall  have  any  weight  upon  their  convic- 
tions ;  not,  however,  because  they  have 
gained  a  victory,  but  because  they  have  be- 
taken themselves  to  flight.  At  the  very  mo- 
ment that  we  thought  of  shutting  them  up, 
and  binding  them  in  captivity  to  the  obe- 
dience of  the  truth,  they  have  turned  about 
and  got  away  from  us*— but  how  ?  By  an 
open  renunciation  of  their  own  principle. 
Look  at  the  great  majority  of  infidel  and 
demi-infidel  authors,  and  they  concur  in 
representing  man  as  an  accountable  subject, 
and  God  as  a  judge  and  a  lawgiver.  Ex- 
amine then  the  account  which  this  subject 
has  to  render ;  and  you  will  see,  in  charac- 
ters to  glaring  to  be  resisted,  that  with  the 
purest  and  most  perfect  individual  amongst, 
us,  it  is  a  wretched  account  of  guilt  and  de- 
ficiency. What  make  you,  of  this  ?  Is  the 
subject  to  rebel  and  disobey  every  hour, 
and  the  King,  by  a  perpetual  act  of  indul- 
gence, to  efface  every  character  of  truth 
and  dignity  from  his  government?  Do  this, 
and  you  depose  the  legislator  from  his 
throne.  You  reduce  the  sanctions  of  his 
law  to  a  name  and  a  mockery.  You  give 
the  lie  to  your  own  speculation,  You  pull 
the  fabric  of  his  moral  government  to 
pieces ;  and  you  give  a  spectacle  to  angels 
which  makes  them  weep  compassion  on 
your  vanity — poor,  pigmy,  perishable  man, 
prescribing  a  way  to  the  Eternal,  and  bring- 
ing down  the  high  economy  of  Heaven  to 
the  standard  of  his  convenience,  and  his 
wishes.  This  will  never  do.  If  there  be 
any  truth  in  the  law  of  God  over  the  crea- 
tures whom  he  has  formed,  and  if  that  law 
we  have  trampled  upon,  we  are  amenable 
to  its  sentence.  Ours  is  the  dark  and  un- 
sheltered state  of  condemnation — and  if 
there  be  a  single  outlet  or  way  of  escaping, 
it  cannot  be  such  a  way  as  will  abolish  the 
law,  and  degrade  the  Lawgiver;  but  it  must 
be  such  a  way  as  will  vindicate  and  exalt 
the  Deity — as  will  pour  a  tide  of  splendour 
over  the  majesty  of  his  high  attributes — 
and  as  in  the  sublime  language  of  the  pro- 
phet, who  saw  it  from  afar,  will  magnify 
his  law,  and  make  it  honourable.  To  this 
way  we  are  fairly  shut  up.  It  is  our  only 
alternative.  It  is  offered  to  us  in  the  Gos- 
pel of  the  New  Testament.  I  am  the  way, 
says  the  Author  of  that  Gospel,  and  by  me, 


if  any  man  enter  in,  he  shall  be  saved.  In 
the  appointment  of  this  Mediat  r — in  his 
death,  to  make  propitiation  for  the  sins  of 
the  world — in  his  triumph  over  the  powers 
of  darkness — in  tiie  voice  heard  from  the 
clouds  of  heaven,  and  issuing  from  the 
mouth  of  God  himself,  "  This  is  my  beloved 
Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased'' — in  the 
resistless  argument  of  the  Apostle,  who  de- 
clares God  to  be  just,  and  the  justifier  of 
him  that  believeth  in  Jesus — in  the  un- 
doubted miracles  which  accompanied  the 
preaching  of  this  illustrious  personage,  and 
his  immediate  followers — in  the  noble  train 
of  prophecy,  of  which  he  was  the  object 
and  the  termination — in  the  choir  of  angels 
from  heaven,  who  sung  his  entrance  into 
the  world — and  in  the  sublime  ascension 
from  the  grave,  which  carried  him  away 
from  it — in  all  this  we  see  a  warrant  and  a 
security  given  to  the  work  of  our  redemp- 
tion in  the  New  Testament,  before  which 
philosophy  and  ah  her  speculations  vanish 
into  nothing.  Let  us  betake  ourselves  to  this 
way.  Let  us  rejoice  in  being  shut  up  unto  it. 
It  is  passing,  in  fact,  from  death  unto  life;  or, 
from  our  being  under  the  law,  which  speaks 
tribulation  and  wrath  to  every  soul  of  man 
that  doeth  evil,  to  being  under  the  grace 
which  speaks  quietness  and  assurance  for 
ever  to  all  that  repair  to  it.  The  Scripture 
hath  concluded  all  to  be  under  sin,  that  the 
promise  by  faith  of  Jesus  Christ  might  be 
given  to  them  that  believe. 

We  now  pass  on  from  the  school  of  na- 
tural religion  to  another  school,  possessing 
distinct  features ;  and  of  which  we  con- 
ceive the  most  expressive  designation  to  be, 
the  school  of  Classical  Morality.  The  les- 
sons of  this  school  are  given  to  the  public 
in  the  form  of  periodical  essays,  elaborate 
dissertations  on  the  principles  of  virtue,  elo- 
quent and  often  highly  interesting  pictures 
of  its  loveliness  and  dignity,  the  charm  that 
it  imparts  to  domestic  retirement,  and  its 
happy  subservience  to  the  peace,  and  order, 
and  well-being  of  society.  It  differs  from 
the  former  school  in  one  leading  particular 
It  does  not  carry  in  its  speculations  so  dis- 
tinct and  positive  a  reference  to  the  Su- 
preme Being.  It  is  true,  that  our  duties  to 
him  are  found  to  occupy  a  place  in  the  cata- 
logue of  its  virtues,  but  then  the  principle 
on  which  they  are  made  to  rest,  is  not  the 
will  of  God,  or  obedience  to  his  law.  They 
are  rather  viewed  as  a  species  of"  moral  ac- 
complishment, the  effect  of  which  is  to  ex- 
alt and  embellish  the  individual.  They 
form  a  component  part  of  what  they  call 
virtue ;  but  if  their  virtue  be  looked  upon  in 
no  other  light  than  as  the  dress  of  the  mind, 
we  maintain,  that  in  the  act  of  admiring 
this  dress,  and  of  even  attempting  t « >  put  it 
on,  you  may  stand  at  as  great  a  distance 
from  God,  and  he  be  as  little  in  your 
thoughts,  as  in  the  tasteful  choice  of  your 


316 


ON  THE  REASONABLENESS  OF  FAITH. 


[SERM. 


apparel,  for  the  dress  and  ornament  of  the 
body.  The  object  of  these  writers  is  not 
to  bring  their  readers  under  a  sense  of  the 
dominion  and  authority  of  God.  The  main 
principle  of  their  morality,  is  not  to  please 
God,  but  to  adorn  man — to  throw  the 
splendour  of  virtue  and  accomplishment 
around  him — to  bring  him  up  to  what  they 
call  the  end  and  dignity  of  his  being — to 
raise  him  to  the  perfection  of  his  nature — 
and  to  rear  a  spectacle  for  the  admiration 
of  men  and  of  angels,  whom  they  figure  to 
look  down  with  rapture,  from  their  high 
eminence,  on  the  perseverance  of  a  mortal 
in  the  career  of  worth,  and  integrity,  and 
honour.  This  is  all  very  fine.  It  makes 
a  good  picture ;  but  what  we  insist  upon  is, 
that  it  is  a  fancy  picture ;  that,  without  the 
limits  of  Christianity  and  its  influence,  you 
will  not  meet  with  a  single  family,  or  a  sin- 
gle individual  to  realize  it — that  the  whole 
range  of  human  experience  furnishes  no 
resemblance  to  it — and  that  it  is  as  unlike 
to  what  we  find  among  the  men  of  the 
world,  or  in  the  familiar  walks  of  society, 
as  the  garden  of  Eden  is  unlike  the  desola- 
tion of  a  pestilence.  The  representation  is 
beautiful;  but  it  is  still  more  flattering  than 
it  is  fair.  It  is  a  gaudy  deception,  and 
stands  at  as  great  a  distance  from  the  truth 
of  observation,  as  it  does  from  the  truth  of 
the  New  Testament.  There  is  positively 
nothing  like  it  in  the  whole  round  of  hu- 
man experience.  It  is  the  mere  glitter  of 
imagination.  It  may  serve  to  throw  a  tinsel 
colouring  over  the  pages  of  an  ambitious 
eloquence ;  but  with  business  and  reality 
for  our  objects,  we  may  describe  the  tour 
of  many  thousand  families,  or  take  our  sta- 
tion for  years  in  the  market-place,  and  in 
our  attempts  to  realize  the  picture  which 
has  been  laid  before  us,  we  will  be  sure  to 
meet  with  nothing  but  vanity,  fatigue,  and 
disappointment.  Now,  the  question  we 
have  to  put  to  the  disciples  of  this  school 
is,  are  they  really  sincere  in  this  admira- 
tion of  virtue  ?  Is  it  a  true  process  of  senti- 
ment within  them  ?  We  are  willing  to 
share  in  their  admiration  and  to  ascend  the 
highest  summit  of  moral  excellence  along 
with  them.  We  join  issue  with  them  on 
their  own  principle,  and  coupling  it  with 
the  obvious  and  undeniable  facts  of  man's 
depravity,  we  shut  them  up  unto  the  faith. 
Virtue  is  the  idol  which  they  profess  to 
venerate ;  and  this  virtue,  as  it  exists  in 
their  own  conceptions,  and  figures  in  their 
own  dissertations,  they  cannot  find.  In  pro- 
portion to  their  regard  for  virtue,  must  be 
their  disappointment  at  missing  her ;  and 
when  we  witness  the  ardour  of  their  senti- 
ments, and  survey  the  elegance  of  their 
high-wrought  pictures,  what  must  be  the 
humiliation  of  these  men,  we  think,  when 
they  look  on  the  world  around  them,  and 
contrast  the  purity  of  their  own  sketches, 


with  the  vices  and  the  degradation  of  the 
species.  Grosser  beings  may  be  satisfied 
with  the  average  morality  of  mankind  ;  but 
if  their  be  any  truth  in  their  high  standard 
of  perfection,  or  any  sincerity  in  their  as- 
pirations after  it,  it  is  impossible  that  they 
can  be  satisfied.  By  one  single  step  do  we 
lead  them  from  the  high  tone  of  academic 
sentiment,  to  the  sober  humility  of  the  Gos- 
pel. Give  them  their  time  to  expatiate  on 
virtue,  and  they  cannot  be  too  loud  or  elo- 
quent in  her  praises.  We  have  only  a  sin- 
gle sentence  to  add  to  their  description : 
The  picture  is  beautiful,  but  on  the  whole 
surface  of  the  world  we  defy  them  to  fasten 
upon  one  exemplification  ;  and  by  every 
grace  which  they  have  thrown  around  their 
idoi,  and  every  addition  they  have  made  to 
her  loveliness,  they  have  only  thrown  man- 
kind at  a  distance  more  helpless  and  more 
irrecoverable  from  "their  high  standard  of 
duty  and  of  excellence. 

The  tasteful  admirer  of  eloquent  des- 
cription and  beautiful  morality,  turns  with 
disgust  from  those  mortifying  pictures  of 
man,  which  abound  in  the  New  Testament. 
We  only  ask  them  to  combine,  with  all  this 
finery  and  eloquence,  what  has  been  esteem- 
ed as  the  best  attribute  of  a  philosopher, 
respect  for  the  evidence  of  observation. 
We  ask  them  to  look  at  man  as  he  is,  and 
compare  him  with  man  as  they  would  have 
him  to  be.  If  they  find  that  he  falls  miser- 
ably short  of  their  ideal  standard  of  excel- 
lence, what  is  this  but  making  a  principle 
of  their  own  the  instrument  of  shutting 
them  up  unto  the  faith  of  the  Gospel,  or,  at 
least,  shutting  them  up  unto  one  of  the 
most  peculiar  of  its  doctrines,  the  depravity 
of  our  nature,  or  the  dismal  ravage  which 
the  power  of  sin  has  made  upon  the  moral 
constitution  of  the  species.  The  doctrine 
of  the  academic  moralist,  so  far  from  reach- 
ing a  wound  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Apostle, 
gives  an  additional  energy  to  all  his  senti- 
ments. "My  mind  approves  the  things 
which  are  more  excellent,  but  how  to  per- 
form that  which  is  good,  I  find  not."  "  I 
delight  in  the  law  of  God  after  the  inward 
man."  "But  the  good  that  I  would,  I  do 
not,  and  the  evil  that  I  would  not,  that 
I  do." 

But  the  faith  of  the  Gospel  does  not  stop 
here.  It  does  not  rest,  satisfied  with  shut- 
ting you  up  unto  a  belief  of  the  fact  of  hu- 
man depravity.  That  depravity  it  proposes 
to  do  away.  It  professes  itself  equal  to  the 
mighty  achievement  of  rooting  out  the 
deeply  seated  corruption  of  our  nature — of 
making  us  new  creatures  in  Christ  Jesus— 
of  destroying  the  old  man  and  his  deeds, 
and  bringing  every  rebellious  movement 
within  us  under  the  dominion  of  a  new 
and  a  better  principle.  If  sincere  in  your 
admiration  of  virtue,  you  are  shut  up  unto 
the  only  expedient  for  the  re-establishment 


IX.] 


ON  THE  REASONABLENESS  OF  FAITH. 


117 


of  virtue  in  the  world.  That  expedient  is 
the  Spirit  of  God  working  in  the  heart  of 
believers — quickening  those  who  were  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins,  and  bringing  into 
action  the  same  mighty  power  which  raised 
Jesus  from  the  grave,  for  raising  us  who 
believe  in  Jesus  to  newness  of  life  and 
of  obedience.  This  is  the  process  of  sancti- 
fication  laid  before  us  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment. A  wonderful  process  it  undoubtedly 
is ;  but  are  we  who  walk  in  a  world  of 
mystery,  who  have  had  only  a  few  little 
years  to  look  about  us,  and  are  bewildered 
at  every  step  amid  the  variety  of  his  works 
and  of  his  counsels,  are  we  to  reject  a  pro- 
cess because  it  is  wonderful  ?  Must  no  step, 
no  operation  of  the  mighty  God  be  admit- 
ted, till  it  is  brought  under  the  dominion  of 
our  faculties? — and  shall  we  who  strut  our 
little  hour  in  the  humblest  of  his  mansions, 
prescribe  a  law  to  him  whose  arm  is  abroad 
upon  all  worlds,  and  whose  eye  can  take 
in,  at  a  single  glance,  the  immeasurable  fields 
of  creation  and  providence?  Be  it  as  won- 
derful as  it  may — enough  for  us  that  it  is 
made  sure  by  the  distinct  and  authentic 
testimony  of  heaven;  and  if,  from  the 
mouth  of  Jesus,  who  is  heaven's  messen- 
ger, we  are  told,  that  "  unless  a  man  be 
born  of  the  Spirit,  he  cannot  enter  into  the 
kingdom,"  it  is  our  part  submissively  to 
acquiesce,  and  humbly  to  pray  for  it. 
Whatever  repugnance  others  may  feel  to 
this  part  of  the  revealed  counsels  of  God, 
those  who  look  to  a  sublime  standard  of 
moral  excellence,  and  sigh  for  the  estab- 
lishment of  its  authority  in  the  world, 
ought  to  rejoice  in  it.  It  is  the  only  re- 
maining expedient  for  giving  effect  and  re- 
ality to  their  own  declamations,  and  they 
are  fairly  shut  up  unto  it.  Long  have  they 
tried  to  repair  the  disorders  of  a  ruined 
world.  Many  an  expedient  has  been  fallen 
upon.  Temples  have  been  reared  to  science 
and  to  virtue  ;  and  from  the  lofty  academic 
chair,  the  wisdom  of  this  world  has  lifted 
Its  voice  amid  a  crowd  of  listening  ad- 
mirers. For  thousands  of  years,  the  un- 
aided powers  and  principles  of  humanity, 
have  done  their  uttermost ;  and  tell  us,  ye 
advocates  for  the  dignity  of  the  species,  the 
amount  of  their  operation.  If  you  refuse 
to  answer,  we  shall  answer  for  you;  and 
do  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  mighty  in  pro- 
mise, and  wretched  in  accomplishment, 
you  have  positively  done  nothing — that  all 
the  wisdom  of  the  schools,  and  all  its 
vapouring  demonstrations,  have  not  had 
the  least  perceptible  weight,  when  brought 
to  bear  upon  the  mass  of  human  character, 
and  human  performance;  that  the  corrup- 
tion of  the  inner  man  has  not  yielded  at 
all  to  your  reasoning,  and  remains  as  un- 
subdued and  as  obstinate  a  principle  as 
ever ;  that  the  power  of  depravity  in  the 
fman  is  beyond  you;  and  that  setting 


aside  tne  real  operation  of  Christianity 
in  the  hearts  of  individuals  and  the  surface 
dressing  which  the  hand  of  legislation  has 
thrown  over  the  face  of  society,  the  human 
soul,  if  seen  in  its  nakedness,  would  still 
be  seen  in  all  its  original  deformity — as 
strong  in  selfishness,  as  lawless  in  propen- 
sity, as  devoted  to  sense  and  to  lime,  as 
estranged  from  God,  as  unmindful  of  the 
obedience,  and  as  indifferent  to  the  reward 
and  the  inheritance  of  his  children. 

The  machine  has  gone  into  disorder;  and 
there  is  not  a  single  power  within  the  com- 
pass of  the  machinery  itself  that  is  able  to 
repair  it.  You  must  do  as  you  do  in  other 
cases;  you  must  have  recourse  to  some  ex- 
ternal application.  The  inefticacy  of  every 
tried  expedient  shuts  you  up  unto  the  only 
remaining  one.  Every  human  principle  has 
been  brought  to  bear  upon  it  in  vain,  and 
we  are  shut  up  unto  the  necessity  of  some 
other  principle  that  is  beyond  humanity, 
and  above  it.  The  Spirit  of  God  is  that 
mighty  principle.  That  Spirit  which  moved 
on  the  face  of  the  waters,  and  made  light, 
and  peace,  and  beauty  to  emerge  out  of  the 
wild  war  of  nature  and  her  elements,  is  the 
revealed  agent  of  heaven,  for  repairing  the 
disorders  of  sin,  and  restoring  the  moral 
creation  of  God  to  health  and  to  loveliness. 
It  will  create  us  anew  unto  good  works.  It 
will  make  us  again  after  that  image  in 
which  we  were  originally  formed.  It  will 
sanctify  us  by  the  faith  that  is  in  Jesus. 
And  by  that  mighty  power  whereby  it  is 
able  to  subdue  all  things  unto  itself,  it  will 
obtain  the  victory  over  that  spirit  which 
now  worketh  in  the  children  of  disobedience. 
The  resurrection  of  Jesus  from  the  dead  is 
the  first  fruit  of  its  operation ;  and  to  him 
who  believes  it  is  the  satisfying  pledge  of 
its  future  triumphs.  That  body,  which,  left 
to  itself,  would  have  mouldered  into  frag- 
ments, is  now  in  all  the  bloom  of  immor- 
tality, at  the  right  hand  of  the  everlasting 
throne.  We  have  tried  the  operation  of  a 
thousand  principles  in  vain.  Let  us  repair 
to  this,  so  great  in  promise,  and  so  mighty 
in  performance.  It  has  already  achieved  its 
wonders.  It  has  wrought  those  miracles  of 
faith  and  fortitude  which,  in  the  first  ages 
of  Christianity,  threw  a  gleam  of  triumph 
over  the  horrors  of  martyrdom.  It  has  given 
us  displays  of  the  great  and  the  noble  which 
are  without  example  in  history;  and  from 
the  first  moment  of  its  operation  in  the 
world,  it  has  been  working  in  those  unseen 
retirements  of  the  cottage  and  the  family, 
where  the  eye  of  the  historian  never  pene- 
trates. The  admirers  of  virtue  are  fairly 
shut  up  unto  the  faith;  for  faith  is  the  only 
avenue  that  leads  to  it.  "To  your  faith  add 
virtue,"  says  the  Apostle ;  and  thai  you  may 
lie  aide  to  make  the  addition,  the  promise 
of  the  Spirit  is  given  to  them  that  believe. 
We  should  now  pass  on  to  another  school 


318 


ON  THE  REASONABLENESS  OF  FAITH. 


[SERM. 


the  school  of  fine  feeling  and  poetical  senti- 
ment. It  differs  from  the  former  in  this — 
ihat  while  the  one,  in  its  dissertations  on 
virtue,  carries  you  up  to  the  principles  of 
duty,  the  other  paints  and  admires  it  as  a 
tasteful  exhihition  of  what  is  fair  and  lovely 
in  human  character.  The  one  makes  virtue 
its  idol  hecause  of  its  rectitude;  the  other 
makes  virtue  its  idol  because  of  its  beauty; 
and  the  process  of  reasoning  by  which  they 
are  shut  up  unto  the  faith,  is  the  same  in 
both.  Look  at  the  actual  state  of  the  world, 
and  you  find  that  both  the  rectitude  and  the 
beauty  are  a-wanting.  If  you  admire  the 
one,  and  love  the  other,  you  are  shut  up 
unto  the  only  expedient  that  is  able  to  re- 
store them — and  that  expedient  is  sanctioned 
by  the  truth  of  heaven,  and  has  all  the  power 
of  omnipotence  employed  in  giving  effect 
to  the  operation — the  Spirit  of  God  subdu- 
ing all  things  unto  itself— putting  the  law 
in  our  hearts,  and  writing  it  in  our  minds — 
and  by  bringing  the  soul  of  man  under  the 
influence  of  "  whatsoever  things  are  pure, 
or  honest,  or  lovely,  or  of  good  report," 
creating  a  finer  spectacle,  and  rearing  a 
fairer  and  more  unfading  flower,  than  ever 
grew  in  the  gardens  of  poetry. 

The  processes  are  so  entirely  similar,  that 
we  would  not  have  made  it  the  distinct  ob- 
ject of  your  attention,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  sake  of  an  argument  in  behalf  of  the 
faith,  which  may  be  addressed  with  great 
advantage  to  the  literary  and  cultivated  or- 
ders of  society.  There  are  few  people  of 
literary  cultivation,  who  have  not  read  a 
novel.  In  this  fictitious  composition,  there 
are  often  one  or  two  perfect  characters  that 
figure  in  the  history,  and  delight  the  imagi- 
nation of  the  reader;  and  you  are  at  last 
landed  in  some  fairy  scene  of  happiness  and 
virtue,  which  it  is  quite  charming  to  con- 
template, and  which  you  would  like  to 
aspire  after;  perhaps  some  interesting  fami- 
ly in  the  bosom  of  which  love,  and  inno- 
cence, and  tranquility,  have  fixed  them- 
selves— where  the  dark  and  angry  passions 
never  enter — where  suspicion  is  unknown, 
and  every  eye  meets  another  in  the  full 
glance  of  cordiality  and  affection — where 
charity  reigns  triumphant,  and  smiles  benefi- 


cence and  joy  upon  the  humble  cottages 
which  surround  it.  Now  this  is  very  sooth- 
ing, and  very  delightful.  It  makes  you  glad 
to  think  of  it.  The  fancy  swells  with  rap- 
ture, and  the  moral  principle  of  our  nature 
lends  its  full  approbation  to  a  scene  so  vir- 
tuous and  so  exemplary.  So  much  for  the 
dream  of  fancy.  Let  us  compare  it  with  the 
waking  images  of  truth.  Walk  from  Dan  to 
Beersheba,  and  tell  us,  if  without  and  be- 
yond the  operation  of  Gospel  motives,  and 
Gospel  principles,  the  reality  of  life  ever 
furnished  you  with  a  picture  that  is  at  all 
like  the  elegance  and  perfection  of  this  ficti- 
tious history.  Go  to  the  finest  specimen  of 
such  a  family.  Take  your  secret  stand,  and 
observe  them  in  their  more  retired  and  in- 
visible moments.  It  is  not  enough  to  pay 
them  a  ceremonious  visit,  and  observe  them 
in  the  put  on  manners  and  holiday  dress  of 
general  company.  Look  at  them  when  all 
this  disguise  and  finery  are  thrown  aside. 
Yes,  we  have  no  doubt,  that  you  will  per- 
ceive some  love,  some  tenderness,  some  vir- 
tue ;  but  the  rough  and  untutored  honesty 
of  truth  compels  us  to  say,  that  along  with 
all  this,  there  are  at  times  mingled  the  bit- 
terness of  invective,  the  growlings  of  dis- 
content, the  harpings  of  peevishness  and 
animosity,  and  all  that  train  of  angry,  sus- 
picious, and  discordant  feelings,  which  im- 
bitter  the  heart  of  man,  and  make  the  reality 
of  human  life  a  very  sober  affair  indeed, 
when  compared  with  the  high  colouring  of 
romance,  and  the  sentimental  extravagance 
of  poetry. 

Now,  what  do  we  make  of  all  this?  We 
infer,  that  however  much  we  may  love  per- 
fection, and  aspire  after  it,  yet  there  is  some 
want,  some  disease  in  the  constitution  of 
man,  which  prevents  his  attainment  of  it — 
that  there  is  a  feebleness  of  principle  about 
him — that  the  energy  of  his  practice  does 
not  correspond  to  the  fair  promises  of  his 
fancy ;  and  however  much  he  may  delight 
in  an  ideal  scene  of  virtue  and  moral  excel- 
lence, there  is  some  lurking  malignity  in  his 
constitution,  which,  without  the  operation 
of  that  mighty  power  revealed  to  us  in  the 
Gospel,  makes  it  vain  to  wish,  and  hopeless 
to  aspire  after  it. 


X.] 


ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  SABBATH. 


19 


SERMON  X. 

On  the  Christian  Sabbath. 
"  And  hf*  said  unto  them,  The  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for  the  Sabbath." — Mark  ii.  27 


The  first  recommendation  of  the  Sabbath 
is  the  place  which  it  occupies  in  the  deca- 
logue. There  was  much  of  Jewish  obser- 
vancy  swept  away  with  the  ruin  of  the  na- 
tional institutions.  There  was  much  of  it 
designed  for  a  temporary  purpose,  and 
which  fell  into  disuse  among  the  worship- 
pers of  God  after  that  purpose  was  accom- 
plished. A  Christian  of  the  present  day, 
looks  upon  many  of  the  most  solemn  ser- 
vices of  Judaism  in  no  other  light  than  as 
fragments  of  a  perishable  ritual — nor  does 
he  ever  think,  that  upon  himself  they  have 
any  weight  of  personal  obligation.  But  this 
Iocs  not  hold  true  of  all  the  duties  and  all 
the  services  of  Judaism.  There  is  a  broad 
line  of  distinction  between  that  part  of  it 
which  is  now  broken  up,  and  that  part  of  it 
which  still  retains  all  the  authority  of  a  per- 
petual and  immutable  law.  Point  us  out  a 
single  religious  observance  of  the  Hebrews 
that  is  now  done  away,  and  we  are  able  to 
say  of  it,  and  of  all  the  others  which  have 
experienced  a  similar  termination,  that  they, 
every  one  of  them,  lie  without  the  compass 
of  the  ten  commandments.  They  have  no 
place  whatever  in  that  great  record  of  duty 
which  was  graven  on  tables  of  stone,  and 
placed  within  the  holy  of  holies,  under  the 
mercy-seat.  Now,  how  does  the  law  of  the 
Sabbath  stand  as  to  this  particular?  Does  it 
lie  within  or  without  a  limit  so  tangible,  and 
forming  so  distinct  and  so  noticeable  a  line 
of  demarcation?  We  see  it  then  standing 
within  this  record,  of  which  all  the  other 
luties  are  of  such  general  and  such  imper- 
ishable obligation.  We  meet  with  it  in  the 
interior  of  that  hallowed  ground,  of  which 
every  other  part  is  so  sacred  and  so  inviola- 
ble. We  perceive  it  occupying  its  own  con- 
spicuous place  in  that  register  of  duties,  all 
of  which  have  the  substance  and  the  irrevo- 
cable permanency  of  moral  principle.  On 
reading  over  the  other  articles  of  this  me- 
morable code,  we  see  all  of  them  stamped 
with  such  enduring  characters  of  obligation, 
as  no  time  can  wear  away;  and  the  law  of 
the  Sabbath  taking  its  station  in  the  midst 
of  them,  and  enshrined  on  each  side  of  it 
among  the  immutabilities  of  truth,  and  jus- 
tice, and  piety,  ft  is  true,  that  much  of 
Judaism  has  now  fallen  into  desuetude,  and 
that  many  of  its  dearest  and  most  distin- 
guished solemnities  are  now  regarded  in  no 
other  light  than  as  the  obsolete  and  repealed 
observances  of  an  antiquated  ritual.  But  it 
is  worthy  of  being  well  observed  that  the 
whole  of  this  work  of  demolition  took  place 


around  and  without  the  line  of  demarcation. 
We  see  no  attempt  whatever  to  violate  the 
sanctity  of  the  ground  which  this  line  en- 
closes. We  no  where  see  any  .express  or 
recorded  incursion  upon  any  one  of  the  ob- 
servances of  the  decalogue.  We  perceive 
an  Apostle  in  the  New  Testament  making 
his  allusion  to  the  fifth  of  these  observances, 
and  calling  it  the  first  commandment  with 
promise;  and  by  the  very  notice  he  bestows 
on  the  arrangement  of  the  duties,  are  we 
given  to  understand,  that  no  attempt  had 
been  made  to  disturb  their  order,  or  to  de- 
pose any  one  of  them  from  the  place  which 
had  been  assigned  to  it.  We  should  count 
it  an  experiment  of  the  most  fearful  audaci- 
ty, without  the  intimation  of  any  act  of  re- 
peal passed  in  the  high  legislature  of  hea- 
ven, to  fly  in  the  face  of  that  Sabbath  law, 
which  stands  enrolled  among  the  items  of 
so  notable  and  so  illustrious  a  document; 
and  nothing  short  of  a  formal  and  absolute 
recallment  can  ever  tempt  us  to  think,  that 
the  new  dispensation  of  the  Gospel  has 
created  so  much  as  one  vacancy  in  that 
register  of  duties,  which  bears  upon  the 
aspect  of  its  whole  history  the  impress  of  a 
revealed  standard  that  is  unalienable  and 
everlasting.  We  cannot  give  up  one  article 
in  that  series  of  enactments  which,  in  every 
one  age  of  the  Christian  world,  has  been 
revealed  as  a  code,  not  of  ceremonial  but 
of  moral  law.  We  cannot  consent,  but  on 
the  ground  of  some  resistless  and  overbear- 
ing argument,  to  the  mutilation  of  the  in- 
tegrity of  this  venerable  record.  We  see 
throughout  the  whole  line  of  the  Jewish 
history,  that  it  stood  separate  and  alone; 
and  that  free  from  all  the  marks  of  national 
or  local  peculiarity,  it  bore  upon  it  none  of 
the  frailty  of  the  other  institutions,  but  has 
been  preserved  and  handed  down  to  us  an 
unchanged  standard  of  duty,  for  all  genera- 
tions. We  see,  at  the  very  commencement 
of  the  Mosaic  dispensation  how  God  him- 
self thought  fit  to  signalize  it;  for,  from  the 
place  where  he  stood,  did  he  proclaim  the 
ten  commandments  of  the  law,  in  the  hear- 
ing of  the  assembled  multitude;  while  every 
other  enactment,  whether  moral  or  cere- 
monial, was  conveyed  to  the  knowledge  of 
the  people,  through  the  medium  of  a  human 
legislator.  And  we  should  feel  that,  in  de- 
throning any  one  of  the  perceptive  imposi- 
tions of  the  decalogue  from  its  authority 
over  our  practice,  we  were  bidding  defiance 
to  the  declared  will  of  the  Eternal;  and  re- 
sisting a  voice  which  sounds  as  loudly  and 


320 


ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  SABBATH. 


[SERM. 


as  impressively  to  our  conscience,  as  the 
one  that  issued  in  thunder  from  the  naming 
top  of  Sinai,  and  scattered  dismay  among 
the  thousands  of  Israel. 

But,  secondly,  in  the  practice  of  the 
Christian  world,  the  Sabbath  has  been 
moved  forward  by  one  day  ;  and  the  re- 
membrance to  which  it  is  now  consecrated, 
is  a  different  one  from  that  of  the  creation 
of  the  world.  For  this  change  we  can  find 
no  positive  enactment ;  but  we  can  quote 
the  uncontrolled  observation  of  it  down 
from  the  period  of  the  apostolic  age.  We 
are  sure  that  a  practice  so  early  and  so 
universal,  could  not  have  been  introduced 
without  the  sanction  of  Heaven's  inspired 
messengers.  And,  mark  the  limit  of  that 
liberty  which  has  been  taken  with  the 
fourth  commandment.  It  amounts  to  no- 
thing more  than  the  circumstantial  change 
of  a  day.  Had  the  early  Christians  felt 
themselves  warranted  to  take  more  liberty, 
they  would  have  taken  it ;  for  then  was  the 
time  when  Christianity  took  its  determi- 
nate movement  away  from  the  practices  of 
the  old  dispensation,  and  established  all  its 
distinctions  as  a  religion  of  principle,  and  a 
religion  of  spiritual  character.  But  widely 
as  the  one  religion  departed  from  the  other, 
there  never,  in  any  one  age  of  the  church, 
has  been  a  departure  from  the  observance 
of  a  Sabbath,  appropriated  to  the  more  so- 
lemn and  peculiar  exercises  of  piety.  The 
change  in  the  day  goes  to  prove  that  Chris- 
tianity is  not  a  religion  of  mere  days.  But 
while  it  has  abandoned  one  particular  day, 
you  find  it  transferring  itself  to  another;  and 
in  the  choice  of  that  other  it  is  guided  by 
the  affecting  remembrance  of  an  event,  the 
contemplation  of  which  is  fitted  to  strength- 
en the  faith,  and  to  refresh  the  piety,  and 
to  waken  the  best  and  most  religious  feel- 
ings of  those  who  are  spiritually  engaged 
in  it.  It  commemorates  the  rise  of  the 
crucified  Saviour  from  the  grave — of  him 
who  is  the  first  fruits  of  them  who  slept — 
of  him  who  by  that  Spirit  which  is  com- 
mitted to  him,  raises  all  those  who  are  dead 
in  tresspasses  and  sins,  to  newness  of  life — 
of  him  who  is  the  great  agent  of  Heaven 
for  repairing  all  the  disorders  and  all  the 
deformities  of  the  moral  world — of  him  by 
whom,  as  the  word  of  God,  the  universe 
was  at  first  created,  but  who  has  since 
earned  a  more  enduring  title  to  the  memory 
of  Christians,  by  taking  upon  him  that 
great  scheme,  in  virtue  of  which,  there  are 
to  emerge  out  of  this  ruined  and  rebellious 
province,  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth, 
wherein  dwelleth  righteousness.  At  the 
first  creation  of  the  world,  the  Spirit  moved 
over  the  turbulence  of  its  confused  and  jar- 
ring elements,  and  awoke  them  all  to  or- 
der and  to  harmony.  When  Adam  fell, 
we  know  not  what  precise  mischief  it  in- 
flicted on  the  material  world;  but  we  know 


that  the  moral  world  went  back  again  into 
a  wild  chaos  of  dark  and  disorderly  rebel- 
lion ;  and  the  heart  of  man  lost  its  obe- 
dience to  the  attractive  influences  of  that 
great  principle  which  can  alone  subdue  it 
into  harmonious  accordancy  with  the  law 
of  God ;  and  the  resurrection  of  Christ 
from  the  grave  was  a  mighty  and  essential 
step  in  the  counsels  of  heaven  for  quelling 
all  the  violence  of  this  elementary  war; 
"  for  unless  I  go  away,  the  comforter  can- 
not come ;  but  if  I  go  to  my  Father,  I  shall 
send  him."  And  from  the  place  which  he 
now  occupies,  does  the  Spirit  come  down 
at  the  commission  of  the  exalted  Saviour, 
and  he  moves  on  the  face  of  this  spiritual 
chaos,  and  is  ever  and  anon  reclaiming 
some  portion  of  a  moral  and  renovated  em- 
pire from  the  rugged  domain  of  a  world 
lying  in  wickedness.  And  the  time  is  yet 
to  come  when  this  ever-renovating  Spirit 
shall  fulfil  its  conclusive  triumph,  by  spread- 
ing an  entire  aspect  of  worth,  and  piety, 
and  moral  loveliness  over  the  wide  extent 
of  a  now  sinful  creation. 

And  thus  it  is,  that  while  the  day  of  Sab- 
bath has  been  changed,  there  is  a  most  af- 
fecting remembrance  which  gives  to  the 
observation  of  Sabbath  the  full  import  and 
significancy  of  its  original  purpose — the 
remembrance  of  a  new  creation  emerging 
from  an  old  one — the  animating  view  of 
life  and  immortality  rising  in  splendour 
from  the  corruption  of  the  grave — the  con- 
templation of  an  ascended  Saviour,  who 
pours  the  promise  of  the  Father  on  all  his 
believing  disciples — and  working  in  them 
by  the  Spirit  the  graces  of  the  new  creature, 
prepares  them  for  a  welcome  entrance  into 
those  regions,  where  sin  is  unknown,  and 
where  death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory. 

But,  thirdly,  in  addition  to  the  slight  cir- 
cumstantial change  which  has  been  made 
upon  the  Sabbath,  and  which  we  are  sure 
no  honest  and  enlightened  Christian  can 
ever  construe  into  an  entire  and  absolute 
repeal  of  the  whole  institution — there  is  a 
general  change  affecting  every  one  of  the 
ten  commandments,  but  which  was  never 
so  well  understood  till  the  new  dispensa- 
tion was  fully  and  fairly  ushered  into  the 
world. 

We  do  not  mean  to  say,  that  the  wor- 
thies of  the  Old  Testament  were  utter 
strangers  to  that  doctrine  of  grace  on 
which  the  Spirit  of  God,  working  in  larger 
measure  on  the  minds  of  the  Apostles,  from 
the  day  of  Pentecost,  has  poured  so  clear 
and  so  celestial  a  splendour.  We  believe 
that  many  Jews  were,  under  the  shadow  of 
their  types  and  their  sacrifices,  trained  to 
the  faith,  and  the  humility,  and  the  affec- 
tionate obedience  of  creatures  who  knew 
themselves  to  be  incapable  of  perfect  con- 
formity to  the  law  of  God — and  that,  in 
the  act  of  serving  him.  they  stood  on  es- 


X.] 


sen-tially  the  same  footing  of  mercy  to 
pardon  and  grace  to  help  in  the  time  of 
need,  on  which  a  spiritual  Christian  of  the 
day  now  feels  himself  to  be  so  firmly  and 
so  conclusively  established.  The  change 
we  are  alluding  to,  then,  did  not  take  place 
at  the  first  settlement  of  the  new  dispensa- 
tion. It  only  came  out  at  that  time  into 
more  distinct  exhibition;  and  it  consists  in 
this;  that  whereas  the  direct  and  natural 
way  of  taking  up  the  promulgated  law  of 
God,  is  to  take  it  up  as  a  law  of  works,  and 
to  labour  at  the  performance  of  it  on  the 
understood  condition  of  "  This  do,  and  ye 
shall  live" — and  as  this  condition  has  not 
been  fulfilled  by  a  single  son  or  daughter 
of  the  species,  then,  unless  some  new  ar- 
rangement of  the  matter  between  God  and 
man  had  been  entered  into,  life  was  forfeit- 
ed by  every  one  of  us,  and  we  should  just 
have  been  what  the  New  Testament  tells 
us  we  actually  are,  anterior  to  our  recep- 
tion of  the  Gospel,  the  children  of  wrath, 
and  under  the  full  operation  of  the  sen- 
tence, that  "the  soul  which  sinneth  it  shall 
die."  Now,  it  would  lead  us  away  from 
our  subject  into  a  most  interminable  ex- 
cursion, did  we  say  all  that  might  be  perti- 
nently and  substantially  said  on  the  precise 
turn  which  the  Gospel  has  given  to  the 
obligation  of  the  law.  Eternal  life  is  no 
longer  the  wages  of  perfect  obedience.  It 
is  the  gift  of  God  through  Jesus  Christ,  our 
Lord.  The  man  who  has  faith  to  perceive 
the  reality  of  this  gift,  lays  hold  of  it,  and 
rejoices  in  all  the  enlargement  of  conscious 
forgiveness,  and  in  all  the  cordialities  of  a 
secure  and  confident  reconciliation,  with 
the  Cod  whom  he  had  offended.  But  this 
faith  does  not  set  him  loose  from  any  one 
of  the  duties  of  obedience.  Had  no  other 
doctrine  been  proposed  to  the  believer,  than 
the  single  one  of  forgiveness  through  the 
redemption  that  is  in  the  blood  of  Jesus, 
then  we  can  conceive  how  the  dawning  of 

rospel  faith  might  be  a  signal  for  the 
emancipation  of  the  whole  man  from  the 

lints  of  moral  obligation.  But  other 
doctrines  have  been  proposed;  and  faith, 
which  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  re- 
liance on  the  divine  testimony,  gives  an 
equally  honest  and  welcome  admission  to 
all  the  particulars  of  that  testimony.  It 
embraces  all  the  particulars  of  God's  com- 
munication ;  and  such  is  the  amplitude  of 
iis  grasp,  that  though  as  a  principle,  it  is 
single  and  undivided,  and  can  be  defined 
within  the  limits  of  a  short  sentence;  yet 
grant  us  the  existence  of  this  principle,  and 
then  you  grant  us  room  enough,  and  pro- 
vision enough  for  giving  effect  to  every 
one  of  the  lessons  of  revelation.  When 
faith  attaches  itself  to  the  doctine  of  recon- 
ciliation through  Christ,  it  will  make  him 
who  possesses  it,  to  walk  before  God  with- 
out fear.  When  faith  attaches  itself  to  the 
41 


ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  SABBATH. 


321 


doctrine,  that  "  without  holiness  no  man 
can  see  God,"  it  makes  him  who  pos 
sesses  it,  to  "  walk  before  God  without 
fear,  in  righteousness  and  in  holiness." 
When  faith  attaches  itself  to  the  doctrine 
that  unless  ye  do  such  and  such  command- 
ments, ye  shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of 
God,  it  makes  him  who  possesses  it,  feel 
as  constraining  an  urgency  of  personal  in- 
terest in  the  work  of  keeping  these  com- 
mandments, as  if  the  old  covenant  of  works 
had  got  up  again,  and  he  behooved  to  ply 
his  assiduous  task  for  the  rewards  of  per- 
fect obedience.  When  faith  attaches  itself 
to  the  doctrine  of  every  man  receiving  his 
award  at  the  judgment-seat,  according  to 
the  deeds  done  in  the  body,  it  makes  him 
who  possesses  it  just  strive  with  as  much 
earnestness  to  multiply  good  deeds — as  if 
each  performance  done  at  the  bidding  of 
the  Saviour,  was  a  distinct  addition  to  the 
treasure  reserved  for  him  in  heaven.  But 
faith  does  attach  itself  to  every  one  of  these 
doctrines,  or  it  is  no  faith  at  all.  It  gives 
the  homage  of  its  reliance  to  each  particu- 
lar of  the  law  and  the  testimony.  It  clears 
its  unfettered  way  from  among  the  per- 
plexities of  human  arrangement ;  and  dis- 
owning every  authority  but  that  of  the  one 
master,  it  sits  at  his  feet  with  the  docility 
of  a  little  child,  and  appropriates  to  its  right 
influence  every  item  of  his  communications. 
And  thus  it  is,  that  the  man  who  is  in  sim- 
plicity and  in  good  faith  a  believer,  while 
he  rejoices  all  the  day  long  in  the  sunshine 
of  a  countenance  which  he  knows  to  be 
friendly  to  him,  labours  all  the  day  long  at 
his  faithful  and  assiduous  task  of  doing 
every  thing  to  the  glory  of  God.  There  is 
room  enough  in  his  enlarged  heart  for 
knowing,  that  while  the  one  is  his  offered 
privilege,  the  other  is  his  required  duty — 
and  free  as  he  is,  from  all  the  embroilments 
of  a  darkening  speculation,  he  does  not 
wait  for  the  adjustment  of  any  human  con- 
troversy on  the  subject,  but  taking  himself 
to  his  Bible,  he  both  lives  in  all  the  security 
of  the  offered  reconciliation,  and  without 
questioning  the  simple  announcement  of 
the  Saviour,  that  "  if  ye  love  me,  ye  will 
keep  my  commandments,"  he  also  lives  in 
all  the  diligence  of  one  who  is  "steadfast 
and  immoveable,  and  always  abounding  in 
the  work  of  the  Lord." 

It  is  true,  that  there  is  a  difference  between 
being  under  the  law,  and  under  grace.  But 
how  does  this  difference  affect  the  morality 
of  a  Christian  ?  Let  us  take  the  deliverance 
of  an  Apostle  upon  the  subject.  "  Shall  we 
sin,"  says  Paul,  "because  we  are  not  under 
the  law,  but  under  grace?  God  forbid." 
Quite  the  contrary,  for  it  is  precisely  be- 
cause we  are  under  grace,  that  sin  hath  not 
dominion  over  us.  We  must  shorten  this 
explanation,  and  bring  it  to  bear  on  the  ob- 
servation of  the  Sabbath.  The  great  interest 


322 


ONrffHE  CHRISTIAN  SABBATH. 


[sER3f, 


of  practical  obedience  is  upheld  under  the 
dispensation  of  the  Gospel,  by  all  the  securi- 
ties of  positive  and  preceptive  obligation. 
But  more  than  this — there  is  such  a  change 
wrought  by  grace  in  the  heait  of  every  be- 
liever, that  he  not  only  understands  the  obli- 
gation, but  is  made  cordially  to  acquiesce  in  it. 
There  is  such  a  revolution  in  his  desires,  that 
it  is  now  his  meat  and  drink  to  do  the  will  of 
that  God,  against  whom  there  existed  within 
him  the  most  stubborn  and  revolting  en- 
mity. The  man  who  by  faith,  now  looks 
on  God  as  his  friend,  will  have  no  difficulty 
in  understanding  this  change,  for  he  feels 
it ;  and  there  is  not  a  believer  on  the  face  of 
the  eartli  who  does  not,  from  the  time  of  his 
becoming  so,  love  that  law  which  he  afore- 
time violated.  This  law  was  at  first  graven 
on  tables  of  stone,  and  held  out  for  the  go- 
vernment of  a  helpless  and  guilty  race,  who 
were  both  unable  and  unwilling  to  yield  to 
it  the  loyalty  of  their  obedience;  and  it 
therefore  served  to  them  for  a  ministry  of 
condemnation. 

When  the  dispensation  of  grace  was 
brought  in,  this  law  was  not  abrogated. 
One  of  the  most  illustrious  exercises  of  the 
grace  of  God,  consisted  in  his  putting  forth 
a  device  for  securing  the  observance  of  his 
laws,  and  this  deviee  is  neither  more  nor 
less  than  putting  the  law  in  our  hearts,  and 
writing  it  in  our  minds.  On  the  change 
taking  place  from  our  being  under  the  law, 
to  our  being  under  grace,  the  law,  to  use 
the  language  of  the  Bible,  is  taken  down 
from  the  place  it  formerly  occupied  on 
tablets  of  stone,  and  from  which  it  frowns 
upon  us  in  all  the  wrath  of  its  violated  dig- 
nity ;  and  it  is  graven  on  the  fleshly  tablets 
of  the  heart — or,  in  other  words,  the  man  is 
endowed  with  a  liking  for  that  which  he 
formerly  rebelled  against.  And  grant  him 
possessed  of  the  genuine  principle  of  faith  ; 
and  there  can  be  no  doubt,  that  the  spirit, 
true  to  his  office,  has  been  at  work  within 
him,  and  has  given  a  new  bent  to  his  affec- 
tions, and  has  turned  them  to  the  love  of 
those  commandments  which  he  aforetime 
hated  and  resisted,  and  has  established  in 
his  bosom  this  omnipotent  security  for  obe- 
dience, that  the  taste  and  the  inclinations  of 
the  new  creature  are  now  upon  his  side; 
and  as  if  carried  forward  by  the  spontaneous 
and  inborn  alacrity  of  a  constitutional  im- 
pulse, does  the  man  who  is  thus  trans- 
formed, and  thus  acted  upon  by  that  Spirit, 
for  which  he  never  ceases  to  pray,  run  with 
delight  in  the  way  of  all  the  commandments. 

Now,  we  have  already  attempted  to  satisfy 
you,  that  there  is  no  erasure  of  the  fourth 
commandment  from  that  lettered  record  of 
the  law,  which  is  met  with  in  your  Bibles, 
and  where  the  institution  of  the  Sabbath  is 
graven  as  indelibly  as  any  one  of  the  un- 
changeable moralities  among  which  it  is 
situated.    But  by  the  new  dispensation  of 


the  Gospel,  this  law  is  made  to  stand  in 
another  place.  It  is  conveyed,  as  it  were, 
from  its  old  position,  on  a  tablet  of  stone, 
and  written  in  the  characters  of  a  living 
epistle  on  the  tablet  of  a  believer's  heart. 
Now  the  question  we  have  to  put  is,  in  this 
transference  of  the  law  from  its  old  to  its 
new  repository,  does  any  one  of  its  articles 
fall  away  from  it,  and  is  lost,  as  it  were,  in 
the  passage,  by  being  loosened  and  detached 
from  the  other  articles  among  which  it  was 
incorporated  1  We  can  specify  some,  at 
least,  of  the  ten  commandments,  which  have 
found  their  way  safe  and  entire  to  the  heart 
of  him  who  has  embraced  the  Gospel,  and 
lives  under  the  power  of  its  purifying  in- 
fluences. We  are  sure  that  such  a  man  will 
have  his  supreme  affections  fastened  upon 
God,  and  renouncing  every  idol,  whether 
of  wealth,  or  of  ambition,  or  of  vanity,  that 
can  dethrone  the  Father  of  his  spirit  from 
his  rightful  ascendency,  he  will  prefer  no 
one  object  of  regard,  or  of  reverence  before 
him.  We  are  sure  that  such  a  man  will  be 
quite  in  earnest  to  have  a  right  knowledge 
and  conception  of  God — that  the  Being  he 
worships  may  be  the  true  God — and  lest,  by 
directing  his  homage  to  some  false  and  dis- 
torted picture  of  bis  own  fancy,  he  may 
incur  all  the  guilt,  and  be  carried  away  by 
all  the  delusion  of  him  who  falls  down  to  a 
material  image,  in  lowly  and  bending  ado- 
ration. We  are  sure  that  such  a  man  will 
do  honour  to  the  hallowed  name  of  his 
Master,  who  is  in  heaven,  and  be  sickened 
and  appalled  by  that  profaneness  which  is 
so  current  in  many  of  our  companies.  We 
are  sure  that  such  a  man  will  revere  his 
earthly  parents,  and  will  stand  by  them  in 
the  midst  of  their  sinking  infirmities ;  and 
whether  in  the  form  of  a  declining  father, 
or  a  widowed  mother,  who  has  thrown  the 
whole  burden  of  her  dependence  on  the 
children  who  remain  to  her,  we  are  sure 
that  he  will  never  turn  a  contemptuous  ear 
to  the  feebleness  of  their  entreating  voice — 
but  will  bid  his  proud  and  aspiring  man- 
hood give  up  to  their  authority  all  its  way- 
wardness, and  all  its  tumultuous  indepen- 
dence. We  are  quite  sure,  that  in  the  heart 
of  such  a  man,  there  is  an  aspiration  of 
kindliness  towards  every  thing  that  breathes, 
and  that  the  commandment,  "  Thou  shalt 
not  kill,"  carries  in  his  bosom  the  widely 
extended  import  of  thou  shalt  not  conceive 
one  purpose,  nor  carry  against  a  single  hu- 
man being,  one  rankling  sentiment  of  ma- 
lignity. We  are  sure  that  such  a  man,  far 
removed  from  all  that  is  licentious  in  prac- 
tice, will  recoil,  even  in  the  unseen  solitude 
of  thought,  from  all  that  is  licentious  in  con- 
ception, and  spurning  away  from  the  pure 
sanctuary  of  his  heart  every  evil  and  unhal- 
lowed visitation,  he  will  present  to  the  ap- 
proving eye  of  Heaven,  all  the  adornments 
of  a  spiritual  temple,  all  the  graces  and  all 


X.] 


ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  SABBATH. 


323 


the  beauties  of  an  unspotted  offering.  We 
are  sure  that  such  a  man,  with  a  hand  un- 
soiled  by  any  one  of  the  gains  of  injustice, 
will  with  all  the  sensitiveness  of  high-minded 
and  honourable  principle,  keep  himself  as 
nobly  aloof  from  substantial  as  from  literal 
dishonesty.  He  will  feel  superior  to  every 
one  of  those  tolerated  artifices,  and  those 
practical  disguises,  which,  throughout  the 
great  mass  of  mercantile  society,  have  so 
hardened  and  so  worn  down  the  con- 
sciences of  those,  who,  for  years,  have  been 
speeding  and  bustling  their  way  amongst  a 
variety  of  manifold  transactions — and  in  the 
high  walk  of  simplicity  and  godly  sincerity, 
will  he  carry  along  with  him  the  impress 
of  one  of  the  peculiar  people,  amid  all  the 
legalized  fraudulency  of  a  selfish  and  un- 
principled generation.  We  are  quite  sure 
that  such  a  man,  seeing  he  had  put  on  the 
deeds  of  the  new  creature,  would  never 
suffer  the  burning  infamy  of  a  lie  to  rest 
upon  him.  All  that  was  within  him,  and 
about  him,  would  be  clear  as  the  ethereal 
firmament.  The  wiles  of  a  deceitful  policy 
would  be  utterly  unknown  to  him.  The 
openness  and  the  ingenuousness  of  truth, 
would  sit  upon  his  forehead,  and  his  every 
utterance  bear  upon  it  as  decided  a  stamp 
of  authority,  as  if  shielded  by  a  solemn  ap- 
peal to  God  and  to  the  judgment-seat.  And, 
lastly,  we  are  quite  sure  that  such  a  man 
could  not  breathe  a  single  avaricious  desire 
after  the  substance  of  another.  His  heart 
is  set  on  another  treasure.  He  has  entered 
the  service  of  another  master  than  the  mam- 
mon of  unrighteousness.  His  affections  have 
settled  on  a  more  enduring  substance.  With 
the  eye  of  faith,  he  looks  to  heaven,  and  to 
its  unfading  and  imperishable  riches ;  and 
all  the  splendours  of  this  world's  vain  and 
empty  magnificence,  sink  into  worthless- 
ness  before  them.  He  can  eye  the  golden 
career  of  his  more  prosperous  neighbours, 
without  one  wistful  sentiment  either  of  co- 
vetousness  or  of  envy ;  and  feels  not  the 
meanness  and  the  hardships  of  his  humbler 
condition,  amid  the  tranquillities  of  a  heart 
that  is  cherishing  a  better  prospect,  and  re- 
posing on  the  sure  anticipation  of  a  happier 
and  more  enduring  home. 

Well,  then,  in  the  heart  of  this  man,  of 
whom  we  suppose  nothing  more  than  that 
he  has  drunk  in  the  genius  of  our  better 
dispensation,  we  find  graven  in  the  most 
legible  and  distinct  characters,  nine  of  the 
commandments.  We  meet  with  all  the  ten 
in  the  letter  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  we 
find  nine  out  of  these  ten  in  a  state  of  most 
vigorous  and  entire  operation,  under  the 
spirit  of  the  New  Testament.  What  has 
become  of  the  fourth  commandment?  Has 
it  sunk  and  disappeared  under  the  stormy 
vicissitudes  of  that  middle  passage,  through 
which  all  the  rest  have  found  their  way, 
from  the  tablets  of  a  literal  inscription,  and 


have  gotten  their  secure  and  inviolable  lodg- 
ment within  the  tablet  of  a  Christian  heart  ? 
If  we  look  into  that  heart,  do  we  meet  with 
no  trace  of  the  commandment  we  are  in 
quest  of?  Will  you  tell  us,  that  the  law 
of  the  Sabbath  is  erased,  we  will  not  say 
from  the  remembrance,  but  from  the  affec- 
tion of  any  one  of  the  actual  Christians  by 
whom  you  are  surrounded  ?  Has  it  left  be- 
hind it  a  vacancy  in  that  spiritual  tablet 
which  is  graven  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  when 
he  writes  the  law  in  the  believer's  heart, 
and  ptits  it  into  his  mind  ?  This  is  a  ques- 
tion of  observation — and  speaking  from  our 
own  observation,  we  never,  in  the  whole 
round  of  it,  met  with  a  man,  drawn  by  the 
cords  of  love  to  the  doing  of  the  other  com- 
mandments, and  carrying  in  his  heart  either 
a  distaste  or  an  indifference  for  the  fourth 
of  them  ?  We  may  have  seen  men  high  in 
honour,  and  earning  by  their  integrity  the 
rewards  of  an  unsullied  reputation  amongst 
their  fellow-citizens,  carrying  a  visible  con- 
tempt for  the  Sabbath  law  throughout  the 
whole  line  of  their  Sabbath-history — but 
all  the  truth  and  all  the  justice  of  these 
men  are  such  constitutional  virtues  as  may 
exist  in  a  character  which  owns  not  and 
feels  not  the  power  of  godliness ;  and  sure 
we  are  that  wanting  this  power,  several 
of  the  other  commandments  can  be  sped-  f> 
fled,  to  which  they  are  as  utter  strangers 
as  to  the  commandment  of  the  seventh 
day.  We  repeat  it,  therefore,  that  if  you 
grant  us  a  man  who  bears  about  with  him 
in  his  bosom,  a  warm  and  conscientious  at- 
tachment to  all  the  articles  of  the  decalogue 
but  this  one,  before  we  look  at  him,  we  say 
with  confidence,  that  search  him,  and  both 
in  his  heart  and  in  his  practice,  this  one  is 
to  be  found ;  and  that  we  shall  not  fail  to 
meet  the  Sabbath  law  as  firmly  established 
as  any  other  within  the  secrecies  of  his  bo-- 
som,  and  standing  out  as  conspicuously  on 
the  front  of  his  external  observations.  We 
never,  in  the  whole  course  of  our  recollec- 
tions, met  with  a  Christian  friend,  who  bore 
upon  his  character  every  other  evidence  of 
the  Spirit's  operation,  who  did  not  remem- 
ber the  Sabbath  day,  and  keep  it  holy.  We 
appeal  to  the  memory  of  all  the  worthies 
who  are  now  lying  in  their  graves,  that 
eminent  as  they  were  in  every  other  strace 
and  accomplishment  of  the  new  creature, 
the  religiousness  of  their  Sabbath-day  shone 
with  an  equal  lustre  amid  the  fine  assem- 
blage of  virtues  which  adorn  them.  In  every 
Christian  household,  it  will  be  found,  that 
the  discipline  of  a  well-ordered  Sabbath  is 
never  forgotten  amongst  the  other  lessons 
of  a  Christian  education — and  we  appeal  to 
every  individual  who  now  hears  us,  and 
who  carries  the  remembrance  in  bis  bosom 
of  a  father's  worth,  and  a  father's  piety,  if 
on  the  coming  round  of  the  seventh  day,  an 
air  of  peculiar  sacredness  did  not  spread  it- 


324 


ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  SABBATH. 


[SERM. 


self  over  that  mansion  where  he  drew  his 
first  breath,  and  was  taught  to  repeat  his 
infant  hymn,  and  lisp  his  infant  prayer. 
Rest  assured,  that  a  Christian,  having  the 
love  of  God  written  in  his  heart,  and  deny- 
ing the  Sabbath  a  place  in  its  affections,  is 
an  anomaly  that  is  no  where  to  be  found. 
Every  Sabbath  image,  and  every  Sabbath 
circumstance,  is  dear  to  him.    He  loves  the 
quietness  of  that  hallowed  morn.    He  loves 
the  church-bell  sound,  which  summons  him 
to  the  house  of  prayer.  He  loves  to  join  the 
chorus  of  devotion,  and  to  sit  and  listen  to 
that  voice  of  persuasion  which  is  lifted  in 
the  hearing  of  an  assembled  multitude.  He 
loves  the  retirement  of  this  day  from  the 
din  of  worldly  business,  and  the  inroads  of 
worldly  men.  He  loves  the  leisure  it  brings 
along  with  it — and  sweet  to  his  soul  is  the 
exercise  of  that  hallowed  hour,  when  there 
is  no  eye  to  witness  him  but  the  eye  of 
heaven — and  when  in  solemn  audience  with 
the  Father,  who  seeth  him  in  secret,  he  can, 
on   the  wiags  of  celestial  contemplation, 
leave  all  the  cares,  and  all  the  vexations, 
and  all  the  secularities  of  an  alienated  world 
behind  him.    O,  how  is  it  possible,  that  a 
man  can  be  under  the  dominion  of  a  prin- 
ciple of  ■piety,  who  does  not  love  that  day 
which  brings  round  to  piety  its  most  pre- 
9    cious  opportunities?     How  is  it  possible, 
that  he  can  wear  the  character  of  a  religious 
being,  if  the  very  day  which  offers  him  the 
freest  time  for  the  lessons  and  the  exercises 
of  religion,  is  spent  in  other  exercises,  or 
idly  suffered  to  roll  over  his  head  in  no  ex- 
ercise at  all  ?     How  is  it  possible,  that  there 
can  exist  within  him  any  honest  care  of  his 
eternity,  if  the  best  season  for  carrying  on, 
without  disturbance,  the  preparations  of 
eternity,  pass  away  in  disgust  and  in  weari- 
ness ?    How  is  it  possible,  with  all  the  ten- 
derness of  his  instinctive  nature  for  the 
members  of  his  family,  that  there  can  be 
one  particle  of  tenderness  for  their  souls,  if 
this  day  run  on  at  large  from  all  the  re- 
straints of  Christian  discipline,  and  careless 
parents,  giving  themselves  up  to  neglect  and 
to  indolence,  make  no  effort  to  reclaim  the 
wild  ignorance  of  children,  untaught  and 
untrained  to  that  wisdom  which  is  unto  sal- 
vation?   The  thing  is  not  to  be  conceived; 
and  upon  the  strength  of  all  these  impossi- 
bles, do  we  assert,  that  every  real  Christian 
has  the  love  of  the  Sabbath  engraven  on 
the  tablet  of  the  inner  man — that  if  you  had 
a  window  to  his  bosom,  you  would  there 
see  the  fourth  commandment  filling  up  as 
large  a  space  of  that  epistle,  which  is  writ- ' 
ten  not  with  ink,  but  with  the  Spirit  of  the 
living  God,  as  it  does  on  the  decalogue  of 
Moses — that  this  is  not  the  peculiarity  of 
some  accidental  Christians,  meeting  our  ob- 
servation on  some  random  walk  over  the 
face  of  Christian  society — that  it  is  the  con- 
stant and  universal  attribute  of  all  Chris- 


tians— that  in  every  age  of  the  church  the 
love  of  the  Sabbath,  and  an  honest  delight 
in  all  its  pious  and  profitable  observances, 
have  ever  stood  out  among  the  visible  linea- 
ments of  the  new  creature  in  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord — that  the  great  Spirit,  whose  of 
fice  it  is  to  inscribe  the  law  of  God  on  the 
hearts  of  those  whose  sins  are  forgiven 
them,  and  whom  he  has  admitted  into  the 
privileges  of  his  new  and  his  better  cove- 
nant, has  never  omitted,  in  a  single  in- 
stance, to  make  the  remembrance  of  the 
Sabbath  one  of  the  most  conspicuous,  and 
one  of  the  most  indelible  articles  of  that  in- 
scription. And  thus  has  it  happened,  that 
without  any  statutory  enactment  in  the 
whole  compass  of  the  New  Testament  upon 
the  subject — without  any  formal  setting 
forth  of  Sabbath  observation,  or  any  laying 
down  of  a  Sabbath  ceremonial,  the  grave, 
the  solemn,  the  regular,  and  with  all  this, 
the  affectionate  keeping  of  this  distinguished 
day,  has  come  down  to  us  through  a  series 
of  eighteen  centuries,  and  may  be  recog- 
nised to  this  hour  as  the  ever-present  badge 
of  every  Christian  individual;  and  as  the 
great  index  and  palladium  of  religion  in 
every  Christian  land. 

We  shall  just  say  one  thing  more  upon 
this  subject  at  present.  What  now  becomes 
of  him,  who,  like  a  special  pleader,  with  a 
statute-book  in  his  hand,  thinks  that  the 
New  Testament  has  set  him  at  large  from 
every  other  style  of  Sabbath  observation, 
because  he  cannot  find  in  it  any  laying 
down  of  Sabbath  observances?  He  will 
not  own  the  force  of  any  obligation  till  it 
be  shown  to  him  as  one  of  the  clauses  in  the 
bond.  His  constant  appeal  is  to  the  bond. 
He  will  not  exceed,  by  a  single  inch,  the 
literalities  of  the  bond.  He  will  square  his 
every  service,  and  his  every  offering  by  the 
bond ;  and  when  he  is  charged  with  any 
one  of  the  misdemeanours  of  Sabbath-break- 
ing, he  will  tell  you  that  it  is  not  specified 
in  the  bond.  Why,  my  brethren,  if  the 
bond  be  what  he  stands  upon,  he  just 
wakens  up  against  himself  the  old  ministry 
of  condemnation.  If  it  be  on  the  just  and 
even  footing  of  the  bond  that  he  chooses  to 
have  his  exactly  literal  dealings  with  God, 
on  this  footing  God  will  enter  into  judg- 
ment with  him ;  and  soon,  and  very  soon, 
will  he  convict  him  of  his  glaring  deficien- 
cies from  his  own  favourite  standard,  the 
bond.  Ah,  my  brethren,  when  a  Christian 
serves  his  reconciled  Father,  it  is  the  ser- 
vice of  a  liberal  and  spontaneous  attach- 
ment. His  aim  is  to  please  him  and  to  glo- 
rify him  to  the  uttermost ;  and  he  is  never 
more  delighted  than  when  it  is  in  his  power 
to  offer  the  God  whom  he  loves,  some  of 
those  substantial  testimonies  of  affection 
which  no  jealousy  can  extort  by  any  of  its 
enactments,  and  the  letter  of  no  law  is  able 
to  embody  in  any  of  its  descriptions.  With 


XI.] 


ON  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  PREDESTINATION. 


325 


such  a  spirit,  and  such  a  cordiality  within, 
we  cannot  doubt  for  a  moment  the  delight 
which  such  a  man  will  take  in  the  Sabbath, 
and  how  dear  to  his  bosom  will  the  affect- 
ing remembrance  be  to  which  it  is  conse- 
crated, and  how  diligently  lie  will  cultivate 
its  every  hour  to  the  purpose  for  which  it 
was  made — and  how,  knowing  that  the 
Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  he  will  earn- 
estly and  honestly  give  himself  to  the  task 
of  realizing  all  its  usefulness  to  himself  and 
to  his  family.  And  do  you  think,  that  God 
will  not  see  this?  Do  you  think,  that  he 
will  stand  in  need  of  any  literal  specifica- 
tions by  which  he  may  mark  the  character 


of  this  man  on  the  day  of  retribution  ?  Will 
he  not  be  able  to  read  that  epistle  which  he 
himself  has  engraven  on  the  fleshly  tablets 
of  his  heart?  Will  he  not  know  his  own? 
Will  he  not  recognise  all  the  lineaments  of 
that  new  creature,  which  has  been  fashioned 
by  his  own  spirit — and  on  that  day  when 
the  secrets  of  every  heart  are  laid  open,  will 
not  the  Sabbath  observations  of  an  honest 
and  affectionate  believer,  flowing,  as  they 
do,  from  the  impulses  of  a  love  for  that  law 
which  is  written  on  his  mind,  be  put  down 
among  those  good  deeds  which  shall  be 
found  to  praise,  and  honour,  and  glory,,  at 
the  solemn  reckoning  of  the  judgment  seat. 


SERMON  XI. 

On  the  Doctrine  of  Predestination. 

"And  now  I  exhort  you  to  be  of  good  cheer  :  for  there  shall  be  no  loss  of  any  man's  life  among  you,  but 
of  the  ship.  Paul  said  to  the  centurion  and  to  the  soldiers,  Except  these  abide  in  the  ship,  ye  cannot  be 
saved." — Acts  xvii.  22,  31. 


The  comparison  of  these  two  verses 
lands  us  in  what  may  appear  to  many  to  be 
a  very  dark  and  unprofitabe  speculation. 
Now,  our  object  in  setting  up  this  compari- 
son, is  not  to  foster  in  any  of  you  a  tendency 
to  meddle  with  matters  too  high  for  us ;  but 
to  protect  you  against  the  practical  mischief 
of  such  a  tendency.  You  have  all  heard  of 
the  doctrine  of  predestination.  It  has  long 
been  a  settled  article  of  our  church.  And 
there  tnusl  lie  a  sad  deal  of  evasion  and  of 
unfair  handling  with  particular  passages, 
to  get  free  of  the  evidence  which  we  find 
for  it  in  the  Bible.  And  independently  of 
Scripture  altogether,  the  denial  of  this  doc- 
trine brings  a  number  of  monstrous  con- 
ceptions  along  with  it.  It  supposes  God  to 
make  a  world,  and  not  to  reserve  in  his 
own  hand  the  management  of  its  concerns. 
Though  it  should  concede  to  him  an  abso- 
lute sovereignty  over  all  matter,  it  deposes 
him  from  his  sovereignty  over  the  region 
of  created  minds,  that  far  more  dignified 
and  interesting  portion  of  his  works.  The 
greatest  events  of  the  history  of  the  uni- 
verse, are  those  which  are  brought  about 
by  the  agency  of  willing  and  intelligent  be- 
ings; and  the  enemies  of  the  doctrine  in- 
vest every  one  of  these  beings  with  some 
sovereign  and  independent  principle  of 
freedom,  in  virtue  of  which  it  may  be  as- 
serted of  this  whole  class  of  events,  that 
they  happened,  not  because  they  were  or- 
dained of  God,  but  because  the  creatures 
of  God,  by  their  own  uncontrolled  power, 
brought  them  into  existence.  At  this  rate, 
even  he  to  whom  we  give  the  attribute  of 
omniscience,  is  not  able  to  say  at  this  mo- 
ment, what  shall  be  the  fortune  or  the  fate 


of  any  individual — and  the  whole  train  of 
future  history  is  left  to  the  wildness  of  ac- 
cident. All  this  carries  along  with  it  so 
complete  a  dethronement  of  God — it  is 
bringing  his  creation  under  the  dominion 
of  so  many  nameless  and  undeterminable 
contingencies — it  is  taking  the  world  and 
the  current  of  its  history  so  entirely  out 
of  the  hands  of  him  who  formed  it — it  is 
withal  so  opposite  to  what  obtains  in  every 
other  field  of  observation,  where,  instead 
of  the  lawlessness  of  chance,  we  shall  find 
that  the  more  we  attend,  the  more  we  per- 
ceive of  a  certain  necessary  and  establish- 
ed order — that  from  these  and  other  con- 
siderations which  might  be  stated,  the 
doctrine  in  question,  in  addition  to  the  tes- 
timonies which  we  find  for  it  in  the  Bible, 
is  at  this  moment  receiving  a  ver3r  general 
support  from  the  speculations  of  infidel  as 
well  as  Christian  philosophers. 

Assenting,  as  we  do,  to  this  doctrine,  wo 
state  it  as  our  conviction,  that  God  could 
point  the  finger  of  his  omniscience  to  every 
one  individual  amongst  us,  and  tell  what 
shall  be  the  fate  of  each,  and  the  place  of 
each,  and  the  state  of  suffering  or  enjoy- 
ment of  each  at  any  one  period  of  futurity, 
however  distant.  Well  does  he  know  those 
of  us  who  are  vessels  of  wrath  fitted  for  de- 
struction, and  those  of  us  whom  he  has 
predestinated  to  be  conformed  to  the  image 
of  his  dear  Son,  and  to  be  rendered  meet 
for  the  inheritance.  We  are  not  saying, 
that  we,  or  that  any  of  you  could  so  cluster 
and  arrange  the  two  sets  of  individuals 
This  is  one  of  the  secret  things  which  be- 
long to  God.  It  is  not  our  duty  to  be  alto- 
gether silent  about  the  doctrine  of  predes- 


326 


ON  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  PREDESTINATION. 


[SERM. 


tination  ;  for  the  Bible  is  not  silent  about  it, 
and  it  is  our  duty  to  promulgate  and  to 
hold  up  our  testimony  for  all  that  we  find 
there.  But  certain  it  is,  that  the  doctrine 
has  been  so  injudiciously  meddled  with — 
it  has.  tempted  so  many  ingenious  and  spe- 
culative men  to  transgress  the  limits  of 
Scripture — it  has  engendered  so  much  pre- 
sumption among  some,  and  so  much  de- 
spondency among  others — it  has  been  so 
much  abused  to  the  mischief  of  practical 
Christianity,  that  it  were  well  for  us  all, 
could  we  carefully  draw  the  line  between 
the  secret  things  which  belong  to  God,  and 
the  things  which  are  revealed,  and  belong 
to  us  and  to  our  children. 

With  this  view,  we  shall,  in  the  first 
place,  lay  before  you  the  observations 
which  are  suggested  by  the  immediate  his- 
tory in  the  passage  now  submitted  to  you. 
And,  in  the  second  place,  we  shall  attempt 
to  evince  its  application  to  us  of  the  pre- 
sent day,  and  how  far  it  should  carry  an 
influence  over  the  concerns  of  practical 
godliness. 

I.  In  the  22d  verse  Paul  announces  in 
absolute  terms,  that  all  the  men  of  the  ship 
were  to  be  saved.  He  had  been  favoured 
with  this  intimation  from  the  mouth  of  an 
angel.  It  was  the  absolute  purpose  of  God, 
and  no  obstacle  whatever  could  prevent  its 
accomplishment.  To  him  belongs  that  know- 
ledge which  sees  every  thing,  and  that 
power  which  determines  every  thing  ;  and 
he  could  say  to  his  prophet,  "  These  men 
will  certainly  be  saved."  Compare  this 
with  what  we  have  in  the  31st  verse.  By 
this  time  the  sailors  had  given  up  all  hope 
of  the  safety  of  the  vessel.  They  had  toiled, 
as  they  thought,  in  vain — and  in  despair  of 
doing  any  good,  they  ceased  from  working 
the  ship,  and  resolved  to  abandon  her. 
With  this  view  they  let  down  the  boat  to 
try  the  chance  of  deliverance  for  them- 
selves, and  leave  the  passengers  to  perish. 
Upon  this  Paul,  though  his  mind  had  been 
previously  assured,  by  an  intimation  from 
the  foreknowledge  and  predestination  of 
God,  that  there  should  be  no  loss  of  men's 
lives,  put  on  all  the  appearance  of  earnest- 
ness and  urgency — and  who  can  doubt, 
that  he  really  felt  this  earnestness  at  the 
moment  of  his  speaking  to  the  centurion, 
when  he  told  him,  that  unless  these  men 
should  abide  in  the  ship,  they  would  not 
be  saved?  He  had  before  told  them,  in  the 
most  unrestricted  terms,  that  they  would 
be  saved.  But  this  does  not  restrain  his 
practical  urgency  now — and  the  urgency 
of  Paul  gave  an  alarm  and  a  promptitude 
to  the  mind  of  the  centurion — and  the  cen- 
turion ordered  his  soldiers  to  cut  the  ropes 
which  fastened  the  boat  to  the  vessel,  that 
the  sailors,  deprived  of  this  mode  of  escape, 
might  be  forcibly  detained  among  them — 
and  the  soldiers  obeyed — and  the  sailors 


were  kept  on  board,  and  rendered  the  full 
benefit  of  their  seamanship  and  their  exer- 
tions. They  did  what  other  passengers 
could  not  do.  They  lightened  the  ship. 
They  took  up  the  anchors.  They  loosed# 
the  rudder-bands.  They  hoisted  up  the 
mainsail  to  the  wind — and  the  upshot  of 
this  long  intermediate  process,  with  all  its 
steps,  was,  that  the  men  escaped  safe  to  the 
land,  and  the  decree  of  God  was  accom- 
plished. 

Now,  in  the  first  instance,  it  was  true,  in 
the  most  absolute  sense  of  the  word,  that 
these  men  were  to  be  saved.  And  in  the 
second  instance,  it  was  no  less  true,  that 
unless  the  sailors  abode  in  the  ship,  they 
could  not  be  saved.  And  the  terms  of  this 
apparent  contradiction  admit  of  a  very  ob- 
vious reconciliation  on  the  known  truth, 
that  Godworketh  by  instruments.  He  may 
carry  every  one  purpose  of  his  into  imme- 
diate accomplishment  by  the  direct  energy 
of  his  own  hands.  But  in  point  of  fact, 
this  is  not  his  general  way  of  proceeding. 
He  chooses  rather  to  arrive  at  the  accom- 
plishment of  many  of  his  objects  by  a  suc- 
cession of  steps,  orbytheconcurrence  of  one 
or  more  visible  instruments,  which  require 
time  for  their  operation.  This  is  a  truth  to 
which  all  nature  and  all  experience  lend 
their  testimony.  It  was  his  purpose  that, 
at  the  moment  I  am  now  addressing  you, 
there  should  be  light  over  the  face  of  Ihe 
country,  and  this  purpose  he  accomplishes 
by  the  instrumentality  of  the  sun.  There 
is  a  time  coming,  when  light  shall  be  fur- 
nished out  to  us  in  another  way — when 
there  shall  be  no  need  cither  of  the  sun  or 
the  moon  to  lighten  the  city  of  our  habita- 
tion—but when  the  giory  of  God  shall 
lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  shall  be  the  light 
thereof.  But  this  is  not  the  way  at  pre- 
sent, and,  therefore,  it  is  both  true,  that  it 
was  God's  purpose  there  should  be  light 
over  us  and  around  us  at  this  moment,  and 
that  unless  the  sun  had  risen  upon  us  this 
morning,  there  would  have  been  no  such 
light.  It  may  be  the  purpose  of  God  to 
bless  the  succeeding  year  with  a  plentiful 
harvest.  He  could  accomplish  this  pur- 
pose in  two  ways.  He  could  make  the 
ripened  corn  start  into  existence  by  a  sin- 
gle word  of  his  power.  But  this  is  not  the 
actual  way  in  which  he  carries  such  de- 
signs into  accomplishment.  He  does  it  by 
the  co-operation  of  many  visible  instru- 
ments. It  is  true,  he  can  pour  abundance 
among  us  even  in  the  midst  of  adverse 
weather  and  unfavourable  seasons.  But  he 
actually  does  it  by  means  of  favourable 
weather  and  favourable  seasons.  It  is  not 
in  spite  of  bad  weather  that  we  receive 
from  his  hands  the  blessings  of  plenty 
— but  in  consequence  of  good  weather- 
sunshine  and  shower  succeeding  each 
other  in  fit  proportion— calm  to  prevent  the 


xi.l 


ON  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  PREDESTINATION. 


327 


shaking  of  the  corn,  and  wind  in  sufficient 
quantity  to  winnow  it,  and  make  a  prospe- 
rous ingathering.  Should  it  be  the  purpose 
of  God  to  give  a  plentiful  harvest  to  us  next 
year,  it  will  certainly  happen,  and  yet  it 
may  be  no  less  true,  that  unless  such  wea- 
ther come,  we  shall  have  no  such  plentiful 
harvest.  God  who  appoints  the  end,  orders 
and  presides  over  the  whole  series  of  means 
which  lead  to  it.  These  visible  causes  are 
all  in  his  hand.  They  are  the  instruments 
of  his  power.  The  elements  are  his,  and  he 
can  either  restrain  their  violence,  or  let 
them  loose  in  fury  upon  the  world. 

Now,  look  upon  human  beings  as  the  in- 
struments of  his  pleasure,  and  you  have  an 
equally  complete  explanation  of  the  passage 
before  us.  You  will  be  made  to  understand 
how  it  is  true,  that  it  was  God's  absolute 
purpose  that  the  men  of  the  vessel  should 
be  saved,  and  how  it  is  equally  true,  that 
■unless  the  sailors  abode  in  the  ship,  they 
could  not  be  saved.  Why,  the  same  God 
who  determined  the  end,  gave  certain  effi- 
cacy to  the  means  which  he  himself  had 
instituted  and  set  agoing  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  end.  It  does  not  at  all  affect 
the  certainty  of  God's  influence  over  these 
means,  that  in  addition  to  wind,  and  water, 
and  material  elements,  there  were  also  hu- 
man beings  employed  as  instruments  for 
carrying  his  purpose  into  execution.  It  is 
expressly  said  of  God,  not  only  that  he  still- 
eth  the  waves  of  the  sea,  but  that  he  also 
stilieth  the  tumults  of  the  people,  and  that 
he  can  turn  the  heart  of  man  as  the  rivers 
of  water,  turning  it  whithersoever  he  will. 
He  appoints  the  end,  and  it  does  not  at  all 
essi  ::  the  w'ure  and  absolute  nature  of  the 
appointment,  that  he  brings  it  about  by  a 
long  succession  of  means,  provided  that  it 
is  his  power  which  gives  effect  to  every 
step  iii  the  progress  and  operation  of  these 
means.  Sow.  in  the  case  before  us,  there 
was  just  such  a  progress  as  we  pointe;!  oul 
:n  the:.-,  of  a  favourable  harvest.  He  had 
determined,  that  all  the  men  of  the  vessel 
shoul  :  I;  but  agreeably  to  the  me- 

thod of  his  administration  in  other  cases, 
he  brought  it  about  by  the  operation  of  in- 
struments, ile  did  not  save  them  againsl 
the  use  of  instruments,  but  he  did  it  by  the 
use  of  instruments.  The  instruments  he 
employed  were  men.  Paul  speaking  to  the 
centurion — the  centurion  ordering  the  sol- 
diers to  cut  the  ropes,  and  let  the  boat  away 
from  the  vessel — the  sailors  obliged  to  work 
for  their  own  safety — these  were  the  instru- 
ments of  Cod.  and  he  had  as  much  com- 
mand over  them  as  of  any  others  he  has 
created,  lie  brought  about  the  saving  of 
the  men  by  means  of  those  instruments,  as 
certainly  as  he  brings  about  a  good  harvest 
by  the  instrument  of  favourable  weather, 
and  congenial  seasons.  He  is  as  much 
master  of  the  human  heart,  and  its  determi- 


nations, as  he  is  of  the  elements.  He  reigns 
in  the  mind  of  man,  and  can  turn  its  pur- 
posts  in  any  way  that  suits  his  purposes. 
He  made  Paul  speak.  He  made  the  centu- 
rion listen  and  be  impressed  by  it.  He 
made  the  soldiers  obey.  He  made  the  sai- 
lors exert  themselves.  The  conditional  as- 
sertion of  the  31st  verse  was  true;  but  he 
made  the  assertion  serve  the  purpose  for 
which  it  was  uttered,  he  overruled  the 
condition,  and  brought  about  the  fulfilment 
of  the  absolute  prophecy  in  the  22d  verse. 
The  whole  of  this  process  was  as  com- 
pletely overruled  by  him  as  any  other  pro- 
cess in  nature — and  in  virtue  too  of  the  very 
same  power  by  which  he  can  cause  the 
wind  of  heaven  to  fly  loose  upon  the  world, 
make  the  rain  descend,  the  corn  ripen  into 
harvest,  and  all  the  blessings  of  plenty  sit  in 
profusion  over  a  happy  and  a  favoured  land. 
There  is  no  inconsistency,  then,  between 
these  verses.  God  says  in  one  of  them,  by  the 
mouth  of  Paul,  that  these  men  were  certainly 
to  be  saved.  And  Paul  says  in  the  other 
of  these  verses,  that  unless  the  centurion 
and  soldiers  were  to  do  so  and  so,  they 
should  not  be  saved.  In  one  of  the  verses, 
it  is  made  to  be  the  certain  and  unfailing 
appointment  of  God.  In  the  oilier,  it  is 
made  to  depend  on  the  centurion.  There 
is  no  difficulty  in  all  this,  if  you  would  just 
consider,  that  God,  who  made  the  end  cer- 
tain, made  the  means  certain  also.  It  is 
true,  that  the  end  was  certainly  to  happen, 
and  it  is  as  true  that  the  end  would  not 
happen  without  the  means — but  God  se- 
cured the  happening  of  both,  and  so  gives 
sureness  and  consistency  to  the  passage  be- 
fore us. 

Now,  it  is  worth  while  to  attend  here 
both  to  the  conduct  of  Paul  who  gave  the 
directions,  and  to  the  conduct  of  the  centu- 
rion who  obeyed  them.  Paul,  who  gave 
the  directions,  knew,  in  virtue  of  the  reve- 
lation that  was  made  to  him  some  time  be- 
fore, that  the  men  were  certainly  to  be 
saved,  and  yet  this  docs  not  prevent  him 
from  urging  them  to  the  practical  adoption 
of  means  for  saving  themselves.  He  knew 
that  their  being  saved  was  a  thing  predesti- 
nated, and  as  sure  as  the  decree  of  heaven 
could  make  it;  but  he  must  likewise  have 
known,  that  while  it  was  God's  counsel 
they  should  be  saved,  it  was  also  God's 
will  that  they  should  he  saved  by  the  exer- 
tions of  the  sailors— that  they  we're  the  in- 
struments he  made  choice  of — that  this  was 
the  way  in  which  he  wished  it  to  be  brought 
about;  and  Paul  had  too  high  a  reverence 
for  the  will  of  God,  to  decline  the  use  o{ 
those  practical  expedients,  which  formed 
the  likeliest  way  of  carrying  this  will  into 
effect.  It  is  a  very  striking  circumstance 
that  the  same  Paul  who  knew  absolutely 
and  unequivocally  that  the  men  were  to  be 
saved,  could  also  say,  and  say  with  truth. 


328 


ON  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  PREDESTINATION. 


[SERM. 


that  unless  the  sailors  were  detained  in  the 
ship,  they  should  not  be  saved.  Both  were 
true,  and  both  were  actually  brought  about. 
The  thing  was  done  by  the  appointment  of 
God,  and  it  was  also  done  by  a  voluntary 
act  on  the  part  of  the  centurion  and  his  sol- 
diers. Paul  knew  of  the  appointment,  but 
he  did  not  feel  himself  exempted  by  rhir, 
knowledge,  from  the  work  of  practically 
influencing  the  will  of  the  people  who  were 
around  him ;  and  the  way  in  which  he  got 
ihem  to  act,  was  by  bringing  the  urgency 
of  a  prevailing  argument  to  bear  upon  them. 
He  told  them  that  their  lives  depended  upon 
it.  God  put  it  into  Paul's  heart  to  make  use 
of  the  argument,  and  he  gave  it  that  in- 
fluence over  the  hearts  of  those  to  whom  it 
was  addressed,  that  by  the  instrumentality 
of  men,  his  purpose,  conceived  from  eter- 
nity, and  revealed  beforehand  to  the  Apos- 
tle, was  carried  forward  to  its  accomplish- 
ment. 

And  again,  as  the  knowledge  that  they 
were  to  be  saved,  did  not  prevent  Paul  from 
giving  directions  to  the  centurion  and  sol- 
diers for  saving  themselves,  neither  did  it 
prevent  them  from  a  practical  obedience  to 
these  directions.  It  does  not  appear  whether 
they  actually,  at  this  time,  believed  Paul  to 
be  a  messenger  of  God — though  it  is  likely, 
from  the  previous  history  of  the  voyage, 
that  they  did.  If  they  did  not,  then  they 
acted  as  the  great  majority  of  men  do,  they 
acted  as  unconscious  instruments  for  the 
execution  of  the  divine  purposes.  But  if 
they  did  believe  Paul  to  be  a  prophet,  it  is 
highly  striking  to  observe,  that  the  know- 
ledge they  had  gotten  from  his  mouth  of 
their  really  and  absolutely  escaping  with 
their  lives,  did  not  slacken  their  utmost  de- 
gree of  activity  in  the  business  of  working 
for  the  preservation  of  their  lives,  at  a  bid- 
ding from  the  mouth  of  the  same  prophet. 
He  is  a  prophet  from  God — and  whatever 
he  cays  must  be  true.  He  tells  us  that  we 
are  to  escape  with  our  lives — let  us  believe 
this  and  rejoice  in  it.  But  he  also  tells  us, 
that  unless  we  do  certain  things,  we  shall 
not  escape  with  our  lives — let  us  believe 
this  also,  and  do  these  things.  A  fine  ex- 
ample* on  the  one  hand,  of  their  faithful 
dependence  on  his  declarations,  and,  on  the 
other,  of  their  practical  obedience  to  his  re- 
quirements. If  one  were  to  judge  by  the 
prosperous  result  of  the  whole  business, 
the  way  in  which  the  centurion  and  sol- 
diers were  affected  by  the  different  revela- 
tions of  Paul,  was  the  very  way  which 
satisfied  God — for  it  was  rewarded  with 
success,  and  issued  both  in  the  fulfilment  of 
his  decree,  and  the  completion  of  their 'de- 
liverance. 

II.  We  now  come  to  the  second  thing 
proposed,  which  was  to  evince  the  appli- 
cation of  the  passage  to  us  of  the  present 
day — and  how  far  it  should  carry  an  in- 


fluence over  the  concerns  of  practical  god- 
liness. 

We  shall  rejoice  in  the  first  instance,  if 
the  explanation  we  have  now  given,  have 
the  effect  of  clearing  away  any  of  those 
perplexities  which  throw  a  darkening  cloud 
over  the  absolute  and  universal  sovereignty 
of  God.  We  are  ready  enough  to  concede 
to  the  Supreme  Being  the  administration  of 
the  material  world,  and  to  put  into  his  hand 
all  the  force  of  its  mighty  elements.  But 
let  us  carry  the  commanding  influence  of 
Deity  into  the  higher  world  of  moral  and 
intelligent  beings.  Let  us  not  erect  the 
will  of  the  creature  into  an  independent 
principle.  Let  us  not  conceive  that  the 
agency  of  man  can  bring  about  one  single 
iota  of  deviation  from  the  plans  and  the 
purposes  of  God  ;  or  that  he  can  be  thwart- 
ed and  compelled  to  vary  in  a  single  case 
by  the  movement  of  any  of  those  subordi- 
nate beings  whom  he  himself  has  created. 
There  may  be  a  diversity  of  operations,  but 
it  is  God  who  worketh  all  in  all.  Look  at 
the  resolute  and  independent  man,  and  you 
there  see  the  purposes  of  the  human  mind 
entered  upon  with  decision,  and  followed 
up  by  vigorous  and  successful  exertion. 
But  these  only  make  up  one  diversity  of 
God's  operations.  The  will  of  man,  active, 
and  spontaneous,  and  fluctuating  as  it  ap- 
pears to  be,  is  an  instrument  in  his  hand — 
and  he  turns  it  at  his  pleasure — and  he 
brings  other  instruments  to  act  upon  it — 
and  he  plies  it  with  all  its  excitements — and 
he  measures  the  force  and  proportion  of 
each  of  them — and  every  step  of  every  in- 
dividual receives  as  determinate  a  character 
from  the  hand  of  God,  as  every  mile  of  a 
planet's  orbit,  or  every  gust  of  wind,  or 
every  wave  of  the  sea,  or  every  particle  of 
flying  dust,  or  every  rivulet  of  flowing 
water.  This  power  of  God  knows  no  ex- 
ceptions. It  is  absolute  and  unlimited,  and 
while  it  embraces  the  vast,  it  carries  its  re- 
sistless influence  to  all  the  minute  and  un- 
noticed diversities  of  existence.  It  reigns 
and  operates  through  all  the  secrecies  of 
the  inner  man.  It  gives  birth  to  every  pur- 
pose. It  gives  impulse  to  every  desire.  It 
gives  shape  and  colour  to  every  conception. 
It  wields  an  entire  ascendency  over  every 
attribute  of  the  mind  ;  and  the  will,  and  the 
fancy,  and  the  understanding,  with  all  the 
countless  variety  of  their  hidden  and  fugi- 
tive operations,  are  submitted  to  it.  It 
gives  movement  and  direction  through  every 
one  point  in  the  line  of  our  pilgrimage. 
At  no  one  moment  of  time  does  it  abandon 
us.  It  follows  us  to  the  hour  of  death,  and 
it  carries  us  to  our  place  and  our  everlasting 
destiny  in  the  region  beyond  it.  It  is  true, 
that  no  one  gets  to  heaven,  but  he,  who  by 
holiness,  is  meet  for  it.  But  the  same  power 
which  carries  us  there,  works  in  us  the 
meetness.    And  if  we  are  conformed  to  the 


XI.] 


ON  THE  DOCTRINE   OF  PREDESTINATION. 


329 


image  of  the  Saviour,  it  is  by  the  energy 
of  the  same  predestinating  God,  whose  good 
pleasure  it  is  to  give  unto  us  the  kingdom 
prepared  for  us  before  the  foundation  of 
the  world. 

Thus  it  is  that  some  are  elected  to  ever- 
lasting life.  This  is  an  obvious  doctrine 
of  Scripture.  The  Bible  brings  it  forward, 
and  it  is  not  for  us,  the  interpreters  of  the 
Bible,  to  keep  it  back  from  you.  God 
could,  if  it  pleased  him,  read  out,  at  this 
moment,  the  names  of  those  in  this  congre- 
gation, who  are  ordained  to  eternal  life,  and 
are  written  in  his  book.  In  reference  to 
their  deliverance  from  shipwreck,  he  en- 
abled Paul  to  say  of  the  whole  ship's  com- 
pany, that  they  were  to  be  saved.  In  refer- 
ence to  your  deliverance  from  wrath  and 
from  punishment,  he  could  reveal  to  us  the 
names  of  the  elect  among  you,  and  enable 
us  to  say  of  them  that  they  are  certainly  to 
be  saved. 

But  again,  the  same  God  who  ordains  the 
end,  ordains  also  the  means  which  go  be- 
fore it.  In  virtue  of  the  end  being  ordained 
and  made  known  to  him,  Paul  could  say 
that  all  the  men's  lives  were  to  be  saved. 
And  in  virtue  of  the  means  being  ordained 
and  made  known  to  him,  he  could  also  say, 
that  unless  the  sailors  abode  in  the  ship, 
they  should  not  be  saved.  In  the  same 
manner,  if  the  ordained  end  were  made 
known  to  us,  we  could,  perhaps,  say  of 
some  individual  among  you,  that  you  are 
certainly  to  be  saved.  And  if  the  ordained 
means  were  made  known  to  us,  we  could 
say,  that  unless  you  are  rendered  meet  for 
the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light,  you 
shall  not  be  saved.  Now,  the  ordination  of 
the  end,  God  has  not  been  pleased  to  reveal 
to  us.  He  tftis  not  told  us  who  among  you 
are  to  be  saved,  as  he  told  Paul  of  the  de- 
liverance of  his  ship's  company.  This  is 
one  of  the  secret  things  which  belong  to 
him,  and  we  dare  not  meddle  with  it.  But 
he  has  told  us  about  the  ordained  means, 
and  we  know,  through  the  medium  of  the 
Bible,  that  unless  you  do  such  and  such 
things,  you  shall  not  be  saved.  This  is  one 
of  the  revealed  things  which  belong  to  us, 
and  with  as  great  truth  and  practical  ur- 
gency as  Paul  made  use  of,  when  he  said 
to  the  centurion  and  soldiers,  that  unless 
these  men  abide  in  the  ship  ye  shall  not  be 
saved,  do  we  say  to  one  and  to  all  of  you, 
unless  ye  repent  ye  shall  not  be  saved — un- 
less ye  do  works  meet  for  repentance,  ye 
shall  not  be  saved — unless  ye  believe  the 
Gospel  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  ye  shall 
not  be  saved — unless  ye  are  born  again,  ye 
shall  not  be  saved — unless  the  deeds  done 
in  your  body  be  good  deeds,  and  ye  bring 
forth  those  fruits  of  righteousness  which 
are  by  Jesus  Christ  to  the  praise  and  glory 
of  God,  ye  shall  not  be  saved. 

Mark  the  difference  between  the  situation 
42 


of  Paul  urging  upon  the  people  of  the  ship 
the  immediate  adoption  of  the  only  way  by 
which  their  lives  could  be  saved,  and'  the 
situation  of  an  ordinary  minister  urging  it 
upon  the  people  of  his  church,  to  take  to 
that  way  of  faith  and  repentance,  by  which 
alone  they  can  save  their  souls  from  the 
wrath  that  is  now  abiding  on  them.  Paul 
did  know  that  the  people  were  certainly  to 
escape  with  their  lives,  and  that  did  not 
prevent  him  from  pressing  upon  them  the 
measures  which  they  ought  to  adopt  for 
their  preservation.  Even,  then,  though  a 
minister  did  know  those  of  his  people 
whose  names  are  written  in  the  book  of 
life,  that  ought  not  to  hinder  him  from 
pressing  it  upon  them  to  lay  hold  of  eter- 
nal life — to  lay  up  their  treasure  in  heaven 
— to  labour  for  the  meat  that  endureth — to 
follow  after  that  holiness,  without  which 
no  man  shall  see  the  Lord — to  be  strong  in 
the  faith,  and  such  a  faith  too  as  availeth, 
even  faith  which  worketh  by  love,  and  of 
which  we  may  say,  even  those  whom  we 
assuredly  know  to  be  the  chosen  heirs  of 
immortality,  that  unless  this  faith  abideth 
in  them,  they  shall  not  be  saved.  But  it  so 
happens,  that  we  do  not  know  who  are, 
and  who  are  not,  the  children  of  election. 
This  is  a  secret  thing  belonging  to  God, 
and  which  is  not  imparted  to  us ;  still  it 
would  be  our  part  to  say  to  those  of  whose 
final  salvation  we  were  assured,  believe  the 
Gospel,  or  you  shall  not  be  saved — repent, 
or  you  shall  not  be  saved— purify  yourselves, 
even  as  God  is  pure,  or  you  shall  not  be 
saved.  But  we  are  not  in  possession  of  the 
secret — and  how  much  more  then  does  it 
lie  upon  us  to  ply  with  earnestness  the  fears 
and  the  consciences  of  our  hearers,  by  those 
revealed  things  which  God  hath  been  pleas- 
ed to  make  known  to  us?  What!  if  Paul, 
though  assured  by  an  angel  from  heaven 
of  the  final  deliverance  of  this  ship's  com- 
pany, still  persists  in  telling  them,  that  if 
they  leave  certain  things  undone,  their  de- 
liverance will  be  impossible — shall  we,  ut- 
terly in  the  dark  about  the  final  state  of  a 
single  hearer  we  are  addressing,  let  down 
for  a  single  instant  the  practical  urgency 
of  the  New  Testament  ? 

The  predestination  of  God  respecting  the 
final  escape  of  Paul  and  his  fellow-travel- 
lers from  shipwreck,  though  made  known 
to  the  Apostle,  did  not  betray  him  into  the 
indolence  which  is  ascribed,  and  falsely 
ascribed,  to  the  belief  of  this  doctrine;  nor 
did  it  restrain  him  from  spiriting  on  the 
people  to  the  most  strenuous  and  fatiguing 
exertions.  And  shall  we,  who  only  know 
in  general  that  God  does  predestinate,  but 
cannot  carry  it  home  with  assurance  to  a 
single  individual,  convert  this  doctrine  into 
a  plea  of  indolence  and  security?  Even 
should  we  see  the  mark  of  God  upon  their 
foreheads,  it  would  be  our  duty  to  labour 


JO 


ON  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  PREDESTINATION. 


[SERM. 


them  with  the  necessity  of  doing  those 
things,  which,  if  left  undone,  will  exclude 
from  the  kingdom  of  God.  But,  we  make 
no  such  pretensions.  We  see  no  mark  upon 
any  of  your  foreheads.  We  possess  no 
more  than  the  Bible,  and  access  through 
the  Mediator  to  him,  who,  by  his  Spirit,  can 
open  our  understandings  to  understand  it. 
The  revealed  things  which  we  find  there 
belong  to  us,  and  we  press  them  upon  you 
— "  Unless  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise 
perish."  "  If  ye  believe  not  in  the  Son  of 
God,  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  you." 
li  Be  not  deceived,  neither  covetous,  nor 
thieves,  nor  extortioners,  nor  drunkards, 
shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God."  "  He 
who  forsaketh  not  all,  shall  not  be  a  disci- 
ple of  Christ."  "The  fearful,  and  the  un- 
believing, and  the  abominable,  and  all  liars 
shall  have  their  part  in  the  lake  which  burn- 
etii with  fire  and  brimstone."  These  are 
plain  declarations,  and  apart  from  the  doc- 
trine of  predestination  altogether,  they 
ought,  and  if  they  are  believed  and  listened 
to,  they  will  have  a  practical  influence  upon 
you.  We  call  upon  you  not  to  resist  this 
influence,  but  to  cherish  it.  If  any  of  you 
are  the  children  of  election,  it  is  by  the 
right  influence  of  revealed  things  upon  your 
understandings  and  your  consciences,  that 
this  secret  thing  will  be  brought  to  pass. 
Paul  said  as  much  to  the  centurion  and  the 
soldiers,  as  that  if  you  do  the  things,  I  call 
upon  you  to  do,  you  will  certainly  be  saved. 
They  did  what  he  bade  them,  and  the  de- 
cree of  God  respecting  their  deliverance 
from  shipwreck,  a  decree  which  Paul  had 
the  previous  knowledge  of,  was  accom- 
plished. We  also  feel  ourselves  warranted 
to  say  to  one  and  to  all  of  you,  "  Believe 
in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  ye  shall  be 
saved."  "  Repent  and  be  converted,  and 
your  sins  shall  be  forgiven  you."  Return 
unto  God,  and  he  will  be  reconciled.  If 
you  do  as  we  bid  you,  God's  decree  re- 
specting your  deliverance  from  hell,  a  de- 
cree which  we  have  not  the  previous  know- 
ledge of,  will  be  made  known  by  its  accom- 
plishment. 

Again,  we  call  upon  you,  our  hearers,  to 
compare  your  situation  with  that  of  the 
centurion  and  the  soldiers.  They  were 
told  by  a  prophet  that  they  were  to  be 
saved,  and  when  that  prophet  told  them 
what  they  were  to  do  for  the  purpose  of 
saving  themselves,  they  obeyed  him.  They 
did  not  say,  "  O  it  is  all  predestinated,  and 
we  may  give  up  our  anxieties  and  do  no- 
thing." They  were  just  as  strenuous  and 
active,  as  if  there  had  been  no  predestina- 
tion in  the  matter.  Paul's  previous  assur- 
rance,  that  all  was  to  end  well,  had  no  effect 
in  lulling  them  to  indolence.  It  did  end 
well,  not  however  without  their  exertions, 
but  by  their  exertions.  How  much  more 
does  it  lie  upon  you  to  enter  with  earnest- 


ness upon  the  business  of  doing.  We  can 
give  you  no  assurance  of  its  being  the  de- 
cree of  God,  that  any  of  you  shall  be  saved. 
But  we  can  give  you  the  assurance,  that 
you  will  be  saved,  if  you  do  such  and  such 
things.  Surely,  if  the  people  whom  Paul 
addressed,  did  not  feel  themselves  exempt- 
ed by  their  knowledge  of  God's  decree, 
from  practically  entering  upon  those  mea- 
sures which  carried  forward  its  accom- 
plishment, you,  who  have  no  such  know- 
ledge, must  feel  doubly  impelled  by  the  un- 
certainty which  hangs  over  you,  to  the  work 
of  making  your  calling  and  your  election 
sure.  You  know  in  general,  that  predes- 
tination is  a  doctrine  of  the  Bible,  but  there 
is  not  one  of  you  who  can  say  of  himself, 
that  God  has  made  known  his  decrees  to 
me,  and  given  me  directly  to  understand, 
that  I  am  the  object  of  a  blessed  predesti- 
nation. This  is  one  point  of  which  you 
know  nothing ;  but  there  is  another  point 
of  which  you  know  something — and  that  is, 
if  I  believe,  if  I  repent,  if  I  be  made  like 
unto  Christ,  if  I  obtain  the  Holy  Spirit  to 
work  in  me  a  conformity  to  his  image — and 
I  am  told,  that  I  shall  obtain  it  if  I  ask  it — 
then  by  this  I  become  an  heir  of  life,  and 
the  decree  of  which  I  know  nothing  at  the 
outset  of  my  concern  about  salvation,  will 
become  more  and  more  apparent  to  me  as 
I  advance  in  a  meetness  for  heaven,  and 
will,  at  length,  become  fully,  and  finally, 
and  conclusively  made  known  by  its  ac- 
complishment. I  may  suffer  my  curiosity 
to  expatiate  on  the  question,  "  Am  I,  or  am 
I  not,  of  the  election  of  God  '?"  But  my 
wisdom  tells  me  that  this  is  not  the  busi- 
ness on  hand.  It  is  not  the  matter  which 
I  am  called  on  to  do  with  at  present.  After 
Paul  said  to  his  companions, 'that  it  was 
quite  indispensable  to  their  safety  that  the 
sailors  should  be  kept  in  the  vessel,  what 
did  the  centurion  and  his  men  do?  Did 
they  fall  a  speculating  about  the  decrees  ? 
Did  they  hug  themselves  in  the  confidence, 
that  as  their  safety  was  a  point  sure  and 
determined  upon,  they  need  to  take  no 
trouble  at  all  in  the  concern  ?  O  no  !  No 
sooner  did  Paul  give  the  word,  than  they 
acted  upon  it.  They  gave  themselves  up 
with  all  the  promptitude  of  men  whose 
lives  were  at  stake,  to  the  business  on  hand. 
They  cut  the  ropes — they  let  go  the  boat — 
they  kept  in  the  sailors — and  from  the  very 
first  moment  of  Paul's  address  to  them  on 
the  subject,  all  was  bustling,  and  strenuous, 
and  unremitting  activity ;  till,  by  the  un- 
wearied perseverance  of  those  living  and 
operative  instruments,  the  decree  of  God 
was  accomplished.  Now,  they  were  much 
better  acquainted  with  the  decree  which 
respected  them,  than  you  are  with  the 
decree  respecting  you.  They  had  the  be- 
forehand knowledge  of  it,  and  will  you  be 
less  active,  or  less  strenuous,  than  they  ? 


XI.] 


ON  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  PREDESTINATION. 


331 


Do,  therefore,  betake  yourselves  to  the  bu- 
siness on  hand.  Let  our  exhortations  to 
embrace  the  free  offer  of  the  Gospel — to 
rely  on  Christ  as  your  Saviour — to  resolve 
against  all  your  iniquities,  and  turn  unto 
him — to  ply  the  throne  of  grace  for  the 
strengthening  influence  of  the  Spirit,  by 
which  alone  you  are  enabled  to  die  unto 
all  sin,  and  live  unto  all  righteousness — let 
this  have  an  immediate,  and  a  stirring,  and 
a  practical  influence  upon  you.  If  you  put 
this  influence  away  from  you,  you  are  in  a 
direct,  way  now  of  proving  what  we  tremble 
to  think  may  be  rendered  clear  and  indis- 
putable at  last,  on  the  great  day  of  the  re- 
velation of  hidden  things,  that  you  have 
neither  part  nor  lot  in  the  matter.  Whatever 
the  employment  be  which  takes  you  up, 
and  hinders  you  from  entering  immediately 
on  the  work  of  faith  and  repentance,  it  is 
an  alarming  symptom  of  your  soul,  that  you 
are  so  taken  up — and  should  the  employ- 
ment be  an  idle  dreaming,  and  amusing  of 
yourselves  with  the  decrees  and  counsels 
of  heaven,  it  is  not  the  less  alarming. 

Some  will  spend  their  time  in  inquiries 
about  the  number  of  the  saved,  when  they 
ought  to  be  striving  for  themselves,  that 
they  might  obtain  an  entrance  into  the  strait 
gate;  and  some  will  waste  those  precious 
moments  in  speculating  about  the  secrets  of 
the  book  of  life,  which  they  should  fill  up 
by  supporting  themselves,  and  making  pro- 
gress through  the  narrowness  of  the  way 
that  leads  to  it.  The  plain  business  we  lay 
upon  you,  is  to  put  away  from  you  the  evil 
of  your  doings — to  submit  yourselves  to 
Christ,  as  he  is  offered  to  you — to  fly  to  his 
atoning  sacrifice  for  the  forgiveness  of  your 
offences — to  place  yourselves  under  the 
guidance  of  his  word,  and  a  dependence  on 
the  influences  of  his  Spirit — to  live  no  longer 
to  yourselves,  but  to  him — and  to  fill  up 
your  weeks  and  your  days  with  those  fruits 
of  righteousness,  by  which  God  is  glorified. 
We  stand  here  by  the  decree  of  heaven,  and 
it  is  by  the  same  decree  that  you  are  now 
sitting  round  and  listening  to  us.  We  feel 
the  importance  of  the  situation  we  occupy; 
and  though  we  believe  in  the  sovereignty 
of  God,  and  the  unfailingness  of  all  his  ap- 
pointments, this,  instead  of  restraining,  im- 
pels us  to  bring  the  message  of  the  Gospel, 
with  all  the  practical  urgency  of  its  invita- 
tions, and  its  warnings,  to  bear  upon  you. 
We  feci,  with  all  our  belief  in  predestina- 
tion, that  our  business  is  not  to  forbear  this 
urgency,  but  to  ply  you  with  it  most  anxi- 
ously, and  earnestly,  and  unceasingly;  and 
you  should  feel,  with  the  same  belief  in  your 
mind,  that  your  business  is  not  to  resist  this 
urgency,  but  to  be  guided  by  its  impulse. 
Who  knows  but  we  may  be  the  humble  in- 
strument, and  you  the  undeserved  subjects 
of  some  high  and  heavenly  ordination?  The 
cutting  of  the  ropes  was  the  turning  point 


on  which  the  deliverance  of  Paul's  com- 
pany from  shipwreck  was  suspended.  Who 
knows  but  the  urgency  we  now  ply  you 
with,  telling  upon  you,  and  carrying  your 
purposes  along  with  it,  may  be  the  very 
step  in  the  wonderful  progress  of  God's 
operations,  on  which  your  conversion  hin- 
ges? We,  therefore,  press  the  Gospel  with 
all  its  duties,  and  all  its  promises,  and  all  its 
privileges  upon  you.  O  listen,  and  resolve, 
and,  manfully  forsaking  all  that  keeps  you 
from  the  Saviour,  we  call  upon  you,  from 
this  moment,  to  give  yourselves  up  unto 
him;  and  be  assured,  it  is  only  by  acting  in 
obedience  to  such  calls  laid  before  you  in 
the  Bible,  and  sounded  in  your  ear  from  the 
pulpit,  that  your  election  unto  life  can  ever 
be  made  known  in  this  world,  or  reach  its 
positive  cons'  mmation  in  eternity. 

And  now  you  can  have  no  difficulty  in 
understanding  how  it  is  th  .,  we  make  our 
calling  and  our  election  sure.  It  is  not  in  the 
power  of  the  elect  to  make  their  election 
surer  in  itself  than  it  really  is;  for  this  is  a 
sureness  which  is  not  capable  of  receiving 
any  addition.  It  is  not  in  the  power  of  the 
elect  to  make  it  surer  to  God — for  all  futurity 
is  submitted  to  his  all-seeing  eye,  and  his 
absolute  knowledge  stands  in  need  of  no 
confirmation.  But  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
the  elect  being  ignorant  for  a  time  of  their 
own  election,  and  their  being  made  sure  of 
it  in  the  progress  of  evidence  and  discovery. 
And  therefore  it  is  that  they  are  called  to 
make  their  election  sure  to  themselves,  or 
to  make  themselves  sure  of  their  election. 
And  how  is  this  to  be  done?  Not  by  read- 
ing it  in  the  book  of  God's  decrees — not  by 
obtaining  from  him  any  direct  information 
about  his  counsels — not  by  conferring  with 
prophet  or  angel,  gifted  with  the  revelation 
of  hidden  things.  But  the  same  God  who 
elects  some  unto  everlasting  life,  and  keeps 
back  from  them  all  direct  information  about 
it,  tells  them  that  he  who  believeth,  and  he 
who  repenteth,  and  he  who  obeyeth  the 
Gospel,  shall  obtain  everlasting  life.  We 
shall  never  in  this  world  have  an  immediate 
communication  from  him,  whether  we  are 
of  the  elect  or  not — but  let  us  believe— let  us 
repent — let  us  obey  the  Saviour,  and  from 
the  first  moment  of  our  setting  ourselves  to 
these  things  in  good  earnest,  we  may  con- 
ceive the  hope  of  a  place  among  the  heirs 
of  immortality.  In  the  progress  and  success 
of  our  endeavours,  this  hope  may  advance 
and  grow  brighter  within  us.  As  we  grow 
in  the  exercises  of  faith  and  obedience,  the 
light  of  a  cheering  manifestation  is  more 
sensibly  felt,  aTid  our  hope  ripens  into  as- 
surance. "  Hereby  do  we  know  that  we 
know  him,  by  our  keeping  his  command- 
ments," is  an  evidence  which  every  year 
becomes  clearer  and  more  encouraging;  and 
thus,  by  a  well-sustained  perseverance  in 
the  exercises  of  the  Christian  life,  do  we 


332 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 


[SERM. 


labour  with  all  diligence  to  make  our  call- 
ing and  election  sure.  We  call  upon  you,  in 
the  language  of  the  Apostle,  to  have  faith, 
and  to  this  faith  add  virtue,  and  knowledge, 
and  temperance,  and  patience,  and  godli- 
ness, and  brotherly  kindness,  and  charity. 
It  is  by  the  doing  of  these  things,  that  you 
are  made  sure  of  your  calling  and  election, 
"  for  if  ye  do  these  things,"  says  Peter,  "ye 
shall  never  fail,  and  an  entrance  shall  be 
ministered  unto  you  abundantly  into  the 
everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Sa- 
viour Jesus  Christ." 

If  there  be  any  of  you  who  have  not  fol- 
lowed this  train  of  observation — if  it  still 
remain  one  of  those  things  of  Paul  which 
are  hard  to  be  understood — let  us  beseech 
you,  at  least,  that  you  wrest  it  not  to  your 
own  destruction,  by  remitting  your  activity, 
and  your  diligence,  and  your  pains-taking 
in  the  service  of  Christ.  Why,  the  doctrine 
of  election  leaves  our  duty  to  exhort,  and 
your  duty  to  obey,  on  the  same  footing  on 
which  it  found  them.  We  are  commissioned 
to  lay  before  you  the  free  offer  of  the  Gos- 
pel— to  press  it  on  the  acceptance  of  one 
and  all  of  you — to  assure  every  individual 
amongst  you  of  a  hearty  welcome  from  the 


Lord  God  merciful  and  gracious — to  call 
you  to  the  service  of  Christ,  that  great  Mas- 
ter of  the  household  of  faith — to  urge  it 
upon  you,  that  you  must  renounce  every 
other  master,  and,  casting  all  your  idols, 
and  vanities,  and  iniquities  away  from  you, 
to  close  with  the  invitation,  and  be  diligent 
in  all  the  duties  and  performances  of  the 
Gospel.  If  you  resist,  or  put  off— if,  blind  to 
the  goodness  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus,  you 
surfer  it  not  to  lead  you  to  repentance — if 
the  call  of  "  awake  to  righteousness,  and  sin 
not,"  make  no  practical  impression  on  you 
— if  the  true  assurance  of  pardon  for  the 
sins  of  the  past,  do  not  fill  your  heart  with 
the  desire  of  sanctification  for  the  future — 
if  the  word  of  Christ  be  not  so  received  by 
you  as  to  lead  to  the  doing  of  it — then  you 
are  just  leaving  undone  those  things,  of 
which  we  say  in  the  words  of  the  text, 
"  Except  these  things  be  done,  ye  cannot  be 
saved" — and  to  all  the  guilt  of  your  past 
disobedience,  you  add  the  aggravation  of 
putting  away  from  you  both  the  offered 
atonement  and  the  commanded  repentance 
of  the  Gospel,  and  "  how  can  you  escape  if 
you  neglect  so  great  a  salvation  ?" 


SERMON  XII. 
On  the  Nature  of  the  Sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost. 

"  Wherefore  I  say  unto  you,  All  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy  shall  be  forgiven  unto  men  :  but  the  blas- 
phemy against  the  Holy  Ghost  shall  not  be  forgiven  unto  men.  And  whosoever  speaketh  a  word  against 
the  Son  of  man,,  it  shall  be  forgiven  him:  but  whosoever  speaketh  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  it  shall  not  be 
forgiven  him,  neither  in  this  world,  neither  in  the  world  to  come." — Matthew  xii.  31,  32. 


Let  us  never  suspend  the  practical  in- 
fluence of  what  we  do  know,  by  idly  ram- 
bling in  a  vain  and  impertinent  pursuit  after 
what  we  do  not  know.  Thus  much  we 
know  from  the  Bible,  that  God  refuses  not 
his  Holy  Spirit  to  them  who  ask  it — that 
every  right  movement  of  principle  within 
us  is  from  him — that  when  we  feel  an  im- 
pulse of  conscience,  we  feel  the  Spirit  of 
God  knocking  at  the  door  of  our  hearts,  and 
challenging  from  us  that  attention  and  that 
obedience  which  are  due  to  the  great  Law- 
giver— that  if  we  follow  not  the  impulse, 
we  provoke  and  dissatisfy  him  who  is  the 
Author  of  it — and  that  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  tempting  him  to  abandon  us  altogether, 
and  to  surrender  the  friendly  office  of  plyiug 
us  any  longer  with  his  admonitions  and  his 
warnings.  Hence,  an  emphatic  argument 
for  immediate  repentance.  By  every  mo- 
ment of  delay,  we  hasten  upon  ourselves 
the  awful  crisis  of  being  let  alone.  The  con- 
science is  every  day  getting  harder;  and  he 
who  sits  behind,  and  is  the  unseen  Author 
of  all  its  instigations,  is  lifting  every  day  a 


feebler  voice;  and  coming  always  nearer 
and  nearer  to  that  point  in  the  history  of 
every  determined  sinner,  when,  left  to  his 
own  infatuation,  he  can  hold  up  a  stubborn 
and  unyielding  front  to  all  that  instrumen- 
tality of  advice  and  of  expostulation  which 
is  brought  to  bear  upon  him.  The  preacher 
plies  him  with  his  weekly  voice,  but  the 
Spirit  refuses  to  lend  it  his  constraining 
energy;  and  all  that  is  tender,  and  all  that 
is  terrifying  in  his  Sabbath  argument  plays 
around  his  heart,  without  reaching  it.  The 
judgments  of  God  go  abroad  against  him, 
and  as  he  carries  his  friends  or  his  children 
to  the  grave,  a  few  natural  tears  may  bear 
witness  to  the  tenderness  he  bore  them — 
but  that  Spirit  who  gives  to  these  judgments 
all  their  moral  significancy,  withholds  from 
him  the  anointing  which  remaineth,  and  the 
man  relapses  as  before  into  all  the  obstinate 
habits,  and  all  the  uncrucified  affections 
which  he  has  hitherto  indulged  in.  The  dis- 
ease gathers  upon  him,  and  gets  a  more 
rooted  inveteracy  than  ever;  and  thus  it  is, 
that  there  are  thousands  and  thousands 


XII.] 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 


333 


i) une,  who,  though  active  and  astir  on  that 
living  scene  of  population  which  is  around 
us,  have  an  iron  hardness  upon  their  souls, 
which  makes  them,  in  reference  to  the  things 
of  God,  dark  and  sullen  as  the  grave,  and 
fast  locks  them  in  all  the  insensibility  of 
spiritual  death.  Is  there  no  old  man  of  your 
acquaintance,  who  realizes  this  sad  picture 
of  one  left  to  himself  that  we  have  now  at- 
tempted so  rapidly  to  set  before  you?  Then 
know,  that  by  every  deed  of  wilful  sin,  that 
by  every  moment  of  wilful  delay  in  the 
great  matter  of  repentance,  that  by  every 
stifled  warning  of  conscience,  that  by  every 
deafening  of  its  authoritative  voice  among 
the  temptations  of  the  world,  and  the  riot 
of  lawless  acquaintances,  you  are  just  mov- 
ing yourself  to  the  limits  of  this  helpless  and 
irrecoverable  condition.  We  have  no  doubt, 
that  you  may  have  the  intention  of  making 
a  violent  step,  and  suddenly  turning  round 
to  the  right  path  ere  you  die.  But  this  you 
will  not  do  but  by  an  act  of  obedience  to 
the  reproaches  of  a  conscience  that  is  ever 
getting  harder.  This  you  will  not  do  with- 
out the  constraining  influence  of  that  Spirit, 
who  is  gradually  dying  away  from  you. 
This  you  will  not  do  but  in  virtue  of  some 
overpowering  persuasion  from  that  monitor 
who  is  now  stirring  within  you,  but  with 
whom  you  are  now  taking  the  most  effectual 
method  of  drowning  his  voice,  and  disarm- 
ing him  of  all  his  authority.  Do  not  you 
perceive,  that  in  these  circumstances,  every 
act  of  delay  is  madness — that  you  are  getting 
by  every  hour  of  it  into  deeper  water — that 
you  are  consolidating  a  barrier  against  your 
future  return  to  the  paths  of  righteousness, 
which  you  vainly  think  you  will  be  able  to 
surmount  when  the  languor  and  infirmity 
of  old  age  have  got  hold  of  you — that  you 
are  strengthening  and  multiplying  around 
you  the  wiles  of  an  entanglement,  which 
all  the  strugglings  of  deathbed  terror  cannot 
break  asunder — that  you  are  insulting  the 
Spirit  of  God  by  this  daily  habit  of  stifling 
and  neglecting  the  other  and  the  other  call 
that  he  is  sounding  to  your  moral  ear, 
through  the  organ  of  conscience.  And  O 
the  desperate  hazard  and  folly  of  such  a 
calculation!  Think  you,  think  you,  that 
this  is  the  way  of  gaining  his  friendly  pre- 
sence at  that  awful  moment,  when  the 
urgent  sense  of  guilt  and  of  danger  forces 
from  the  sinner  an  imploring  cry  as  he 
stands  on  the  brink  of  eternity? 

"  How  long,  ye  simple  ones,  will  ye  love 
simplicity,  anil  the  scorners  delight  in  their 
scorning,  and  fools  hate  knowledge  ?  Turn 
ye  at  my  reproof.  Behold  I  will  pour  out 
my  spirit  unto  you ;  I  will  make  known  my 
words  unto  you.  Because  I  have  called, 
and  ye  refused ;  I  have  stretched  out  my 
hand,  and  no  man  regarded ;  but  ye  have 
set  at  nought  all  my  counsel,  and  would 
none  of  my  reproof:  I  also  will  laugh  at 


your  calamity ;  I  will  mock  when  your  fear 
cometh.  When  your  fear  cometh  as  deso 
lation,  and  your  destruction  cometh  as  a 
whirlwind ;  when  distress  and  anguish 
cometh  upon  you :  then  shall  they  call 
upon  me,  but  I  will  not  answer ;  they  shall 
seek  me  early,  but  they  shall  not  find  me." 
You  see,  then,  how  a  man  may  shut 
against  himself  all  the  avenues  of  reconci- 
liation. There  is  nothing  mysterious  in  the 
kind  of  sin  by  which  the  Holy  Spirit  is 
tempted  to  abandon  him  to  that  state  in 
which  there  can  be  no  forgiveness,  and  no 
return  unto  God.  It  is  by  a  movement  of 
conscience  within  him,  that  the  man  is  made 
sensible  of  sin — that  he  is  visited  with  the 
desire  of  reformation — that  he  is  given  to 
feel  his  need  both  of  mercy  to  pardon,  and 
of  grace  to  help  him — in  a  word,  that  he  is 
drawn  unto  the  Saviour,  and  brought  into 
that  intimate  alliance  with  him  by  faith, 
which  brings  down  upon  him  both  accep- 
tance with  the  Father,  and  all  the  power  of 
a  new  and  a  constraining  impulse,  to  the 
way  of  obedience.  But  this  movement  is  a 
suggestion  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  if  it  be 
resisted  by  any  man,  the  Spirit  is  resisted. 
The  God  who  offers  to  draw  him  unto 
Christ,  is  resisted.  The  man  refuses  to  be- 
lieve, because  his  deeds  are  evil;  and  by 
every  day  of  perseverance  in  these  deeds, 
the  voice  which  tells  him  of  their  guilt,  and 
urges  him  to  abandon  them,  is  resisted; 
and  thus,  the  Spirit  ceases  to  suggest,  and 
the  Father,  from  whom  the  Spirit  proceed- 
ed, ceases  to  draw,  and  the  inward  voice 
ceases  to  remonstrate ;  and  all  this  because 
their  authority  has  been  so  often  put  forth, 
and  so  often  turned  from.  This  is  the  deadly 
offence  which  has  reared  an  impassable  wall 
against  the  return  of  the  obstinately  impeni- 
tent. This  is  the  blasphemy  to  which  no 
forgiveness  can  be  granted,  because  in  its 
very  nature,  the  man  who  has  come  this 
length,  feels  no  movement  of  conscience 
towards  that  ground  on  which  alone  for 
giveness  can  be  awarded  to  him — and  where 
it  is  never  refused  even  to  the  very  worst 
and  most  malignant  of  human  iniquities. 
This  is  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost.  It 
is  not  peculiar  to  any  one  age.  It  does  not 
lie  in  any  one  unfathomable  mystery.  It 
may  be  seen  at  this  day  in  thousands  and 
thousands  more,  who,  by  that  most  familiar 
and  most  frequently  exemplified  of  all  ha- 
bits, a  habit  of  resistance  to  a  sense  of  duty, 
have  at  length  stifled  it  altogether,  and  dri- 
ven their  inward  monitor  away  from  them, 
and  have  sunk  into  a  profound  moral  lethar- 
gy, and  so  will  never  obtain  forgiveness — 
not  because  forgiveness  is  ever  refuse*]  to 
any  who  repent  and  believe  the  Gospel,  but 
because  they  have  made  their  faith  and  their 
repentance  impracticable.  They  choose  not 
to  repent  ;*and  this  choice  has  becn^made 
so  often  and  so  perseveringly,  that  the  Spirit 


334 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 


[SERM. 


has  let  them  alone.  They  have  obstinately 
clung  to  their  love  of  darkness  rather  than 
of  light,  and  the  Spirit  has  at  length  turned 
away  from  them  since  they  will  have  it  so. 
They  wish  not  to  believe,  because  their 
deeds  are  evil,  and  that  Spirit  has  ceased  to 
strive  with  them,  who  has  so  often  spoken 
to  them  in  vain ;  and  whose  many  remon- 
strances have  never  prevailed  upon  them  to 
abandon  the  evil  of  their  doings. 

Take  all  this  attentively  along  with  you, 
and  the  whole  mysteriousness  of  this  sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost  should  be  done 
away.  Grant  him  the  office  with  which  he 
is  invested  in  the  Word  of  God,  even  the 
office  of  instigating  the  conscience  to  all  its 
reprovals  of  sin,  and  to  all  its  admonitions 
of  repentance — and  then,  if  ever  you  wit- 
nessed the  case  of  a  man  whose  conscience 
had  fallen  into  a  profound  and  irrecoverable 
sleep,  or,  at  least,  had  lost  to  such  a  degree 
its  power  of  control  over  him,  that  he  stood 
out  against  every  engine  which  was  set  up 
to  bring  him  to  the  faith  and  the  repentance 
of  the  New  Testament — behold  in  such  a 
man  a  sinner  against  conscience  to  such  a 
woful  extent,  that  conscience  had  given  up 
its  direction  of  him ;  or,  in  other  words,  a 
sinner  against  the  Holy  Ghost  to  such  an 
extent,  that  he  had  let  down  the  office  of 
warning  him  away  from  that  ground  of 
danger  and  of  guilt  on  which  he  stood  so 
immovably  posted ;  or,  of  urging  him  on- 
ward to  that  sure  road  of  access,  where  if  a 
man  seek  for  pardon,  he  will  never  miss  it, 
and  where,  if  he  cry  for  the  clean  heart  and 
the  right  spirit,  he  will  not  cry  in  vain. 

And  as  there  is  nothing  dark  or  incom- 
prehensible in  the  nature  of  this  sin,  so  there 
is  nothing  in  it  to  impair  the  freeness  of  the 
Gospel,  or  the  universality  of  its  calls  and 
of  its  offers,  or  its  power  of  salvation  to  all 
who  will,  or  that  attribute  which  is  expressly 
ascribed  to  it,  that  where  sin  abounded,  grace 
did  much  more  abound.  It  is  never  said 
that  pardon  through  that  blood,  which  is 
distinctly  stated  to  cleanse  from  all  sin — it  is 
nowhere  said,  that  this  pardon  is  extended 
to  any  but  to  those  who  believe.  If  you  do 
not  believe,  you  do  not  get  pardon — and  if 
you  will  not  believe,  because  you  love  dark- 
ness rather  than  light — if  you  will  not  be- 
lieve, because  you  will  not  abandon  those 
evil  deeds  which  the  Spirit  tells  you  through 
the  conscience,  that  you  must  forsake  in 
coming  unto  Christ — if  his  repeated  calls 
have  been  so  unheeded  and  so  withstood  by 
you,  that  he  has  at  length  ceased  from  striv- 
ing, then  the  reason  why  your  sin  is  unpar- 
donable, is  just  because  you  have  refused 
the  Gospel  salvation.  The  reason  why  your 
case  is  irrecoverable,  is  just  because  you 
have  refused  the  method  of  recovery  so 
long,  and  so  often,  that  every  call  of  repen- 
tance has  now  come  to  play  upon  you  in 
vain.    The  reason  why  you  lie  under  a 


guilt  that  can  meet  with  no  forgiveness,  is 
not  that  one  or  all  of  your  sins  are  of  a  die 
so  deep  and  so  inveterate,  that  the  cleansing 
power  of  the  Saviour's  atonement  cannot 
overmatch  them.  Let  the  invitation  to  the 
fountain  that  is  opened  in  the  house  of  Ju- 
dah,  circulate  among  you  as  freely  as  the 
preacher's  voice ;  for  sure  we  are,  that  there 
does  not  stand,  at  this  moment,  within  the 
reach  of  hearing  us,  any  desperado  in  vice, 
so  sunk  in  the  depths  of  his  dark  and  un- 
natural rebellion,  that  he  is  not  welcome  if 
he  will.  But,  if  ye  will  not  come  that  ye 
may  have  life,  this  is  your  sin. 

This  is  the  barrier  in  the  way  of  your  for- 
giveness. Grant  us  repentance  and  faith, 
and  we  know  not  of  a  single  mysterious 
crime  in  the  whole  catalogue  of  human  de- 
pravity, that  the  atoning  blood  of  our  Sa- 
viour cannot  wash  away.  But  withhold 
from  us  repentance  and  faith — let  us  see  the 
man  who  stands  unrebuked  out  of  his  wick- 
edness by  all  that  conscience  has  reproached 
him  with — unmoved  out  of  the  hardness  of 
his  unbelief  by  all  that  power  of  tenderness, 
which  should  have  softened  his  unrelenting 
bosom,  when  told  of  the  Saviour  who  had 
poured  out  his  soul  unto  the  death  for  him 
— if  all  this  contempt  and  resistance  of  his 
has  been  so  long  and  so  grievously  persisted 
in,  that  the  Spirit  has  ceased  to  strive — then, 
it  is  not  the  power  of  the  Gospel  that  is  in 
fault,  but  the  obstinacy  of  him  who  has  re- 
jected it.  The  sufficiency  of  the  Gospel  is 
not  detracted  from  by  so  much  as  a  jot  or  a 
tittle.  To  this  very  hour  may  we  proclaim 
it  as  the  savour  of  life  unto  life,  to  the  very 
worst  of  sinners  who  receive  t.  But  if  he 
so  turn  aside  from  its  invitations,  and  the 
habit  be  so  fixed  with  him,  and  conscience 
get  into  a  state  of  such  immovable  dorman- 
cy, that  the  Spirit  gives  him  over,  it  is  not 
that  the  Gospel  does  not  carry  a  remedy 
along  with  it  for  one  and  all  of  his  offences, 
but  because  he  refuses  that  Gospel,  that  it 
is  to  him  the  savour  of  death  unto  death. 

A  king  publishes  a  wide  and  unexpected 
amnesty  to  the  people  of  a  rebellious  dis- 
trict in  his  empire,  upon  the  bare  act  of 
each  presenting  himself  within  a  limited 
period,  before  an  authorized  agent,  and  pro- 
fessing his  purposes  of  future  loyalty.  Does 
it  at  all  detract  from  the  clemency  of  this 
deed  of  grace,  that  many  of  the  rebels  feel 
a  strong  reluctance  to  this  personal  exhibi- 
tion of  themselves;  and  that  the  reluctance 
strengthens  and  accumulates  upon  them  by 
every  day  of  their  postponement ;  and  that 
even  before  the  season  of  mercy  has  expired, 
it  has  risen  to  such  a  degree  of  aversion  on 
their  part,  as  to  form  a  moral  barrier  in  the 
way  of  their  prescribed  return,  that  is  alto- 
gether impassable  ?  Will  you  say,  because 
there  is  no  forgiveness  to  them,  that  there 
ig  any  want  of  amplitude  in  that  charter  of 
forgiveness  which  is  proclaimed  in  the  hear- 


XII.] 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 


335 


iiiLT  of  all ;  or,  that  pardon  has  not  been  pro- 
vided for  every  offence,  because  some  of- 
fenders are  to  be  found,  with  such  a  degree 
of  perverseness  and  of  obstinacy  in  their 
bosom,  as  constrains  them  to  a  determined 
refusal  of  all  pardon  ? 

The  blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  from  all 
sin ;  and  there  is  not  a  human  creature,  who, 
let  him  repent  and  believe,  will  ever  find 
the  crimson  inveteracy  of  his  manifold  of- 
fences to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  its  purify- 
ing and  its  peace-speaking  power.  And 
tell  us  if  it  detract  by  a  S'ngle  iota  from  the 
omnipotence  of  this  great  Gospel  remedy, 
thai  there  are  many  sinners  in  the  world 
who  refuse  to  lay  hold  of  it.  To  the  hour 
of  death  it  is  within  the  reach  of  all  and  of 
any  who  will.  This  is  the  period  in  the 
history  of  each  individual,  at  which  this 
great  act  of  amnesty  expires,  and  to  the  last 
minute  of  his  life,  it  is  competent  for  me 
and  for  every  minister  of  the  Gospel  to  urge 
it  upon  him,  in  all  the  largeness  and  in  all 
the  universality  which  belong  to  it — and  to 
assure  him,  that  there  is  not  a  single  deed 
of  wickedness  with  which  his  faithful  me- 
mory now  agonizes  him,  not  one  habit  of 
disobedience  that  now  clothes  his  retrospect 
of  the  past  in  the  sad  colouring  of  despair, 
all  the  guilt  of  which,  and  all  the  condemna- 
tion of  which,  the  blood  of  the  offered  Sa- 
viour cannot  do  away.  But,  though  we  may 
offer,  that  is  not  to  say  that  he  will  accept. 
Though  we  may  proclaim,  and  urge  the 
proclamation  in  his  hearing,  with  every 
tone  of  truth  and  of  tenderness,  that  is  not 
to  say,  that  our  voice  will  enter  with  power, 
or  make  its  resistless  way  through  those 
avenues  of  his  heart,  where  he  has  done  so 
much  to  rear  a  defending  barrier,  that  may 
prove  to  be  impenetrable.  Though  there  be 
truth  in  our  every  announcement,  that  is 
not  to  say,  that  the  demonstration  of  the 
Spirit  will  accompany  it — even  that  Spirit 
who  long  ere  now  may  have  left  to  himself 
the  man,  who,  his  whole  life  long,  has 
grieved  and  resisted  him.  It  is  still  true, 
that  the  pardon  lies  at  his  acceptance :  and 
it  may  be  as  true,  that  there  can  be  no  par- 
don to  him  because  he  has  brought  such  an 
inveterate  blindness  upon  his  soul,  that  he 
will  neither  receive  the  truth,  nor  love  it, 
nor  feel  those  genuine  impulses  by  which  it 
softens  the  heart  of  man  to  repentance.  And 
thus  it  is,  that  while  the  blood  of  Christ 
cleanseth  the  every  sin  of  every  believer, 
the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost  shall  not  be 
forgiven,  because  with  this  sin,  and  with  its 
consequences  upon  him,  man  wills  not,  and 
repents  not,  and  believes  not. 

And  now  for  the  interesting  question, — 
How  am  I  to  know  that  I  have  committed 
this  sin,  that  is  said  to  be  beyond  the  reach 
of  forgiveness?  We  are  sure  that  the  right 
solution  of  this  question,  if  well  understood, 
would  go  to  dissipate  all  that  melancholy 


which  has  been  felt  upon  the  subject,  by 
many  a  bewildered  inquirer.  You  cannot 
take  a  review  of  the  years  that  are  gone,  and 
fetch  up  this  mysterious  sin  to  your  remem- 
brance out  of  the  history  of  the  sins  that 
are  past.  There  is  not  one  of  them,  which, 
if  turned  away  from,  in  the  faith  of  that 
pardon  that  is  through  the  blood  of  the 
atonement — there  is  not  one  of  them  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  great  redemption  of  the 
Gospel.  The  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost  is 
not  some  awful  and  irrevocable  deed,  around 
which  a  disordered  fancy  has  thrown  its 
superstitious  array,  and  which  beams  in 
deeper  terror  upon  the  eye  of  the  mind, 
from  the  very  obscurity  by  which  it  is  en- 
compassed. There  ought  to  be  no  darkness 
and  no  mystery  about  it.  The  sin  against 
the  Holy  Ghost  is  such  a  daring  and  obsti- 
nate rebellion  against  the  prerogatives  of 
conscience — that  all  its  calls  to  penitency 
have  been  repelled — and  all  the  urgency  of 
its  admonitions  to  flee  to  the  offered  Saviour, 
has  been  withstood — and  all  this  obstinacy 
of  resistance  has  been  carried  forward  to 
such  a  point  in  the  history  of  the  unhappy 
man,  that  his  conscience  has  ceased  from 
the  exercise  of  its  functions ;  and  the  Holy 
Spirit  has  laid  down  his  office  of  prompting 
it ;  and  the  tenderness  of  a  beseeching  God 
may  be  sounded  in  his  ear — but  unaccom- 
panied as  it  is  by  that  power  which  makes 
a  willing  and  obedient  people,  it  reaches  not 
his  sullen  and  inflexible  heart.  And  instead, 
therefore,  of  looking  for  that  sin  among 
those  imaginary  few  who  mourn  and  are  in 
distress,  under  an  overwhelming  sense  of 
its  enormity,  I  look  for  it  to  those  thou- 
sands, who,  trenched  among  the  seculari- 
ties  of  the  world,  or  fully  set  on  the  mad 
career  of  profligacy,  are  posting  their  care- 
less and  infatuated  way — and  suffering  Sab- 
baths and  opportunities  to  pass  over  them — 
and  turn  with  contempt  from  the  foolishness 
of  preaching — and  hold  up  the  iron  front  of 
insensibility  against  all  that  is  appalling  in 
the  judgments  of  God — and  cling  to  this 
perishable  scene  under  the  most  touching 
experiences  of  its  vanity — and  walk  their 
unfaltering  path  amid  all  the  victims  which 
mortality  has  strewn  around  them — and 
every  year  drink  deeper  into  the  spirit  of 
the  world — till  the  moral  disease  rises  to 
such  an  inveteracy,  that  all  the  engines  of 
conversion,  unaided  as  they  are,  by  that 
peculiar  force  and  demonstration  which  is 
from  on  high,  fall  powerless  as  infancy  upon 
them,  and  every  soul  amongst  them,  sunk 
in  torpor  immovable,  will  never,  never  be 
made  to  know  the  power  and  the  life  of  a 
spiritual  resurrection. 

We  know  nothing  that  goes  farther  to 
nullify  the  Bible,  than  the  habit  of  subject- 
ing the  interpretation  of  its  passages  to  any 
other  principle,  than  that  all  its  parts  must 
consist  and  be  in  harmony  with  each  other 


33G 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 


[m 


There  lias  a  world  of  mischief  been  done 
by  the  modifications  that  have  been  laid  on 
the  obvious  meaning  of  Scripture,  with  the 
purpose  of  rendering  it  more  palatable  to 
our  independent  views  of  what  is  right,  and 
wise,  and  reasonable.  This,  in  fact,  is  de- 
posing the  word  of  God  from  that  primitive 
authority  which  belongs  to  it,  as  the  court 
of  highest  appeal — all  whose  decisions  are 
final  and  irreversible.  Grant  us  that  there  is 
no  contradiction  between  what  we  find  in 
the  book  of  God's  counsel,  and  what  we 
know  by  the  evidence  of  our  own  experi- 
ence, or  the  overbearing  testimony  of  others 
— and  such  we  hold  to  be  the  ignorance  of 
man  about  the  whole  of  that  spiritual  and 
unseen  world  which  lies  beyond  the  circle 
of  his  own  observation,  that  we  count  it  not 
merely  his  most  becoming  piety,  but  we 
count  it  also  his  soundest  and  most  en- 
lightened plglosophy,  to  sit  down  with  the 
docility  of  a  little  child  to  all  that  is  inti- 
mated and  made  known  to  him  by  a  well- 
attested  revelation.  After  the  deductions  we 
have  just  now  made,  we  know  of  no  other 
principle  on  which  we  should  ever  offer  to 
modify  a  verse  or  a  clause  of  the  written 
record ;  but  the  principle  of  that  entire  con- 
sistency which  must  reign  throughout  all 
its  communications.  We  know  of  no  other 
cross-examination  which  we  have  a  right  to 
set  up  on  this  witness  to  the  invisible  things 
of  faith — than  to  try  it  by  itself,  and  to  con- 
demn it,  if  possible,  out  of  its  own  mouth, 
by  confronting  together  its  own  depositions. 
We  are  only  at  freedom  to  sustain  or  to 
qualify  the  literal  sense  of  one  of  its  an- 
nouncements, by  the  literal  and  equally  au- 
thoritative sense  of  some  other  of  its  an- 
nouncements. And  such  >s  our  respect  for 
the  paramount  authority  of  Scripture,  that 
we  know  of  no  discovery  more  pleasing, 
than  that  by  which  the  apparent  inconsis- 
tency between  two  places,  is  so  cleared  up, 
that  all  necessity  for  encroaching  upon  the 
literal  sense  of  either  of  them  is  completely 
done  away — for  it  goes  to  establish  our 
every  impression  of  the  unviolable  sanc- 
tity of  its  various  communications,  and  to 
heighten  our  belief  that  every  semblance  of 
opposition  between  the  particulars  of  the 
divine  testimony,  exists  not  in  the  testimony 
itself,  but  in  the  misapprehension  of  our  own 
dark  and  imperfect  understandings. 

Now,  if  you  look  to  the  31st  verse  of  the 
12th  chapter  of  Matthew,  you  will  perceive, 
that  all  who  think  the  sin  against  the  Holy 
Ghost  to  lie  in  the  commission  of  some  rare 
and  monstrous,  but  at  the  same  time  spe- 
cific iniquity,  cannot  admit  the  first  clause 
of  the  verse  without  qualifying  it  by  some 
of  the  undeniable  doctrines  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament. They  would  say,  it  is  not  true 
that  all  manner  of  sin  shall  be  forgiven  unto 
men,  with  the  exception  of  this  blasphemy 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  which  they  con- 


ceive to  occur  but  seldom  in  the  history  of 
human  wickedness.  They  would  say,  that 
there  is  forgiveness  to  no  sin  whatever  but 
on  the  faith  and  the  repentance  of  him  who 
has  incurred  it — and  we  must,  therefore, 
suppose  this,  and  qualify  the  clause  by  this 
indispensable  condition,  and  thus  make  the 
clause  to  tell  us,  how  such  is  the  power  of 
the  Gospel,  that  all  the  sin  and  blasphemy 
shall  be  forgiven  of  those  who  have  em- 
braced it — save  that  one  sin  against  the 
Holy  Ghost,  for  the  remission  of  which,  not 
even  their  acceptance  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ 
could  avail  them. 

Now,  the  explanation  we  have  given  of 
this  sin  renders  all  this  work  of  annexing 
terms  and  modifications  to  this  verse  of  the 
Bible  unnecessary,  and  gives,  we  think,  even 
to  its  literal  and  unrestricted  meaning,  a 
most  lucid  consistency  with  all  that  is  lead- 
ing and  that  is  undeniable  in  the  doctrine 
of  the  New  Testament.  If  the  sin  against 
the  Holy  Ghost- be  just  that  sin,  in  virtue  oi 
which  the  calls  and  offers  of  the  Gospel  are 
so  rejected,  as  to  be  finally  and  irreversibly 
put  away  from  us,  then  it  is  true,  it  is  abso- 
lutely and  unreservedly  true,  that  all  other 
manner  of  sin  shall  be  forgiven  but  this  one 
only.  All  who  so  reject  this  Gospel,  have 
sinned  against  the  Holy  Ghost — and  none 
who  accept  this  Gospel  have  incurred  this 
sin,  nor  shall  they  want  the  forgiveness  that 
is  there  provided  for  them.  It  is  quite  in 
vain  to  think,  that  the  sin  against  the  Holy 
Ghost  is  confined  to  that  period  of  the  world 
at  which  our  Saviour  made  his  personal  ap- 
pearance in  it.  The  truth  is,  that  it  is  since 
Christ  withdrew  from  the  world,  that  he 
now  carries  forward  by  the  Spirit,  as  his 
agent  and  substitute,  the  business  of  press- 
ing home  upon  men  the  acceptance  of  the 
Gospel,  by  Avorking  with  their  consciences. 
He  employs  the  Spirit  as  his  witness,  since 
he  himself  has  gone  away  from  us ;  and  as 
in  the  business  of  entertaining  the  calls  and 
the  offers  of  the  New  Testament,  our  doings 
are  more  exclusively  with  this  Spirit,  and 
not  at  all  with  the  Saviour  himself  personally, 
we  are  surely  as  much  in  the  way  of  now 
committing  the  sin  in  question,  as  in  those 
days  when  the  Holy  Ghost  was  not  so 
abundantly  given,  because  Jesus  Christ  was 
not  then  glorified.  All  those,  be  assured, 
who  refuse  the  Gospel  now,  do  so  because 
they  refuse  the  testimony  of  this  witness — 
do  so  because  they  stifle  within  them  the 
urgency  of  his  rebuke,  when  he  tells  them 
of  faith  and  of  repentance — do  so  when  he 
offers  to  convince  them  on  principles  that 
would  be  clear  to  themselves,  could  they 
only  be  so  far  arrested  by  the  imperious 
claims  of  God  and  of  eternity,  as  to  attend  to 
them — convince  them  that  they  are  indeed 
on  a  way  of  guilt  and  of  alienation,  which, 
if  not  turned  from,  through  the  revealed 
Mediator,  will  land  them  in  the  condemna- 


XII.] 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 


337 


tion  oJ  a  most  righteous  and  immitigable 
law.  And  thus,  in  the  day  of  reckoning,  will 
this  verse,  in  its  most  plain  and  obvious 
literality,  be  so  accomplished  on  the  hosts 
who  are  assembled  round  the  judgment- 
seat — that  all  who  are  free  from  this  sin 
shall  have  their  every  other  sin  forgiven, 
just  because  they  have  obeyed  the  Gospel 
in  embracing  the  overtures  of  forgiveness — 
and  that  all  who,  on  that  day,  shall  find  no 
escape,  and  no  forgiveness,  have  this  doom 
laid  upon  them,  just  because  each,  without 
exception,  lias  incurred  the  sin  to  which  no 
forgiveness  is  awarded,  by  the  very  act  of 
neglecting  the  great  salvation. 

The  sin,  then,  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  so 
far  from  conferring  any  rare  distinction  of 
wickedness  on  him  who  is  guilty  of  it,  is,  in 
fact,  the  sin  of  all  who,  living  under  the 
dispensation  of  the  Gospel,  have,  by  their 
rejection  of  it,  made  it  the  "  savour  of  death 
unto  death."  It  is  a  sin  which  can  be 
charged  upon  every  man  who  has  put  the 
overtures  of  forgiveness  away  from  him.  It 
is  a  sin  which  if,  on  the  great  day  of  ex- 
amination, you  are  found  to  be  free  from, 
will  argue  your  acceptance  of  the  Gospel, 
in  virtue  of  which  its  forgiveness  is  made 
sure  to  you.  And  it  is  a  sin,  which,  if  found 
on  that  day  to  adhere  to  you,  will  argue 
your  final  refusal  of  this  same  Gospel,  in 
virtue  of  which  your  forgiveness  is  impossi- 
ble— because  you  are  out  of  the  only  way 
given  under  heaven  whereby  men  can  be 
saved.  So  that  this  sin,  looked  upon  by 
many  as  the  sin  of  on"  particular  age,  or,  if 
possible  to  realize  it  in  the  present  dajr,  as 
only  to  be  met  with  in  a  few  solitary  in- 
stances of  enormous  and  unexpiable  trans- 
gression, is  the  very  sin  upon  which  may 
be  male  to  turn  the  condemnation  and 
the  ruin  of  the  existing  majority  of  our 
spec  i 

Before  we  are  done  with  this  subject, 
there  i>  one  question  that  remains  to  be 
disposed  of.  Does  it  appear,  from  the  his- 
torical circumstances  of  the  case,  that  that 
conduct  of  the:  Pharisees  which  called  forth 
from  our  Saviour  the  denunciation  of  the 
text,  hears  a  resemblance  to  the  account  we 
have  given  of  the  sin  against  the  Holy 
Ghost,  as  exemplified  by  the  men  of  the 
present  generation?  In  their  rejecting  of 
Christ,  was  there  a  determined  rebellion  of 
purpose  against  the  light  of  their  own  con- 
science ?  Was  there  a  wilful  and  resolved 
suppression  of  the  force  of  evidence?  Was 
there  a  habitual  stifling  within  them  of  the 
movement  and  the  impulse  of  moral  princi- 
ple? Was  there  a  firm  and  deliberate  post- 
ing of  themselves  on  the  ground  of  opposi- 
tion, in  the  whole  of  their  past  resistance  to 
this  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ?  Was  there  an  ob- 
stinate keeping  of  this  ground  ?  Was  there 
an  audacious  and  desperate  intent  of  holding 
out  against  all  that  could  be  offered  in  the 
43 


shape  of  proofs  or  of  remonstrances  on  the 
side  of  Christianity  ?  Was  there  a  volun- 
tary darkening,  on  their  part,  of  the  light 
of  truth  when  it  began  to  dawn  upon  their 
souls,  and  threatened  to  carry  their  convic- 
tions away  from  them  ?  Was  there  a  habit 
of  fetching  up,  at  all  hazards,  every  argu- 
ment, however  false  and  however  blas- 
phemous it  may  be,  on  which  they  might 
rest  the  measures  of  a  proud  and  interested 
party,  and  thus  might  give  the  shape  and 
the  colour  of  plausibility  to  that  systematic 
opposition  they  had  entered  on? 

It  strikes  us,  that  the  whole  history  of 
the  Pharisees  in  the  New  Testament,  holds 
them  out  in  the  very  attitude  of  mind  which 
we  have  now  described  to  you.  And  think 
you  not  that  in  the  work  of  maintaining 
this  attitude  against  the  warfare  of  all  that 
moral  and  miraculous  argument  which  was 
brought  to  bear  upon  them,  they  never 
smothered  the  instigations  of  conscience, 
and  through  it  rebelled  against  that  Spirit, 
who  conveyed,  by  this  organ  of  the  inner 
man,  the  whispers  of  his  still  but  impres- 
sive voice?  "Which  of  you  convinceth  me 
of  sin,"  says  the  Saviour,  "  and  if  I  tell  you 
the  truth,  why  do  you  not  believe  me  ?"  Did 
conscience  never  tell  them  how  impossible 
it  was  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  could  lie  ? 
Did  not  the  words  of  him  who  spake  as 
never  man  spake,  bear  upon  them  the  im- 
press of  truth  as  well  as  of  dignity?  Is 
there  not  such  a  thing  as  the  suspicious  as- 
pect of  an  impostor,  and  is  there  not  also 
such  a  thing  as  the  open,  the  declared,  the 
ingenuous,  and  altogether  overbearing  as- 
pect of  integrity — and  is  it  not  conceivable, 
how,  in  this  way,  the  words  of  the  Saviour 
might  have  carried  such  a  moral  evidence 
along  with  them,  as  to  stamp  an  unques- 
1  ionable  character  on  all  his  attestations  ? 
Now,  was  there  no  resisting  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  in  the  act  of  shutting  the  eye  of  the 
judgment  against  the  whole  weight  and  au- 
thority of  this  character  ?  In  the  person  of 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  men  of  that  day  were 
honoured  with  the  singular  privilege  of  be- 
holding God  manifest  in  the  flesh — of  seeing 
all  the  graces  of  the  Holy  Spirit  substan- 
tiated, without  one  taint  of  imperfection,  on 
the  life  and  character  of  one  who  wore  the 
form  of  the  species — of  witnessing,  if  we 
may  so  express  ourselves,  a  sensible  exhi- 
bition of  the  Godhead — of  hearing  the  truth 
of  Grtid  fall  in  human  utterance  upon  their 
ears,  with  a  tone  of  inimitable  candour — of 
seeing  the  earnest  longing  of  God  after  the 
creatures  he  had  formed,  stamped  in  living 
and  undeniable  traces  upon  a  human  coun- 
tenance— of  beholding  the  tenderness  of 
God  expressed  in  human  tears,  by  him  who 
wept  over  the  sins  and  the  sufferings  of 
mankind — and  all  the  goodness  of  Deity 
distinctly  announcing  itself  in  the  mild  and 
impressive  sympathies  of  a  human  voice. 


338 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST 


[SERM. 


Think  you  not  that  there  was  no  struggling 
with  their  own  consciences,  and  no  wilful 
blinding  of  their  own  hearts,  on  the  part  of 
those  by  whom  such  an  exhibition  was  re- 
sisted '?  Surely,  surely,  the  Spirit  of  God 
did  much  to  subdue  their  acquiescence  in 
the  alone  way  of  salvation — when  all  his 
fruits  and  all  his  accomplishments  were 
gathered  upon  the  person  of  the  Redeemer 
into  one  visible  assemblage — when  the 
whole  force  of  this  moral  ascendency  was 
made  so  nearly  and  so  repeatedly  to  bear 
upon  them — when  truth,  with  all  its  plead- 
ing energy,  assailed  them — and  gentleness 
tried  to  win  them  over  to  the  cause  of  their 
own  eternity — and  the  soft  eye  of  compas- 
sion beamed  upon  them — and  the  unwearied 
forbearance,  which  no  weight  of  personal 
injustice  could  overcome,  told  them  how, 
for  their  sakes,  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  ready 
to  do  all  and  to  suffer  all — and  patience,  even 
unto  martyrdom,  left  a  meek,  but  a  firm  testi- 
mony behind  it.  O  !  think  you  not,  that  in 
the  perverse  representations,  and  the  spite- 
ful malignity,  and  the  sullen  immoveable 
hardness,  by  which  all  this  was  withstood 
and  overborne,  there  was  such  an  outrage 
upon  the  authority  of  conscience,  and  such 
a  dark  and  determined  principle  of  rebellion 
against  him  who  prompts  it  with  all  its  in- 
stigations, as  by  provoking  him  to  cast  them 
off  from  all  his  further  communications, 
might  raise  an  eternal  barrier  against  that 
faith,  and  that  repentance,  and  that  obedi- 
ence to  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  through  which 
alone  forgiveness  is  extended  to  a  guilty 
world. 

To  aggravate  still  further  this  resistance 
to  the  moral  claims  of  the  Saviour,  on  the 
part  of  his  inflexible  enemies,  let  us  see  how 
these  very  claims  told  on  the  consciences 
of  other  men.  The  officers  whom  they  sent 
to  apprehend  him,  when  they  went,  faltered 
from  the  purpose,  at  what  they  saw  and 
heard — and  when  they  returned  with  their 
errand  unfulfilled,  and  the  answer  in  their 
mouth,  that  "  surely  never  man  spake  like 
this  man,"  they  found  the  masters  they  had 
to  deal  with  were  made  of  sterner  mate- 
rials— men  who  knew  not  what  it  was  to 
falter--men  who  reproached  them  for  their 
moral  sensibility — and  who  had  sternly 
resolved,  at  all  hazards,  and  in  defiance  to 
all  principle,  to  rid  themselves  of  this  dan- 
gerous pretender.  Again,  when  they  insti- 
gated Pilate  to  a  capital  sentence  against 
him,  the  Roman  governor  was  shaken  by 
all  that  he  observed  of  this  innocent  victim 
— but  look  all  the  while  at  the  unrelenting 
constancy  with  which  they  kept  by  their 
purpose  ;  and  in  the  barbarous  prosecution 
of  it  schooled  the  governor  out  of  his  diffi- 
culties ;  and  raised  the  phrenzy  of  the  popu- 
lace ;  and  surrounded  the  best  and  kindest 
of  the  species  with  the  scowl  of  a  brutal 
and  reviling  multitude.    And,  lastly,  when 


he  had  sealed  his  testimony  by  his  blood, 
mark  how  the  man  who  presided  over  the 
execution,  was  overpowered  into  the  ac- 
knowledgment, that  "Surely  this  was  the 
Son  of  God;"  and  how  they,  unsoftened 
and  unsubdued,  stood  fast  to  their  object— 
and  got  his  body  to  be  watched,  and  a  story 
to  be  devised,  and  a  falsehood  of  deliberate 
manufacture  to  be  thrown  afloat,  with  which 
they  might  stem  the  growing  faith  of  our 
Saviour's  resurrection.  Now,  in  this  differ- 
ence between  the  resolved  and  inflexible 
hatred  of  the  Jewish  persecutors  of  Christ, 
and  the  relentings  of  other  men,  do  you  see 
no  suppression  of  the  voice  of  conscience — 
no  resistance  to  that  light  of  principle  which 
sends  forth  an  occasional  gleam  over  the 
path  of  the  determinedly  reprobate,  do  you 
see  no  one  of  those  ingredients  which  give 
to  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost  all  the 
malignancy  that  belongs  to  it — or,  rather,  in 
this  hard  and  unmovable  hostility  against 
one  whose  challenge  to  convince  him  of 
sin,  they  dared  not  to  entertain  ;  against 
one,  of  whom  they  could  not  fail  to  perceive, 
that  he  was  the  mildest,  and  the  sincerest, 
and  ttie  most  unoffending,  and  the  most  un- 
wearied in  well-doing  of  all  the  characters 
that  had  met  their  observation,  do  you  not 
perceive  how  it  was  in  the  cause  of  their 
own  offended  pride,  and  their  own  threat- 
ened interest,  that  they  made  their  sys- 
tematic resistance  to  every  moral  argument, 
and  hurried  away  their  minds  from  every 
painful  remonstrance — and  that,  too,  in  the 
very  style  in  which  the  obstinately  impeni- 
tent of  the  day  do,  in  resistance  to  every 
demonstration  of  guilt,  and  to  every  warn- 
ing of  danger,  walk  in  the  counsel  of  their 
own  hearts,  and  in  the  sight  of  their  own 
eyes. 

It  is  very  true,  that  it  was  upon  an  out- 
ward act  of  speaking,  on  the  part  of  the 
Pharisees,  that  our  Saviour  uttered  this  re- 
markable denunciation.  But  remember 
what  he  says  himself  upon  this  subject — 
how  the  things  which  come  out  of  a  man 
are  evil,  because  they  are  the  products  of  a 
heart  wmich  is  evil.  Remember  what  is 
said  a  few  verses  before — how  our  Saviour, 
who  knew  what  was  in  man,  knew  the  • 
thoughts  of  those  Pharisees ;  and  it  is  upon 
his  knowledge  of  their  thoughts,  that  he 
ascribed  such  a  malignity,  and  laid  such  a 
weight  of  condemnation  on  the  Avords 
which  conveyed  them.  Remember  what 
is  said  a  few  verses  after,  where  the  fruit 
is  represented  as  bad,  just  because  the  tree 
is  bad — where  the  words  have  their  whole 
character  of  evil  imparted  to  them,  just  be- 
cause it  is  out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart 
that  the  mouth  speaketh,  and  out  of  the  evil 
humours  of  the  heart,  that  the  man  bring- 
eth  forth  evil  things.  And  surely,  when, 
after  our  Saviour  had  uttered  such  a  pecu- 
liar sentence  of  condemnation  on  the  sin 


Ml.] 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 


339 


against  the  Holy  Ghost,  he  expressly  con- 
nects the  words  of  the  mouth,  with  the  dis- 
position of  the  heart,  ere  he  tells  us  that  it 
was  by  our  words  we  shall  be  justified,  and 
by  our  words  we  shall  be  condemned — we 
ought  no  longer  to  do  what  we  are  sure  is 
done  by  many  in  their  obscure  imagina- 
tions upon  this  subject,  we  ought  not  to 
liken  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost  to  the 
spell  of  some  magical  incantation,  deriving 
the  whole  of  that  deadly  taint  which  be- 
longs to  it,  from  some  infernal  charm 
with  which  the  utterance  of  mere  language 
is  darkly  and  unaccountably  impregnated. 
But  knowing  that  every  denunciation  of 
our  great  Spiritual  Teacher,  had  some  clear 
and  unchangeable  principle  of  morality 
to  rest  upon — and  perceiving,  as  we  do, 
that  on  this  very  occasion  he  refers  us  to 
the  disposition  of  the  heart,  as  that  which 
gives  to  the  utterance  of  the  tongue  all  its 
malignity,  let  us,  when  reading  of  this  des- 
parate  guilt  of  the  Pharisees,  look  to  the 
spirit  and  moral  temper  of  the  Pharisees, 
and  if  possible,  gather  a  something  that 
may  carry  to  our  own  bosoms  a  salutary 
and  convincing  application. 

And  a  single  glance  at  the  circumstances 
may  be  enough  to  satisfy  us,  that  never,  in 
any  one  recorded  passage  of  their  history, 
did  they  evince  the  bent  of  so  inflexible  a 
determination  against  the  authority  of  con- 
science— never  such  a  wilful  'darkening  of 
their  own  hearts  against  the  light  and  the 
power  of  evidence,  as  in  the  passage  that  is 
now  before  us.  The  whole  weight  of  that 
moral  argument  on  which  we  have  already 
expatiated,  was  reinforced  by  a  miracle  so 
striking  and  so  palpable  in  its  effects,  that 
all  the  people  were  thrown  into  amazement. 
But  what  constituted  the  peculiarity  of  the 
miracle  was,  that  it  was  just  such  a  miracle 
as  the  Pharisees  themselves  had  been  ac- 
customed to  look  upon  with  veneration,  and 
had  viewed  as  an  example  of  successful 
hostility  against  the  empire  of  darkness. 
They  had  faith  in  these  possessions.  They 
counted  every  one  of  them  to  be  the  work 
of  Beelzebub,  and  the  casting  out  of  any  of 
them  as  a  direct  triumph  of  warfare  against 
the  prince  of  the  devils.  They  themselves, 
it  would  appear,  laid  claim  to  the  power 
of  dispossessing  these  demons,  and  we  have 
no  doubt  that  the  imagination  of  such  a 
power  residing  with  them  and  their  chil- 
dren, or  proselytes,  would  help  to  give 
them  that  prophetical  sanctity  in  the  eyes 
of  the  common  people,  which  they  so  much 
aspired  after. 

But  when  the  very  thing  on  which  they 
tried  to  strengthen  their  own  claims*  to  au- 
thority, was  done  by  that  man,  the  progress 
of  whose  authority,  among  his  countrymen, 
they  were  determined,  at  all  hazards,  to  ar- 
rest ;  they  went  round  the  whole  compass 
of  their  principles,  and  quashed  the  voice 


of  every  one  of  them,  rather  than  own  the 
hand  of  God,  or  submit  to  the  demonstra- 
tion of  his  power  in  the  miracle  before 
them.  It  was  indeed  a  desperate  fetch  that 
they  made  for  an  argument,  when  the  very 
work  in  which  they  gloried,  and  on  which 
they  founded  the  credit  of  their  own  order, 
was  so  maligned  and  misrepresented  by 
them.  They  had  ever  been  in  the  habit  of 
ascribing  the  possessions  of  that  age  to  the 
power  of  Beelzebub — and  now  to  give  a  co- 
lour to  their  hatred  to  Jesus  and  his  claims, 
they  suppose  the  hquse  of  Beelzebub  to 
be  divided  against  itself,  and  they  ascribe 
to  his  power  a  miracle,  the  doing  of  which 
went  to  dispossess  him  of  a  part  of  his  em- 
pire. They  pretended  that  their  sons  or 
their  proselytes  had  the  power  of  casting 
out  those  possessions,  and  never  failed  to 
ascribe  this  power  to  the  Spirit  and  the 
countenance  of  God — but  now  they  turned 
round  upon  the  matter,  and  by  rearing  the 
argument  against  the  Saviour  in  the  direct 
face  of  their  own  principle,  did  they  prove 
how  firmly  they  were  resolved  to  lay  hold 
of  any  thing,  rather  than  admit  the  claims 
of  one  who  was  so  offensive  to  them.  Thus 
did  they  give,  perhaps  at  this  moment,  a 
more  conspicuous  evidence  than  they  had 
ever  done  before,  how  every  proof  and 
every  remonstrance  would  all  be  wasted 
upon  them.  The  Spirit  of  God  had  gone 
his  uttermost  length  with  them,  and  on 
abandoning  them  for  ever,  he  left  behind 
him  their  blood  upon  their  own  head,  and 
the  misery  of  an  irrecoverable  condition, 
that  was  of  their  own  bringing  on.  He  had 
long  borne  with  them— and  it  will  be  seen 
in  the  day  of  reckoning,  when  all  myste- 
ries are  cleared  up,  how  great  the  patience, 
and  the  kindness,  and  the  unwearied  per- 
severance were  which  they  had  resisted. 
For  though  the  spirit  strives  long,  he  does 

Sot  strive  always ;  and  they  brought  on 
lis  crisis  in  their  history,  just  by  the  very 
steps  in  which  every  impenitent  man  brings 
it  on  in  the  present  day,  by  a  wilful  resist- 
ance to  the  light  of  their  own  understand- 
ing; by  a  resolute  suppression  of  the  voice 
of  their  own  conscience. 

But  we  must  bring  all  these  explanations 
to  a  close.  The  distinction  between  speak- 
ing against  the  Son  of  man,  and  speaking 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  may  be  illustrated 
by  what  he  says  of  the  difference  between 
bearing  witness  of  himself,  and  another 
bearing  witness  of  him.  If  he  had  had  no 
other  testimony  than  his  own  to  offer.  th(  y 
had  not  had  sin.  If  he  had  not  done  the 
works  before  them  which  none  other  man 
did,  and  which  no  mere  son  of  man  could, 
do,  they  had  not  had  sin.  If  he  had  no- 
thing to  show  on  which  to  sustain  the  cha- 
racter that  signalized  him  above  the  mere 
children  of  men,  their  resistance  could  have 
been  forgiven ;  but  he  had  shown  the  most 


340 


ON  THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  CHRISTIAN   KNOWLEDGE 


abundant- evidence  on  this  point — he  had 
just  performed  a  deed  which  their  every 
habit,  and  their  every  conception,  led  them  to 
ascribe  to  the  Spirit  and  the  power  of  God, 
and  he  had  brought  forward  what  to  their 
own  judgments  was  the  testimony  of  the 
Spirit,  and  they  resisted  it.  It  was  no 
longer  now  an  opposition  to  man,  and  a  rail- 
ing of  man,  and  a  contemptuous  negligence 
of  man  :  all  this  is  sinful ;  but  it  was  not 
that  which  blocked  up  the  way  against  the 
remission  of  sin  ;  it  was  when  they  reviled 
him  who  offered  to  lead  them  on  in  that 
way,  that  they  were  ever  strengthening  the 
barrier  which  lay  across  the  path  of  accept- 
ance. While  the  last  and  most  conclusive 
proof  that  would  be  given  of  Jesus  having 
indeed  the  seal  and  the  commission  of  the 
Spirit  upon  him,  was  not  yet  tried  and 
found  ineffectual ;  all  their  opposition  to 
him  still  partook  of  opposition  to  one  of 
whom  the  most  decisive  evidence  that  he 
was  any  thing  more  than  the  Son  of  man, 


was  still  in  reserve.  It  still  partook  of  op- 
position to  a  fellow-man.  But  when  that 
decisive  evidence  was  at  length  offered,  and 
the  Spirit  interposed  with  his  last  and 
greatest  attempt  to  vindicate  his  own  seal, 
and  to  authenticate  his  own  commission  on 
the  person  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ;  then  that 
which  was  before  the  speaking  evil  of  the 
Son  of  man  become  the  speaking  evil  of 
the  Son  of  God  ;  and  that,  aggravated  to 
the  uttermost  length  that  it  now  would  be 
permitted  to  go.  And  the  Pharisees,  by 
smothering  the  light  of  all  that  evidence 
which  the  Holy  Spirit  had  brought  forward, 
both  in  the  miracles  that  were  done,  and  in 
the  graces  of  that  sinless  example  which 
was  set  so  impressively  before  them,  had 
by  that  time  raised  in  their  hearts  such 
an  entrenchment  of  prejudice  against  the 
faith  of  the  Gospel,  and  so  discouraged  the 
Holy  Spirit  from  any  farther  attempt  to  scale 
and  to  surmount  it,  that  all  recovery  was 
hopeless,  and  all  forgiveness  was  impossible. 


SERMON  XIII. 


On  the  Advantages  of  Christian  Knowledge  to  the  Lower  Orders  of  Society. 

"  Better  is  a  poor  and  a  wise  child  than  an  old  and  foolish  king,  who  will  no  more  be  admonished." — 

Ecclesiastes  iv.  13. 


There  is  no  one  topic  on  which  the  Bi- 
ble, throughout  the  variety  of  its  separate 
compositions,  maintains  a  more  lucid  and 
entire  consistency  of  sentiment,  than  the 
superiority  of  moral  over  all  physical  and 
all  external  distinctions.  This  lesson  is 
frequently  urged  in  the  Old  Testament,  and 
as  frequently  reiterated  in  the  New.  There 
is  a  predominance  given  in  both  to  worth^U) 
and  to  wisdom,  and  to  principle,  which  ^ 
leads  us  to  understand,  that  within  the 
compass  of  human  attainment,  there  is  an 
object  placed  before  us  of  a  higher  and  more 
estimable  character  than  all  the  objects  of 
a  common-place  ambition — that  wherever 
there  is  mind,  there  stands  associated  with 
it  a  nobler  and  more  abiding  interest  than 
all  the  aggrandizements  which  wealth  or 
rank  can  bestow — that  within  the  limits  of 
the  moral  and  intellectual  department  of 
our  nature,  there  is  a  commodity  which 
money  cannot  purchase,  and  possesses  a 
more  sterling  excellence  than  all  which 
money  can  command.  This  preference  of 
man  viewed  in  his  essential  attributes,  to 
man  viewed  according  to  the  variable  ac- 
cessories by  which  he  is  surrounded — this 
preference  of  the  subject  to  all  its  outward 
and  contingent  modifications — this  prefer- 
ence of  man  viewed  as  the  possessor  of  a 


heart,  and  of  a  spirit,  and  of  capacities  for 
truth  and  for  righteousness,  to  man  signal- 
ized by  prosperity,  and  clothed  in  the  pomp 
and  in  the  circumstance  of  its  visible  glories 
— this  is  quite  akin  with  the  superiority 
which  the  Bible  every  where  ascribes  to  the 
soul  over  the  body,  and  to  eternity  over 
time,  and  to  the  Supreme  Author  of  Being 
ver  all  that  is  subordinate  and  created.  It 
'marks  a  discernment,  unclouded  by  all  those 
associations  which  are  so  current  and  have 
so  fatal  an  ascendency  in  our  world — the 
wisdom  of  a  purer  and  more  ethereal  re- 
gion than  the  one  we  occupy — the  unpol- 
luted clearness  of  a  light  shining  in  a  dark 
place,  which  announces  its  own  coming 
to  be  from  above,  and  gives  every  spiritual 
reader  of  the  Bible  to  perceive  the  beaming 
of  a  powerful  and  presiding  intelligence 
in  all  its  pages. 

One  very  animating  inference  to  be  drawn 
from  our  text,  is,  how  much  may  be  made 
of  humanity.  Did  a  king  come  to  take  up 
his  residence  among  you — did  he  shed  a 
grandeur  over  your  city  by  the  presence  of 
his  court,  and  give  the  impulse  of  his  ex- 
penditure to  the  trade  of  its  population — it 
were  not  easy  to  rate  the  value  and  the 
magnitude  which  such  an  event  would  have 
on  the  estimation  of  a  common  understand- 


XIII.] 


TO  THE  LOWER  ORDERS  OF  SOCIETY. 


341 


ing,  or  the  degree  of  personal  importance 
which  would  attach  to  him,  who  stood  a 
lofty  object  in  the  eye  of  admiring  towns- 
men. And  yet  it  is  possible,  out  of  the  raw 
and  ragged  materials  of  the  obscurest  lane, 
to  rear  an  individual  of  more  inherent 
worth,  than  him  who  thus  draws  the  gaze 
of  the  world  upon  his  person.  By  the  act 
of  training  in  wisdom's  ways  the  most  tat- 
tered and  neglected  boy  who  runs  upon  our 
pavements,  do  we  present  the  community 
with  that  which,  ;n  wisdom's  estimation,  is 
of  greater  price  than  this  gorgeous  inhabi- 
tant of  a  palace.  And  when  one  thinks 
how  such  a  process  may  be  multiplied 
among  the  crowded  families  that  are  around 
us — when  one  thinks  of  the  extent  and  the 
density  of  that  mine  of  moral  wealth,  which 
retires,  and  deepens,  and  accumulates,  be- 
hind each  front  of  the  street  along  which 
we  are  passing — when  one  tries  to  compute 
the  quantity  of  spirit  that  is  imbedded  in 
the  depth  and  the  frequency  of  these  hu- 
man habitations,  and  reflects  of  this  native 
ore,  that  more  than  the  worth  of  a  monarch 
may  be  stamped,  by  instruction,  on  each 
separate  portion  of  it — a  field  is  thus  opened 
for  the  patriotism  of  those  who  want  to  give 
an  augmented  value  to  the  produce  of  our 
land,  which  throws  into  insignificance  all 
the  enterprises  of  vulgar  speculation.  Com- 
merce may  flourish,  or  may  fail — and  amid 
the  ruin  of  her  many  fluctuations,  may  ele- 
vate a  few  of  the  more  fortunate  of  her  sons 
to  the  affluence  of  princes.  Thy  merchants 
may  be  princes,  and  thy  traffickers  be  the 
honouiable  of  the  earth. 

Hut  if  there  be  truth  in  our  text,  there 
may,  on  the  very  basis  of  human  society, 
and  by  a  silent  process  of  education,  mate- 
rials be  formed,  which  far  outweigh  in  cost 
and  true  dignity,  all  the  blazing  pinnacles 
that  glitter  upon  its  summit — and  it  is,  in- 
deed, a  cheering  thought  to  the  heart  of  a 
philanthropist,  that  near  him  lies  a  territory 
so  ample,  on  which  he  may  expatiate — 
where  for  all  his  pains,  and  all  his  sacrifices, 
he  is  sure  of  a  repayment  more  substantial, 
than  was  ever  wafted  by  richly  laden  flo- 
tilla to  our  shores — where  the  return  comes 
to  him,  not  in  that  which  superficially  decks 
the  man,  but  in  a  solid  increment  of  value 
fixed  and  perpetuated  on  the  man  himself — 
where  additions  to  the  worth  of  the  soul 
form  the  proceeds  of  his  productive  opera- 
tion— and  where,  when  he  reckons  up  the 
profits  of  his  enterprise,  he  finds  them  to 
consist  of  that,  which,  on  the  highest  of  all 
authorities,  he  is  assured  to  be  more  than 
meat,  of  that  which  is  greatly  more  than 
raiment. 

Even  without  looking  beyond  the  con- 
fines of  our  present  world,  the  virtue  of  hum- 
ble life  will  bear  to  be  advantageously  con- 
trasted with  all  the  pride  and  glory  of  an 
elevated  condition.     The  man  who,  though 


among  the  poorest  of  them  all,  has  a  wis- 
dom and  a  weight  of  character,  which 
makes  him  the  oracle  of  his  neighbourhood 
— the  man,  who,  vested  with  no  other  au- 
thority than  the  meek  authority  of  worth, 
carries  in  his  presence  a  power  to  shame 
and  to  overawe  the  profligacy  that  is  around 
him — the  venerable  father,  from  whose 
lowly  tenement  the  voice  of  psalms  is  heard 
to  ascend  with  the  offering  up  of  every 
evening  sacrifice — the  Christian  sage,  who, 
exercised  among  life's  severest  hardships, 
looks  calmly  onward  to  heaven,  and  trains 
the  footsteps  of  his  children  in  the  way  that 
leads  to  it — the  eldest  of  a  well-ordered 
family,  bearing- their  duteous  and  honoura- 
ble part  in  the  contest  with  its  difficulties 
and  its  trials — all  these  offer  to  our  notice 
such  elements  of  moral  respectability,  as  do 
exist  among  the  lowest  orders  of  human 
society,  and  elements,  too,  which  admit  of 
being  multiplied  far  beyond  the  reach  of 
any  present  calculation.  And  while  we 
hold  nothing  to  be  more  unscriptural  than 
the  spirit  of  a  factious  discontent  with  the 
rulers  of  our  land — while  we  feel  nothing 
to  be  more  untasteful  than  the  insolence  of 
a  vulgar  disdain  towards  men  of  rank,  or 
men  of  opulence — yet  should  the  king  upon 
the  throne  be  taught  to  understand,  that 
there  is  a  dignity  of  an  intrinsically  higher 
order  than  the  dignity  of  birth  or  power — 
a  dignity  which  may  be  seen  to  sit  with 
gracefulness  on  the  meanest  of  his  subjects 
— and  which  draws  from  the  heart  of  the 
beholder  a  truer  and  profounder  reverence. 
So  that,  were  it  for  nothing  more  than  to 
bless  and  adorn  our  present  state,  there  can- 
not be  an  attempt  of  greater  promise,  than 
that  of  extending  education  among  the 
throng  of  our  peasantry  ;  there  cannot  be 
a  likelier  way  of  filling  the  country  with 
beauteous  and  exalted  spectacles — there  can- 
not be  a  readier  method  of  pouring  a  glory 
over  the  face  ofour  land,  than  that  of  spread- 
ing the  wisdom  of  life,  and  the  wisdom  of 
principle,  throughout  the  people  who  live 
in  it— a  glory  differing  in  kind,  but  greatly 
higher  in  degree,  than  the  glories  of  com- 
mon prosperity.  Tt  is  well  that  the  pro- 
gress of  knowledge  is  now  looked  to  by 
politicians  without  alarm— that  the  igno- 
rance of  the  poor  is  no  longer  regarded  as 
more  essential  to  the  devotion  of  their  pa- 
triotism, than  it  is  to  the  devotion  of  their 
piety— that  they  have,  at  length,  found  that 
the  best  way  of  disarming  the  lower  orders 
of  all  that  is  threatening  and  tumultuous, 
is  not  to  enthral,  but  to  enlighten  them; 
that  the  progress  of  truth  among  them,  in 
stead  of  being  viewed  with  dismay,  is 
viewed  with  high  anticipation — and  an  im- 
pression greatly  more  just,  and  greatly  more 
generous,  is  now  beginning  to  prevail,  that 
the  strongest  rampart  which  can  possibly 
be  thrown  around  the  cause  of  public  tran- 


342 


ON  THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  CHRISTIAN  KNOWLEDGE 


[SERM. 


quillity,  consists  of  a  people  raised  by  in- 
formation, and  graced  by  all  moral  and  all 
Christian  accomplishments. 

For  our  own  part,  we  trust,  that  the 
mighty  interval  of  separation  between  the 
higher  and  lower  orders  of  our  community, 
will,  at  length,  be  broken  down,  not  by  any 
inroad  of  popular  violence;  not  by  the 
fierce  and  devouring  sweep  of  any  revolu- 
tionary tempest ;  not  even  by  any  new  ad- 
justment, either  of  the  limits  of  power,  or 
the  limits  of  property ;  not,  in  short,  as  the 
result  of  any  battle,  fought  either  on  the 
arena  of  war,  or  on  the  arena  of  politics ; 
but  as  the  fruit  of  that  gradual  equalization 
in  mind  and  in  manners,  to  which  even 
now  a  sensible  approach  is  already  making 
on  the  part  of  our  artisans  and  our  labour- 
ers. They  are  drawing  towards  an  equality, 
and  on  that  field,  too,  in  which  equality  is 
greatly  most  honourable.  And  we  fondly 
hope,  that  the  time  is  coming,  when,  in 
frank  and  frequent  intercourse,  we  shall 
behold  the  ready  exchange  of  confidence 
on  the  one  side,  and  affection  on  the  other 
— when  the  rich  and  the  poor  shall  love 
each  other  more,  just  because  they  know 
each  other  more — when  each  party  shall 
recognise  the  other  to  be  vastly  worthier 
of  regard  and  of  reverence  than  is  now  ap- 
prehended— when  united  by  the  sympathies 
of  a  common  hope,  and  a  common  nature, 
and  on  a  perfect  level  with  all  that  is  essen- 
tial and  characteristic  of  humanity,  they 
shall,  at  length,  learn  to  live  in  love  and 
peacefuiness  together,  as  the  expectants  of 
one  common  heaven — as  the  members  of 
one  common  and  rejoicing  family. 

But,  to  attain  a  just  estimate  of  the  supe- 
riority of  the  poor  man  who  has  wisdom, 
over  the  rich  man  who  has  it  not,  we  must 
enter  into  the  calculation  of  eternity — we 
must  look  to  wisdom  in  its  true  essence,  as 
consisting  of  religion,  as  having  the  fear  of 
God  for  its  beginning,  and  the  rule  of  God 
for  its  way,  and  the  favour  of  God  for  its 
full  and  satisfying  termination — we  must 
compute  how  speedily  it  is,  that,  on  the 
wings  of  time,  the  season  of  every  paltry 
distinction  between  them  must,  at  length, 
pass  away  ;  how  soon  death  will  strip  the 
one  of  his  rags,  and  the  other  of  his  pa- 
geantry, and  send  them,  in  utter  nakedness, 
to  the  dust ;  how  soon  judgment  will  sum- 
mon them  from  their  graves,  and  place 
them  in  outward  equality  before  the  great 
disposer  of  their  future  lot,  and  their  future 
place,  through  ages  which  never  end;  how, 
in  that  situation,  the  accidental  distinctions 
of  life  will  be  rendered  void,  and  personal  dis- 
tinctions will  bo  ail  that  shall  avail  them ;  how, 
when  examined  by  the  secrets  of  the  inner 
man,  and  the  deeds  done  in  their  body,  the 
treasure  of  heaven  shall  be  adjudged  only 
to  him  whose  heart  was  set  upon  it  in  this 
world  ;  and  how  tremendously  the  account 


between  them  will  be  turned,  when  it  shall 
be  found  of  the  one,  that  he  must  perish 
for  lack  of  knowledge,  and  of  the  other,  that 
he  has  the  wisdom  which  is  unto  salvation. 
And  here  it  is  of  importance  to  remark, 
that  to  be  wise  as  a  Christian  is  wise,  it  is 
not  essential  to  have  that  higher  scholar- 
ship which  wealth  alone  can  purchase — that 
such  is  the  peculiar  adaptation  of  the  Gos- 
pel to  the  poor,  that  it  may  be  felt  in  the 
full  force  of  its  most  powerful  evidence,  by 
the  simplest  of  its  hearers — that  to  be  con- 
vinced of  its  truth,  all  which  appears  neces- 
sary is,  to  have  a  perception  of  sin  through 
the  medium  of  the  conscience,  and  a  per- 
ception of  the  suitableness  of  the  offered 
Saviour  through  the  medium  of  a  revela- 
tion, plain  in  its  terms,  and  obviously  sin- 
cere and  affectionate  in  its  calls.  Philoso- 
phy does  not  melt  the  conscience.  Philoso- 
phy does  not  make  luminous  that  which  in 
itself  is  plain.  Philosophy  does  not  bring 
home,  with  greater  impression  upon  the 
heart,  the  symptoms  of  honesty  and  good 
will,  which  abound  in  the  New  Testament. 
Prayer  may  do  it.  Moral  earnestness  may 
do  it.  The  Spirit,  given  to  those  who  ask 
him,  may  shine  with  the  light  of  his  demon- 
stration, on  the  docility  of  those  little  chil- 
dren, who  are  seeking,  with  their  whole 
hearts,  the  way  of  peace,  and  long  to  have 
their  feet  established  on  the  paths  of  righ- 
teousness. There  is  a  learning,  the  sole 
fruit  of  which  is  a  laborious  deviation  from 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  And  there  is  a 
learning  which  reaches  no  farther  than  to 
the  words  in  which  that  truth  is  announced, 
and  yet  reaches  far  enough  to  have  that 
truth  brought  home  with  power  upon  the 
understanding — a  learning,  the  sole  achieve- 
ment of  which  is,  to  read  the  Bible,  and  yet 
by  which  the  scholar  is  conducted  to  that 
hidden  wisdom,  which  is  his  light  in  life, 
and  his  passport  to  immortality — a  learning, 
which  hath  simply  led  the  inquirer's  way 
to  that  place,  where  the  Holy  Ghost  hath 
descended  upon  him  in  rich  effusion,  and 
which,  as  he  was  reading  in  his  own  tongue, 
the  wonderful  works  of  God,  has  given 
them  such  a  weight  and  such  a  clearness  in 
his  eyes,  that  they  have  become  to  him  the 
words  whereby  he  shall  be  saved.  And 
thus  it  is,  that  in  many  a  cottage  of  our 
land,  there  is  a  wisdom  which  is  reviled,  or 
unknown,  in  many  of  our  halls  of  litera- 
ture— there  is  the  candle  of  the  Lord  shin- 
ing in  the  hearts  of  those  who  fear  him — 
there  is  a  secret  revealed  unto  babes,  which 
is  hidden  from  the  wise  and  the  prudent — 
there  is  an  eye  which  discerns,  and  a  mind 
that  is  well  exercised  on  the  mysteries  of 
the  sure  and  the  well-ordered  covenant — 
there  is  a  sense  and  a  feeling  of  the  pre- 
ciousness  of  that  cross,  the  doctrine  of 
which  is  foolishness  to  those  who  perish — 
there  is  a  ready  apprehension  of  that  truth 


XIII.] 


TO  THE  LOWER  ORDERS  OF  SOCIETY. 


343 


which  is  held  at  nought  by  many  rich,  and 
many  mighty,  and  many  noble,  who  will 
not  he  admonished — but  which  makes  these 
poor  to  be  rich  in  faith,  and  heirs  of  that 
kingdom  which  God  hath  prepared  for  those 
who  love  him. 

We  know  not,  if  any  who  is  now  present, 
has  ever  felt  the  charm  of  an  act  of  in- 
tercourse with  a  Christian  among  the  poor 
— with  one,  whose  chief  attainment  is,  that 
he  knows  the  Bible  to  be  true ;  and  that  his 
heart,  touched  and  visited  by  a  consenting 
movement  to  its  doctrine,  feels  it  to  be  pre- 
cious. We  shall  be  disappointed,  if  the 
very  exterior  of  such  a  man  do  not  bear 
the  impress  of  that  worth  and  dignity 
which  have  been  stamped  upon  his  charac- 
ter— if,  in  the  very  aspect  and  economy  of 
his  household,  the  traces  of  his  superiority 
are  not  to  be  found — if  the  promise,  even 
of  the  life  that  now  is,  be  not  conspicuously 
realized  on  the  decent  sufficiency  of  his 
means,  and  the  order  of  his  well-conditioned 
family — if  the  eye  of  tasteful  benevolence 
be  not  regaled  by  the  symptoms  of  com- 
fort and  cheerfulness  which  are  to  be  seen 
in  his  lowly  habitation.  And  we  shall  be 
greatly  disappointed,  if,  after  having  sur- 
vived the  scoff  of  companions,  and  run 
through  the  ordeal  of  nature's  enmity,  he 
do  not  earn,  as  the  fruits  of  the  good  con- 
fession that  he  witnesses  among  his  neigh- 
bours, the  tribute  of  a  warm  and  willing 
cordiality  from  them  all — if,  while  he  lives, 
he  do  not  stand  the  first  in  estimation,  and 
when  he  dies,  the  tears  and  acknowledg- 
ments of  acquaintances,  as  well  as  of  kins- 
folk do  not  follow  him  to  his  grave — if, 
even  in  the  hearts  of  the  most  unholy 
around  him,  an  unconscious  testimony  is 
not  borne  to  the  worth  of  holiness,  so  as  to 
make-  even  this  world's  honour  one  of  the 
ingredients  in  the  portion  of  the  righteous. 
But  these  are  the  mere  tokens  and  visible 
accompaniments  of  Christian  excellence — 
the  passing  efflorescence  of  a  growth  that 
is  opening  and  maturing  for  eternity.  To 
behold  this  excellence  in  all  its  depth,  and 
in  all  its  solidity,  you  must  examine  his 
mind,  and  there  see  the  vastly  higher  ele- 
ments, with  which  it  is  conversant,  than 
those  among  which  the  children  of  this 
world  a  :  there  see  how,  in  the 

hidden  walk  of  the  inuer  man,  he  treads  a 
more  ell  rated  oath  than  is  trodden  either 
by  the  daughters  of  gaiety,  or  the  sons  of 
ambition:  there  see  how  the  whole  great- 
ness and  imagery  of  heaven  are  present  to 
his  thoughts,  and  what  a  reach  and  noble- 
ness of  conception  have  gathered  upon  his 
soul,  by  his  daily  approaches  to  heaven's 
sanctuary,  lie  lives  in  a  cottage;  and  yet 
he  is  a  king  ami  priest  unto  God.  He  is 
fixed  for  life  to  the  ignoble  drudgery  of  a 
workman,  and  yet  lie  is  on  the  full  march 
to  a  blissful  immortality.     He  is  a  child  in 


the  mysteries  of  science,  but  familiar  with 
greater  mysteries.  That  preaching  of  the 
cross,  which  is  foolishness  to  others,  he  feels 
to  be  the  power  of  God,  and  the  wisdom  of 
God.  That  faithfulness  which  annexes  to 
all  the  promises  of  the  Gospel — that  righ- 
teousness which  is  unto  the  believer — that 
fulness  in  Christ,  out  of  which  the  sup- 
plies of  light  and  of  strength  are  ever  made 
to  descend  on  the  prayers  of  all  who  put 
their  trust  in  him — that  wisdom  of  princi- 
ple, and  wisdom  of  application,  by  which, 
through  his  spiritual  insight  into  his  Bible, 
he  is  enabled  both  to  keep  his  heart,  and 
to  guide  the  movements  of  his  history, — 
these  are  his  treasures — these  are  the  ele- 
ments of  the  moral  wealth,  by  which  he  is 
far  exalted  above  the  monarch,  who  stalks 
his  little  hour  of  magnificence  on  earth,  and 
then  descends  a  ghost  of  departed  great- 
ness into  the  land  of  condemnation.  He  is 
rich,  just  because  the  word  of  Christ  dwells 
in  him  richly  in  all  wisdom.  He  is  great, 
because  the  Spirit  of  glory  and  of  God  rests 
upon  him. 

So  that,  the  same  conclusion  comes  back 
upon  us  with  mightier  emphasis  than  be- 
fore. If  a  poor  child  be  capable  of  being 
thus  transformed,  how  it  should  move  the 
heart  of  a  city  philanthropist,  when  he 
thinks  of  the  amazing  extent  of  raw  mate- 
rial, for  this  moral  and  spiritual  manufac- 
ture that  is  on  every  side  of  him — when  he 
thinks,  that  in  going  forth  on  some  Chris- 
tian enterprise  among  a  population,  he  is. 
in  truth,  walking  among  the  rudiments  of  a 
state  that  is  to  be  everlasting — that  out  of  the 
most  loathsome  and  unseemly  abodes,  a 
glory  can  be  extracted,  which  will  weather 
all  the  storms,  and  all  the  vicissitudes  of 
this  world's  history — that  in  the  filth  and 
raggedness  of  a  hovel,  that  is  to  be  found, 
on  which  all  the  worth  of  heaven,  as  well 
as  all  the  endurance  of  heaven,  can  be  im- 
printed— that  he  is,  in  a  word,  dealing  in 
embryo  with  the  elements  of  a  great  and 
future  empire,  which  is  to  rise,  indestructi- 
ble and  eternal,  on  the  ruins  of  all  that  is 
earthly,  and  every  member  of  which  shall 
be  a  king  and  a  priest  for  evermore. 

And  before  I  pass  on  to  the  application 
of  these  remarks,  let  me  just  state,  that  the 
great  instrument  for  thus  elevating  the 
poor,  is  that  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  which 
may  be  preached  unto  the  poor.  It  is  the 
doctrine  of  his  cross  finding  an  easier 
admission  into  their  hearts,  than  it  does 
through  those  barriers  of  human  pride,  and 
human  resistance,  which  are  often  reared 
on  the  basis  of  literature.  L<  t  the  testi- 
mony of  God  be  simply  taken  in,  that  on 
his  own  Son  he  has  laid  the  iniquities  of  us 
all — and  from  this  point  does  the  humble 
scholar  of  Christianity  pass  unto  light,  and 
enlargement,  and  progressive  holiness.  On 
the  reception   of   this  great    truth,  there 


344 


ON  THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  CHRISTIAN  KNOWLEDGE,  &C. 


[sERM. 


hinges  the  emancipation  of  his  heart  from  a 
thraldom  which  represses  all  the  spiritual 
energies  of  those  who  live  without  hope, 
and,  therefore,  live  without  God  in  the 
world.  It  is  guilt — it  is  the  sense  of  his 
awakened  and  unexpiated  guilt;  which 
keeps  man  at  so  wide  a  distance  from  the 
God  whom  he  has  offended.  Could  some 
method  be  devised,  by  which  God,  jealous 
of  his  honour,  and  man  jealous  of  his  safe- 
ty, might  be  brought  together  on  a  firm 
ground  of  reconciliation — it  would  trans- 
late the  sinner  under  a  new  moral  influence, 
to  the  power  of  which,  and  the  charm  of 
which  he,  before,  was  utterly  impractica- 
ble. Jesus  Christ  died,  the  just  for  the  un- 
just, to  bring  us  unto  God.  This  is  a  truth, 
which,  when  all  the  world  shall  receive  it, 
all  the  world  will  be  renovated.  Many  do 
not  see  how  a  principle,  so  mighty  in  ope- 
ration, should  be  enveloped  in  a  proposi- 
tion so  simple  of  utterance.  But  let  a  man, 
by  his  faith  in  this  utterance,  come  to  know 
that  God  is  his  friend,  and  that  heaven  is 
the  home  of  his  fondest  expectation ;  and 
in  contact  with  such  new  elements  as  these, 
he  will  evince  the  reach,  and  the  habit,  and 
the  desire  of  a  new  creature.  It  is  this 
doctrine  which  is  the  alone  instrument  of 
God  for  the  moral  transformation  of  our 
species.  When  every  demonstration  from 
the  chair  of  philosophy  shall  fail,  this  will 
achieve  its  miracles  of  light  and  virtue 
among  the  people — and  however  infidelity 
may  now  deride — or  profaneness  may  now 
lift  her  appalling  voice  upon  our  streets — 
or  licentiousness  may  now  offer  her  sicken- 
ing spectacles — or  moral  worthlessness  may 
have  now  deeply  tainted  the  families  of 
our  outcast  and  long-neglected  population, 
— however  unequal  may  appear  the  con- 
test with  the  powers  and  the  principles  of 
darkness — yet  let  not  the  teachers  of  righ- 
teousness abandon  it  in  despair ;  God  will 
bring  forth  judgme  it  unto  victory,  and  on 
the  triumphs  of  the  word  of  his  own  testi- 
mony, will  he  usher  in  the  glory  of  the  lat- 
ter days. 

There  is  one  kind  of  institution  that 
never  has  been  set  up  in  a  country,  with- 
out deceiving  and  degrading  its  people ;  and 
another  kind  of  institution  that  never  has 
been  set  up  in  a  country,  without  raising 
both  the  comfort  and  the  character  of  its 
tamilies.  We  leave  it  to  the  policy  of  our 
sister  kingdom,  by  the  pomp  and  the 
pretension  of  her  charities,  to  disguise  the 
wretchedness  which  she  cannot  do  away. 
The  glory  of  Scotland  lies  in  her  schools. 
Out  of  the  abundance  of  her  moral  and 
literary  wealth,  that  wealth  which  com- 
munication cannot  dissipate — that  wealth, 
which  its  possessor  may  spread  and  multi- 
ply amon*  thousands,  and  yet  be  as  affluent 


as  ever,  that  wealth  which  grows  by  com- 
petition, instead  of  being  exhausted,  this  is 
what,  we  trust,  she  will  ever  be  ready  to 
bestow  on  all  her  people.  Silver  and  gold 
she  may  have  none — but  such  as  she  has 
she  will  give — she  will  send  them  to  school. 
She  cannot  make  pensioners  of  them,  but 
will,  if  they  like,  make  scholars  of  them. 
She  will  give  them  of  that  food  by  which 
she  nurses  and  sustains  all  her  offspring — 
by  which  she  renders  wise  the  very  poorest 
of  her  children — by  which,  if  there  be  truth 
in  our  text,  she  puts  into  many  a  simple 
cottager,  a  glory  surpassing  that  of  the 
mightiest  potentates  in  our  world.  To  hold 
out  any  other  boon,  is  to  hold  out  a  pro- 
mise Avhich  she  and  no  country  in  the  uni- 
verse, can  ever  realize — it  is  to  decoy,  and 
then  most  wretchedly  to  deceive — it  is  to 
put  on  a  front  of  invitation,  by  which  num- 
bers are  allured  to  hunger,  and  nakedness, 
and  contempt.  It  is  to  spread  a  table,  and 
to  hang  out  such  signals  of  hospitality,  as 
draw  around  it  a  multitude  expecting  to  be 
fed,  and  who  find  that  they  must  famish 
over  a  scanty  entertainment.  A  system 
replete  with  practical  mischief  can  put  on 
the  semblance  of  charity,  even  as  Satan, 
the  father  of  all  lying  and  deceitful  pro- 
mises, can  put  on  the  semblance  of  an  an- 
gel of  light.  But  we  trust,  that  the  country 
in  which  we  live  will  ever  be  preserved 
from  the  cruelty  of  its  tender  mercies — 
that  she  will  keep  by  her  schools,  and  her 
Scriptures,  and  her  moralizing  process;  and 
that,  instead  of  vainly  attempting  so  to 
force  the  exuberance  of  Nature,  as  to  meet 
and  satisfy  the  demands  of  a  population 
whom  she  has  led  astray,  she  will  make  it 
her  constant  aim  so  to  exalt  her  population, 
as  to  establish  every  interest  that  belongs 
to  them,  on  the  foundation  of  their  own 
worth  and  their  own  capabilities — that 
taunted,  as  she  has  been,  by  her  contemp- 
tuous neighbour,  for  the  poverty  of  her 
soil,  she  will  at  least  prove,  by  deed  and  by 
example,  that  it  is  fitted  to  sustain  an  erect, 
and  honorable,  and  high-minded  peasantry; 
and  leaving  England  to  enjoy  the  fatness 
of  her  own  fields,  and  a  complacency  with 
her  own  institutions,  that  we  shall  make  a 
clean  escape  from  her  error,  and  never 
again  be  entangled  therein — that  unseduced 
by  the  false  lights  of  a  mistaken  philanthro- 
py, and  mistaken  patriotism,  we  shall  be 
enabled  to  hold  on  in  the  way  of  our  an- 
cestors ;  to  ward  off  every  near  and  threat- 
ening blight  from  the  character  of  our  be- 
loved people ;  and  so  to  labour  with  the 
manhood  of  the  present,  and  the  boyhood 
of  the  coming  generation,  as  to  enrich  our 
land  with  that  wisdom  which  is  more  pre- 
cious than  sold,  and  that  righteousness 
which  exalteth  a  kingdom. 


ON  THE  DUTY  AND  THE  MEANS  OF,  &C. 


345 


SERMON  XIV. 


On  the  Duty  and  the  Means  of  Christianizing  our  Home  Population. 

"And  he  said  unto  them,  Co  ye  into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature." — Mark  xvi.  15. 


Christianity  proceeds  upon  the  native 
indisposition  of  the  human  heart  to  its  truths 
aud  its  lessons — and  all  its  attempts  for  the 
establishment  of  itself  in  the  world  are  made 
upon  this  principle.  It  never  expects  that 
men  will,  of  their  own  accord,  originate  that 
movement  by  which  they  are  to  come  in 
contact  with  the  faith  of  the  Gospel ;  and, 
therefore,  instead  of  waiting  till  they  shall 
move  toward  the  Gospel,  it  has  been  pro- 
vided, from  the  first,  that  the  Gospel  shall 
move  towards  them.  The  Apostles  did  not 
set  up  their  stationary  college  at  Jerusalem, 
in  the  hope  of  embassies  from  a  distance 
to  inquire  after  the  recent  and  wondrous 
revelation  that  had  broke  upon  the  world. 
But  they  had  to  go  forth,  and  to  preach 
among  all  nations,  beginning  at  Jerusalem. 
And,  in  like  manner,  it  never  was  looked 
for,  that  men,  in  the  ardour  of  their  curi- 
osity, or  desire  after  the  way  of  salvation, 
were  to  learn  the  language  of  the  Apostles, 
that  they  might  come  and  hear  of  it  at  their 
mouth.  But  the  Apostles  were  miraculously 
gifted  with  the  power  of  addressing  all  in 
their  own  native  language — and  when  thus 
furnished,  they  went  actively  and  aggres- 
sively about  among  them.  It  is  no  where 
supposed  that  the  demand  for  Christianity 
is  spontaneously,  and  in  the  first  instance, 
to  arise  among  those  who  are  not  Chris- 
tians ;  but  it  is  laid  upon  those  who  are 
Christians,  to  go  abroad,  and,  if  possible,  to 
awaken  out  of  their  spiritual  lethargy,  those 
who  are  fast  asleep  in  that  worldliness, 
which  they  love,  and  from  which,  without 
some  external  application,  there  is  no  ra- 
tional prospect  of  ever  arousing  them.  The 
dead  mass  will  not  quicken  into  sensibility 
of  itself;  and,  therefore,  unless  some  cause 
of  fermentation  be  brought  to  it  from  with- 
out, will  it  remain  in  all  the  sluggishness  of 
its  original  nature.  For  there  is  an  utter 
diversity  between  the  article  of  Christian 
instruction,  and  the  articles  of  ordinary 
merchandise.  For  the  latter  there  is  a  de- 
mand, to  which  men  are  natively  and  ori- 
ginally urged  by  hunger  or  by  thirst,  or  by 
the  other  physical  sensations  and  appetites 
of  their  constitution.  For  the  former  there 
is  no  natural  appetite.  It  is  just  as  necessary 
to  create  a  spiritual  hunger,  as  it  is  to  af- 
ford a  spiritual  refreshment;  and  so  from 
the  very  first,  do  we  find,  that  for  the  spread 
of  Ch/istianity  in  the  world,  there  had  to  be 
not  an  itinerancy  on  the  part  of  inquirers, 
but  a  busy,  active,  and  extended  itinerancy 
on  the  part  of  its  advocates  and  its  friends. 
44 


Now,  those  very  principles  which  were 
so  obviously  acted  on  at  the  beginning,  are 
also  the  very  principles  that,  in  all  ages  of 
the  church,  have  characterized  its  evangel- 
izing processes.  The  Bible  Society  is  now 
doing,  by  ordinary  means,  what  was  done 
by  the  miracle  of  tongues,  in  the  days  of 
the  Apostles — enabling  the  people  of  all  na 
tions  to  read,  each  in  their  own  tongue,  tne 
wonderful  works  of  God.  And  the  Mis 
sionary  Societies  are  sending  forth,  not  in- 
spired Apostles,  gifted  with  tongues,  but  the 
expounders  of  apostolical  doctrine,  learned 
in  tongues,  over  the  face  of  the  globe.  They 
do  not  presume  upon  such  a  taste  for  the 
Gospel  in  heathen  lands,  as  that,  the  people 
there  shall  traverse  seas  and  continents,  or 
shall  set  themselves  down  to  the  laborious 
acquisition  of  some  Christian  language,  that 
they  might  either  have  access  to  Scripture, 
or  the  ability  of  converse  with  men  that  are 
skilled  in  the  mysteries  of  the  faith.  But 
this  taste  which  they  do  not  find,  they  ex- 
pect to  create ;  and  for  this  purpose,  is  there 
now  an  incessant  application  to  Pagan 
countries,  of  means  and  instruments  from 
without,  and  many  are  the  lengthened  and 
the  hazardous  journies  which  have  been 
undertaken — and  voyages  of  splendid  en- 
terprise have  recently  been  crowned  with 
splendid  moral  achievements;  insomuch, 
that  even  the  ferocity  and  licentiousness  of 
the  savage  character  have  given  way  under 
the  power  of  the  truth ;  and  lands,  that 
within  the  remembrance  of  many  now 
alive,  rankled  with  the  worst  abominations 
of  idolatry,  have  now  exchanged  them  for 
the  arts  and  the  decencies  of  civilization ; 
for  village  schools,  and  Christian  Sabbaths, 
and  venerable  pastors,  who  first  went  forth 
as  missionaries,  and,  as  the  fruits  of  their 
apostolic  labour,  among  these  outcast  wan- 
derers, can  now  rejoice  over  holy  grand- 
sires,  and  duteous  children,  and  all  that  can 
gladden  the  philanthropic  eye,  in  the  peace, 
and  purity,  and  comfort  of  pious  families. 

Now,  amid  the  splendour  and  the  interest 
of  these  more  conspicuous  operations,  it  is 
often  not  adverted  to,  how  much  work  of 
a  missionary  character  is  indispensable  for 
perpetuating,  and  still  more  for  extending 
Christianity  at  home— how  families,  within 
the  distance  of  half  a  mile,  may  lapse,  with- 
out observation  or  sympathy  on  our  part, 
into  a  state  of  practical  heathenism — how, 
within  less  than  an  hour's  walk,  hundreds 
may  be  found,  who  morally  and  spiritually 
live  at  as  wide  a  separation  from  the  Gospel 


$46 


ON  THE  DUTY  AND  MEANS  OF 


[-SERM 


and  all  its  ordinances,  as  do  the  barbarians 
of  another  continent — how,  in  many  of  our 
crowded  recesses,  the  families,  which,  out  of 
sight,  and  out  of  Christian  sympathy,  have 
accumulated  there,  might,  at  length,  sink 
and  settle  down  into  a  listless,  and  lethar- 
gic, and  to  all  appearance,  impracticable 
population — leaving  the  Christian  teacher 
as  much  to  do  with  them  as  has  the  first 
missionary  when  he  touches  on  a  yet  un- 
broken shore.  It  is  vain  to  expect,  that 
by  a  proper  and  primary  impulse  originat- 
ing with  themselves,  those  aliens  from 
Christianity  will  go  forth  on  the  inquiry 
after  it.  The  messengers  of  Christianity 
must  go  forth  upon  them.  Many  must  go 
to  and  fro  amongst  the  streets,  and  the  lanes, 
and  those  deep  intricacies  that  teem  with 
human  life,  to  an  extent  far  beyond  the  eye 
or  imagination  of  the  unobservant  passen- 
ger, if  we  are  to  look  for  the  increase  either 
of  a  spiritual  taste,  or  of  scriptural  know- 
ledge among  the  families.  That  mass  which 
is  so  dense  of  mind,  and,  therefore,  so  dense 
of  immortality,  must  be  penetrated  in  the 
length  and  in  the  breadth  of  it ;  and  then 
many  Avill  be  found,  who,  however  small 
their  physical  distance  from  the  sound  of 
the  Gospel,  stand  at  as  wide  a  moral  dis- 
tance therefrom,  as  do  the  children  of  the 
desert,  and  to  overpass  this  barrier,  to  send 
out  upon  this  outfield,  such  ministrations 
as  might  reclaim  its  occupiers  to  the  habits 
and  the  observations  of  a  Christian  land,  to 
urge  and  obtrude,  as  it  were,  upon  the  no- 
tice of  thousands,  what,  without  such  an 
advancement,  not  one  of  them  might  have 
moved  a  footstep  in  quest  of—  these  are  so 
many  approximations,  that,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  have  in  them  the  charac- 
ter, and  might,  with  the  blessing  of  God, 
have  also  the  effect  of  a  missionary  enter- 
prise. 

When  we  are  commanded  to  go  into  all 
the  world,  and  preach  the  Gospel  to  every 
creature,  our  imagination  stretches  forth  be- 
yond the  limits  of  Christendom ;  and  we 
advert  not  to  the  millions  who  are  within 
these  limits,  nay,  within  the  sight  of  Chris- 
tian temples,  and  the  sound  of  Sabbath  bells, 
yet  who  never  heard  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ.  They  live  to  manhood,  and  to  old 
age,  deplorably  ignorant  of  the  way  of  sal- 
vation, and  in  ignorance,  too,  not  the  less 
deplorable  than  it  is  wilful.  It  is  this  which 
so  fearfully  aggravates  their  guilt,  that  on.  the 
very  confines  of  light,  they  remain  in  dark- 
ness :  and  thereby  prove,  that  it  is  a  darkness 
which  they  love,  and  which  they  choose  to 
persist  in.  Thus  it  will  be  found  more 
tolerable  for  the  heathen  abroad,  than  for 
the  heathen  at  home ;  and  therefore  it  is, 
that  for  the  duty  of  our  text,  the  wilds  of 
Pagan  idolatry,  or  of  Mahometan  delusion, 
are  not  the  only  theatres — that  for  its  full 
performance,  it  is  not  enough  that  we  equip 


the  missionary  vessel,  and  go  in  quest  ot 
untaught  humanity  at  a  distance,  and  hold 
converse  with  the  men  of  other  climes,  and 
of  other  tongues,  and  rear  on  some  barba- 
rous shore,  the  Christianized  village,  as  an 
outpost  in  that  spiritual  warfare,  by  which 
we  hope,  at  length,  to  banish  depravity  and 
guilt,  even  from  the  farthest  extremities  of 
our  species.  These  are  noble  efforts,  and 
altogether  worthy  of  being  extended  and 
multiplied  a  hundred  fold.  But  they  are  not 
the  only  efforts  of  Christian  philanthropy; 
nor  can  they  be  sustained  as  a  complete 
discharge  from  the  obligation  of  preaching 
the  Gospel  to  every  creature  under  heaven. 
For  the  accomplishment  of  this,  there  must 
not  only  be  a  going  forth  on  the  vast  and 
untrodden  spaces  that  are  without;  there 
must  be  a  filling  up  of  the  numerous  and 
peopled  vacancies  that  are  within— a  busy, 
internal  locomotion,  that  might  circulate, 
and  disperse,  and  branch  off  to  the  right  and 
to  the  left,  among  the  many  thousand  fami- 
lies which  are  at  hand  :  And  thoroughly  to 
pervade  these  families;  to  make  good  a 
lodgment  in  the  midst  of  them,  for  the 
nearer  or  the  more  frequent  ministrations 
of  Christianity  than  before  ;  to  have  gained 
welcome  for  the  Gospel  testimony  into  their 
houses,  and,  in  return,  to  have  drawn  any 
of  them  forth  to  attendance  on  the  place  of 
Sabbath  and  of  solemn  services ;  this,  also, 
is  to  act  upon  our  text,  this  is  to  do  the  part, 
and  to  render  one  of  the  best  achievements 
of  a  missionary. 

"  How  can  they  believe,"  says  Paul, 
"  without  a  preacher," — and  "  how  can  they 
preach,  except  they  be  sent?"  To  make 
sure  this  process,  there  must  be  a  juxtapo- 
sition between  him  who  declares  the  word, 
and  them  who  are  addressed  by  it ;  but  to 
make  good  this  juxtaposition,  the  Apostle 
never  imagines  that  alienated  man  is,  of  his 
own  accord,  to  move  towards  the  preacher 
— and  therefore,  that  the  preacher  must  be 
sent,  or  must  move  towards  him.  And,  per- 
haps, it  has  not  been  adverted  to,  that  'in 
the  very  first  steps  of  this  approximation, 
there  is  an  encouragement  for  going  on- 
ward, and  for  plying  the  families  of  a  city 
population  with  still  nearer  and  more  be- 
setting urgencies  than  before.  It  is  not 
known  how  much  the  very  juxtaposition  oi 
an  edifice  for  worship,  tells  upon  the  church- 
going  habit  of  the  contiguous  householders . 
how  many  there  are  who  will  not  move  at 
the  sound  of  a  distant  bell,  that  with  almost 
mechanical  sureness,  will  go  forth  and  min- 
gle with  the  stream  of  passengers  who  are 
crowding  the  way  to  a  place  that  is  at  hand 
— how  children,  lured,  perhaps,  at  the  first, 
by  curiosity,  are  led  so  to  reiterate  their  at- 
tendance, as  to  be  landed  in  a  most  precious 
habit  for  youth  and  for  manhood— how  this 
tendency  spreads  by  talk,  and  sympathy, 
and  imitation,  through  each  little  vicinity ; 


XIV.] 


CHRISTIANIZING  OUR  HOME  POPULATION- 


347 


and  thus,  in  groups,  or  in  clusters,  might 
adjoining  families  be  gained  over  to  the  or- 
dinances of  religion — how  the  leaven,  when 
once  set  a-going,  might  spread  by  the  fer- 
mentation of  converse,  and  mutual  senti- 
ment, through  the  whole  lump  ;  till  over  the 
face  of  a  whole  city  department,  the  Chris- 
tian fabric,  which  stands  conspicuously  in 
the  midst  of  it,  and  whither  its  people  are 
rung  every  Sabbath,  to  the  ministrations  of 
the  Gospel,  might  come  to  be  its  place  of 
general  repair ;  and  attendance  there  be  at 
length  proceeded  on  as  one  of  the  decencies 
of  its  established  observation.  Some  of  the 
influences  in  this  process  may  appear  slight 
or  fanciful  to  the  superficial  eye ;  and  yet 
they  are  known  and  familiarly  known,  to 
be  of  powerful  operation. 

You  must  surely  be  aware,  that  it  makes 
all  the  practical  difference  in  the  world,  to 
the  retail  and  custom  even  of  an  ordinary 
shop,  should  it  deviate,  by  a  very  small 
hairbreadth,  from  the  minutest  convenience 
of  the  public — should  it  retire,  by  ever  so 
little  from  the  busy  pavement,  or  have  to  be 
ascended  by  two  or  three  steps,  or  require 
the  slightest  turn  and  change  of  direction 
from  the  beaten  path  which  passengers  do 
inveterately  walk  in.  And  human  nature 
on  a  week-day,  is  human  nature  on  the 
Sabbath.  There  is  no  saying  on  how  slight 
or  trivial  a  circumstance  it  may  be  made  to 
turn ;  and  odd  as  the  illustration  may  ap- 
pear, we  feel  confident  that  we  have  not,  at 
present,  either  a  profound  or  a  pious  hearer, 
who  will  undervalue  one  single  stepping- 
stone,  by  which  a  hearer  more  might  be 
brought  to  the  house  of  God — who  will  de- 
spise any  of  the  means,  however  humble, 
that  bring  a  human  creature  within  the 
reach  of  that  word,  which  is  able  to  sanc- 
tify and  save  him — who  will  forget  the 
wonted  style  of  God's  administrations,  by 
which,  on  these  minutest  incidents  of  life, 
the  greatest  events  of  history  are  oft  sus- 
pended— or,  who  will  deny  that  the  same 
Being,  who,  by  the  flight  of  a  single  bird, 
turned  the  pursuers  of  Mahomet  away  from 
him,  and  so  spared  the  instrument  by  which 
a  gross  and  grievous  superstition  hath  found 
an  ascendency  over  millions  of  immortal 
spirits,  that  he  can  enlist  in  the  cause  of  his 
own  Son,  even  the  least  and  slightest  fa- 
miliarities of  human  practice;  and  with 
links,  which  in  themselves  are  exceeding 
small,  can  fasten  and  uphold  the  chain, 
which  runs  throngh  the  caithly  pilgrimage 
of  man,  and  reaches  to  his  eternity. 

But  after  all,  though  local  conveniency 
may  allure,  in  the  first  instance,  to  the  house 
of  God,  local  conveniency  will  not  detain 
the  attendance  of  multitudes,  unless  there 
be  a  worth  and  a  power  in  the  services 
which  are  rendered  there — unless  there  be 
a  moral  earnestness  in  the  heart  of  the 
preacher,  which  may  pour  forth  a  sympa- 


thy with  itself  through  the  hearts  of  a 
listening  congregation — unless,  acquitting 
himself  as  an  upright  minister  of  the  New 
Testament,  he  expound  with  faithfulness 
and  some  degree  of  energy,  those  truths 
which  are  unto  salvation ;  and  so  distribute 
among  his  fellow-sinners,  the  alone  substan- 
tial and  satisfying  food  of  the  soul — unless 
such  a  demonstration  be  given  of  the  awful 
realities  in  which  we  deal,  as  to  awaken  in 
many  bosoms  the  realizing  sense  of  death, 
and  of  the  judgment-seat — and  above  all, 
unless  the  demands  of  the  law,  with  its  ac- 
companying severities  5)id  terrors,  be  so 
urged  on  the  conviction  of  guilty  man,  as  to 
make  it  fall  with  welcome  upon  his  ear, 
when  told,  that  unto  him  a  Saviour  has  been 
born.  These  are  the  alone  elements  of  a 
rightful  and  well-earned  popularity.  Elo- 
quence may  dazzle — and  argument  may 
compel  the  homage  of  its  intellectual  admir- 
ers— and  fashion  may  even,  when  these  are 
wanting,  sustain  through  its  little  hour  of 
smile  and  sunshine,  a  complacent  attend- 
ance on  the  reigning  idol  of  the  neighbour- 
hood— but  it  is  only  if  armed  with  the  pan- 
oply of  Scriptural  truth,  that  there  will 
gather  and  adhere  to  him  a  people  who 
hunger  for  the  bread  of  life,  and  who  make 
a  business  of  their  eternity.  To  fill  the 
church  well,  we  must  fill  the  pulpit  well, 
and  see  that  the  articles  of  the  peace-speak- 
ing blood,  and  the  sanctifying  Spirit,  are 
the  topics  that  be  dearest  to  the  audience, 
and  on  which  the  Christian  orator  who  ad- 
dresses them  most  loves  to  expatiate.  These 
form  the  only  enduring  staple  of  good  and 
vigorous  preaching ;  and  unless  they  have 
a  breadth,  and  a  prominency,  and  a  fond 
reiteration  in  the  sermons  that  shall  be  de- 
livered from  the  place  where  we  now 
stand,*  they  either  will  not,  or  ought  not 
to  be  listened  to. 

Yet  grieved  and  disappointed  should  we 
be,  did  he  confine  himself  to  Sabbath  minis- 
trations— did  he  not  go  forth,  and  become 
the  friend  and  the  Christian  adviser  of  all 
who  dwell  within  the  limits  of  his  vineyard 
— did  he  not  act  the  part  of  an  Apostle 
among  you,  from  house  to  house,  and  vary 
the  fatigue  of  his  preparations  for  the  pul 
pit,  by  a  daily  walk  amongst  the  ignorant, 
or  the  sick,  or  the  sorrowful,  or  the  dying. 
It  is  your  part  to  respect,  as  you  would  a 
sanctuary,  that  solitude  to  which,  for  hours 
together,  he  should  commit  himself,  in  the 
work  of  meditating  the  truths  of  salvation- 
and  it  is  his  part  to  return  your  delicacy  by 
his  labours  of  love,  by  the  greetings  of  his 
cordial  fellowship,  by  his  visits  of  kindness. 
It  is  a  wrong  imagination  on  the  side  of  a 


*  This  Sermon  was  preached  at  the  opening  of 
a  city  chape),  which  has  a  local  district  assigned  to 
it.  and  whose  rule  of  seat-letting  is  on  the  territorial 
principle. 


348 


ON  THE  DUTY  AND  THE  MEANS  OF 


[SERM. 


people,  when  they  look  on  the  Sabbath  for 
a  vigorous  exposition  of  duty  or  doctrine, 
from  him  whom  they  tease,  and  interrupt, 
and  annoy,  through  the  week ;  and  it  is  a 
wrong  imagination  on  the  side  of  a  pastor, 
when  looking  on  the  church  as  the  sole 
arena  of  his  usefulness,  he  does  not  relax 
the  labour  of  a  spirit  that  has  been  much 
exercised  on  the  great  topics  of  the  Chris- 
tian ministry,  by  frequent  and  familiar  in- 
tercourse among  those,  whom,  perhaps,  he 
has  touched  or  arrested  by  his  Sabbath  de- 
monstrations. Yqu  ought  to  intrude  not 
upon  his  arrangements,  and  his  studies; 
but  he  ought,  in  these  arrangements,  to 
provide  the  opportunities  of  ample  con- 
verse with  every  spiritual  patient,  with 
every  honest  inquirer.  You  should  be 
aware  of  the  distinction  that  he  makes  be- 
tween that  season  of  the  day  which  is  set 
apart  for  retirement,  and  that  season  of  the 
day  which  lies  open  to  the  duty  of  holding 
courteous  fellowship  with  all ;  and  of  hiding 
not  himself  from  his  own  flesh.  It  is  the 
gross  insensibility  which  obtains  to  the  pri- 
vileges both  of  a  sacred  and  literary  order — 
it  is  the  disturbance  of  a  perpetual  inroad 
on  that  prophet's  chamber,  which  ought,  at 
all  times,  to  be  a  safe  retreat  of  contempla- 
tion— it  is  the  incessant  struggle  that  must 
be  made  for  a  professional  existence,  with 
irksome  application,  and  idle  ceremony,  and 
even  the  urgencies  of  friendship  ;  these  are 
sufficient  to  explain  those  pulpit  imbecili- 
ties, of  which  many  are  heard  to  complain, 
while  themselves  they  help  to  create  them. 
And,  therefore,  if  you  want  to  foster  the 
energies  of  your  future  clergyman ;  if  you 
would  co-operate  with  him  in  those  mental 
labours,  by  which  he  provides  through  the 
week  for  the  repast  of  your  Sabbath  festi- 
val ;  if  it  is  your  desire  that  an  unction  and 
a  power  shall  be  felt  in  all  his  pulpit  minis- 
trations ;  if  here  you  would  like  to  catch  a 
glow  of  heaven's  sacredness,  and  receive 
that  fresh  and  forcible  impulse  upon  your 
spirits,  which  might  send  you  forth  again 
with  a  redoubled  ardour  of  holy  affection 
and  zeal  on  the  business  of  life,  and  make 
you  look  and  long  for  the  coming  Sabbath, 
as  another  delightful  resting-place  on  your 
journey  towards  Zion — then  suffer  him  to 
breathe,  without  molestation,  in  that  pure 
and  lofty  region,  where  he  might  inhale  a 
seraphic  fervency,  by  which  to  kindle  among 
his  hearers  his  own  celestial  fire,  his  own 
noble  enthusiasm.  If  it  be  this,  and  not  the 
glee  of  companionship,  or  the  drudgeries 
of  ordinary  clerkship  that  you  want  from 
your  minister,  then  leave,  I  beseech  you, 
his  time  in  his  own  hand,  and  hold  his  asy- 
lum to  be  inviolable. 

But,  we  trust,  that  from  this  asylum  his 
excursions  will  be  frequent;  and  sure  we 
are,  that  nought  but  an  affectionate  forth- 
going  is  necessary  on  his  part,  that  he  may 


have  a  warm  and  a  willing  reception  upon 
yours.  It  is  utterly  a  mistake,  that  any 
population,  whatever  be  their  present  habits, 
will  discourage  the  approaches  of  a  Chris- 
tian minister  to  their  families.  It  is  a  par- 
ticularly wrong  imagination,  that  in  cities 
there  is  a  hard  or  an  insolent  defiance 
among  the  labouring  classes,  which  no  as- 
siduities of  service  or  of  good-will  on  the 
part  of  their  clergyman  can  possibly  over- 
come. Let  him  but  try  what  their  tem- 
perament is  in  this  matter,  and  he  will  find 
it  in  every  way  as  courteous  and  inviting, 
as  among  the  most  primitive  of  our  Scottish 
peasantry.  Let  him  be  but  alert  to  every  call 
of  threatening  disease  among  his  people, 
and  the  ready  attendant  upon  every  death- 
bed— let  him  ply  not  his  fatiguing,  but  his 
easy  and  most  practicable  rounds  of  visita- 
tion in  the  midst  of  them — let  him  be  zeal- 
ous for  their  best  interests,  and  not  in  the 
spirit  of  a  fawning  obsequiousness,  but  in 
that  of  a  manly,  intelligent,  and  honest 
friendship,  let  him  stand  forth  as  the  guar- 
dian of  the  poor,  the  guide  and  the  counsel- 
lor of  their  children ;  it  is  positively  not  in 
human  nature  to  withstand  the  charm  and 
the  power  which  lie  in  such  unwearied 
ministrations;  and  if  visibly  prompted  by 
the  affinity  that  there  is  in  the  man's  heart 
for  his  fellows  of  the  species,  there  will,  by 
a  law  of  the  human  constitution,  be  an  affi- 
nity in  theirs'  towards  him,  which  they  can- 
not stifle,  though  they  would ;  and  they 
will  have  no  wish  to  stifle  it. 

It  is  to  this  principle,  little  as  it  has  been 
recognised,  and  still  less  as  it  has  been  pro- 
ceeded on,  it  is  to  this  that  we  confide  the 
gathering  at  length  of  a  congregation  within 
these  walls,  and  that  too  from  the  vicinities 
by  which  we  are  immediately  surrounded. 
That  the  chapel  will  be  filled  at  the  very 
outset,  from  the  district  which  has  been  as- 
signed to  it,  we  have  no  expectation.  But 
we  do  fondly  hope,  as  the  fruit  of  his  un- 
wearied services,  that  its  minister  will  draw 
the  kind  regards  of  the  people  after  him ; 
that  an  impression  will  be  made  by  his 
powerful  and  reiterated  addresses  in  the 
bosom  of  their  families,  which  may  not 
stop  there ;  that  the  man  who  prays  at  every 
funeral,  and  sits  by  every  dying  bed,  and 
seizes  every  opening  for  Christian  useful- 
ness that  is  afforded  to  him  by  the  visita- 
tions of  Providence  on  the  houses  of  the 
surrounding  neighbourhood,  and  who,  while 
a  fit  companion  for  the  great  in  his  vine- 
yard, is  a  ready,  and  ever  accessible  friend 
to  the  poorest  of  them  all ;  it  is  utterly  im- 
possible, that  such  a  man,  after  his  work  of 
varied  and  active  benevolence,  will  have 
nought  to  address  on  the  Sabbath  but  empty 
walls.  After  being  the  eye-witness  of  what 
he  does,  there  wdl  spring  up  a  most  natural 
desire,  and  that  cannot  be  resisted,  to  hear 
what  he  says.    It  is  not  yet  known  how 


XIV.] 


CHRISTIANIZING  OUR  HONE  POPULATION. 


349 


much  such  attentions  as  these,  kept  up,  and 
made  to  play  in  busy  and  constant  recurrence 
upon  one  local  neighbourhood  ;  it  is  not  yet 
known  how  much  and  how  powerfully  they 
tell  in  drawing  the  hearts  of  the  people  to- 
wards him  who  faithfully  and  with  honest 
friendship,  discharges  them.  They  will 
make  the  pulpit  which  he  fills  a  common 
centre  of  attraction  to  the  whole  territory 
over  which  he  expatiates;  and  we  need  not, 
that  we  may  see  exemplified  in  human  so- 
ciety the  worth  and  importance  of  the  pas- 
toral relationship,  we  need  not  go  alone 
among  the  sequestered  vales,  or  the  far  and 
upland  retreats  of  our  country  parishes.  It 
is  not  a  local  phenomenon  dependent  on 
geography.  It  is  a  general  one,  dependent 
on  the  nature  of  man  ;  on  those  laws  of  the 
heart,  which  no  change  of  place  or  of  cir- 
cumstances can  obliterate.  To  gain  the 
moral  ascendency  of  which  we  speak,  it  is 
enough  if  the  upright  and  laborious  clergy- 
man have  human  feelings  and  human  fami- 
lies on  every  side  of  him.  It  signifies  not 
where.  Give  him  Christian  kindness,  and 
this  will  pioneer  a  way  for  him  amongst  all 
the  varieties  of  place  and  of  population. 
Beside  the  smoke,  and  the  din,  and  the  diz- 
zying wheel  of  crowded  manufactories,  will 
he  find  as  ready  an  introduction  for  himself 
and  for  his  office,  as  if  his  only  walk  had 
been  among  peaceful  hamlets,  and  with 
nought  but  the  romance  and  the  rusticity 
of  nature  spread  out  before  him.  It  is  ut- 
terly a  wrong  imagination,  and  in  the  face 
both  of  experience  and  of  prophecy,  that  in 
towns  there  is  an  impracticable  barrier 
against  the  capabilities  and  the  triumphs  of 
the  Gospel — that  in  towns  the  cause  of  hu- 
man amelioration  must  be  abandoned  in 
despair — that  in  towns  it  is  not  by  the  archi- 
tecture of  chapels,  but  by  the  architecture 
of  prisons,  and  of  barracks,  and  of  bride- 
wells, we  are  alone  to  seek  for  the  protec- 
tion of  society — that  elsewhere  a  moralizing 
charm  may  go  forth  among  the  people,  from 
village  schools  and  Sabbath  services,  but 
that  there  is  a  hardihood  and  a  ferocity  in 
towns,  which  must  be  dealt  with  in  another 
way,  and  against  which  all  the  artillery  of 
the  pulpit  is  feeble  as  infancy — that  a  foul 
and  feverish  depravity  has  settled  there, 
which  no  spiritual  application  will  ever  ex- 
tinguish :  for  amid  all  the  devisings  for  the 
peace  and  order  of  our  community,  do  we 
find  it  to  be  the  shrewd  and  sturdy  appre- 
hension of  many,  that  all  which  can  be 
achieved  in  our  overgrown  cities,  is  by  the 
strength  of  the  secular  arm ;  that  a  stern 
and  vigorous  police  will  do  more  for  public 
morals,  than  a  whole  band  of  ecclesiastics ; 
that  a  periodical  execution  will  strike  a 
more  salutary  terror  into  the  hearts  of  the 
multitude,  than  do  the  dreadest  fulminations 
of  the  preacher's  voice;  and  this  will  ex- 
plain the  derision  and  the  distrust  where- 


with that  argument  is  listened  to,  which 
goes  to  set  forth  the  efficacy  of  Christian 
doctrine,  or  to  magnify  the  office  of  him 
who  delivers  it. 

We  can  offer  no  computation  that  will 
satisfy  such  antagonists  as  these,  of  the  im- 
portance of  Christianity  even  to  the  civil 
and  the  temporal  well-being  of  our  species; 
and  we  shall,  therefore,  plead  the  authority 
of  our  text,  for  extending  its  lessons  to  every 
creature — for  going  forth  with  it  to  every 
haunt  and  every  habitation  when?  immortal 
beings  are  to  be  found — for  not  merelj  car- 
rying it  beyond  the  limits  of  Christendom, 
but  for  filling  up  with  instruction  the  many 
blank,  and  vacant,  and  still  unoccupied 
places,  teeming  with  population,  that,  even 
within  these  limits  have  not  been  overtaken. 
What !  shall  we  be  told,  that  if  there  is  a 
man  under  heaven,  whom  the  Gospel  lias 
not  yet  reached,  it  is  but  obedience  to  a  last 
and  solemn  commandment,  when  the  mis- 
sionary travels  even  to  the  farthest  verge  of 
our  horizon,  that  he  may  bear  it  to  his  door 
— shall  we  be  told  of  the  thousands  who 
are  beside  us,  that,  though  their  souls  are 
perishing  for  lack  of  knowledge,  we  might, 
without  one  care  or  one  effort  abandon 
them  ?  Are  we  to  give  up  as  desperate,  the 
Christian  reformation  of  our  land,  when  we 
read  of  those  mighty  achievements,  and 
those  heavenly  outpourings,  by  which  even 
the  veriest  wilds  of  heathenism  have  been 
fertilized — or,  with  such  an  instrument  to 
work  by  as  that  of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ,  which  in  the  hands  of  the  Spirit  of 
God,  hath  wrought  its  miracles  on  the  men 
of  all  ages,  shall  we  forbear,  as  a  hopeless 
enterprise,  the  evangelizing  of  our  own 
homes,  the  eternal  salvation  of  our  own  fa- 
milies? "  Be  of  good  cheer,"  says  the  Spirit 
to  the  apostle,  "I  have  much  people  for 
thee  in  this  city;"  and  that,  a  city,  too,  the 
most  profligate  and  abandoned  that  ever 
flourished  on  the  face  of  our  world.  And 
still  the  Lord's  band  is  not  shortened,  that 
it  cannot  save.  Neither  is  his  ear  heavy, 
that  it  cannot  hear.  It  is  open  as  ever  to 
the  cry  of  your  intercessions — and  on  these, 
we  would  devolve  our  cause.  We  entreat 
the  fellowship  of  your  prayers.  We  know, 
that  all  human  exertion,  and  eloquence,  and 
wisdom,  arc  vain  without  them — that,  lack- 
ing that  influence,  which  is  gotten  down  by 
supplications  from  on  high,  sermons  are  but 
high-sounding  cymbals,  and  churches  but 
naked  architecture — that  mere  pains  are  of 
no  avail,  and  that  it  only  lies  within  the  com- 
pass of  pains  and  prayers,  to  do  any  thing. 

And  we,  indeed,  have  great  reason  for 
encouragement,  when  we  think  of  the  sub- 
ject of  our  message.  "W  hen  we  are  bidden 
in  the  text  to  preach,  it  is  to  preach  the 
Gospel — it  is  to  proclaim  good  news  in  the 
hearing  of  the  people — it  is  to  sound  forth 
thg  glad  tidings  of  great  joy — it  is  to  telJ 


350 


DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  KNOWLEDGE  AND  CONSIDERATION. 


[sER.M. 


even  the  chief  of  sinners,  that  God  is  now 
willing  to  treat  him  as  a  sinner  no  longer ; 
that  he  invites  him  to  all  the  honours  of 
righteousness  #md  that  in  virtue  of  a  blood 
which  cleanseth  from  all  sin,  and  of  an  obe- 
dience, to  the  rewards  of  which  he  is  freely 
and  fully  invited,  there  is  not  a  gudty  crea- 
ture in  our  world,  who  may  not  draw  nigh. 
Should  he  who  preaches  within  these  walls, 
turn  out  the  faithful  and  the  energetic  ex- 
pounder of  this  word  of  salvation — should 
the  blessing  of  God  be  upon  his  ways,  and 
that  demonstration  which  cometh  from  on 
high,  accompany  his  words— should  he,  filled 
with  zeal  in  the  high  cause  of  your  immor- 
tality, be  instant  among  you  in  season,  and 
out  of  season — and  devoted  to  the  work  of 
his  sacred  ministry,  he  make  it  his  single 
aim  to  gather  in  a  harvest  of  imperishable 
spirits,  that  by  him  as  an  instrument  of 
grace,  have  been  rescued  from  hell,  and 
raised  to  a  blissful  eternity — should  this  be 
indeed  the  high  walk  of  his  unremitting 


toil,  and  his  unwearied  perseverance — then, 
such  is  the  power  of  the  divine  testimony, 
when  urged  out  of  the  fulness  of  a  believer's 
heart,  and  made  to  fall  with  the  impression 
of  his  undoubted  sincerity  on  those  whom 
he  addresses;  that  for  ourselves  we  shall 
have  no  fear  of  a  good  and  a  glorious  issue 
to  this  undertaking ;  and,  therefore,  as  Paul 
often  cast  the  success  of  his  labours  on  the 
prayers  of  them  for  whom  he  laboured, 
would  I  again  entreat  that  your  supplica- 
tions do  ascend  to  the  throne  of  grace  for 
him  who  is  to  minister  amongst  you  in 
word  and  in  doctrine — that  he  may,  indeed, 
be  a  pastor  according  to  God's  own  heart, 
who  shall  feed  a  people  here  wuh  know- 
ledge and  with  spiritual  understanding — 
that  the  travail  of  his  soul  may  be  blest  to 
the  conversion  of  many  sons  and  daughters 
unto  righteousness — that  he  may  prove  a 
comfort  to  all  your  hearts,  and  a  great  pub- 
lic benefit  to  all  your  families. 


SERMON  XV. 

On  the  Distinction  between  Knowledge  and  Consideration. 

The  ox  knoweth  his  owner,  and  the  ass  his  master's  crib:   but  Israel  doth  not  know,  my  people  doth  no 

consider." — Isaiah  1.  3. 


It  would  appear,  from  this  verse,  that 
the  children  of  Israel  neither  knew  nor  con- 
sidered— but  still  there  is  a  distinction  sug- 
gested by  it  between  these  two  things. 
And  in  the  book  of  the  prophet  Malachi, 
we  have  a  similar  distinction,  when  the 
Lord  says  to  the  priests,  "  If  ye  will  not 
hear,  and  if  ye  will  not  lay  it  to  heart."  It 
is,  in  fact,  possible  for  a  man  to  do  one  of 
these  things,  and  not  to  do  the  other.  He 
may  know  the  truth,  and  yet  he  may  not 
consider  it.  He  may  hear,  and  yet  not  lay 
to  heart.  Nay,  he  may  have  heard  of  a 
particular  doctrine  so  often  as  to  have  got 
it  by  heart,  without  ever  laying  it  to  heart. 
And  this,  we  hold,  to  be  the  just  and  the 
applicable  complaint  that  may  be  uttered  of 
many  professing  Christians  in  our  day. 

And  thus  it  is,  that  we  may  gather  the 
difference  which  there  is  between  know- 
ledge and  wisdom.  The  one  is  a  specu- 
lative acquirement.  The  other  is  a  practi- 
cal faculty  or  habit.  By  the  latter,  we  turn 
to  its  right  and  profitable  use  the  former. 
Thus  it  is,  that  there  may  be  great  folly 
along  with  great  scholarship ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  may  an  unlettered  mind  be  il- 
lustrious in  wisdom.  You  have,  perhaps, 
seen  when  there  was  great  wealth,  and  yet, 
from  the  want  of  judicious  management, 


great  want  of  comfort  in  a  family ;  and 
what  stands  in  fine  and  beautiful  contrast 
with  this,  you  may  have  witnessed  the  union 
of  very  humble  means,  with  such  a  skill 
and  consideration  in  the  guidance  of  them, 
as  to  have  yielded  a  respectable  appearance, 
and  a  decent  hospitality,  and  the  sufficien- 
cy of  a  full  and  regular  provision.  And  so, 
with  the  treasures  of  intellect,  the  acquisi- 
tions of  the  mind,  whereof  one  may  be  rich, 
being  possessed  of  most  ample  materials  in 
all  knowledge  and  information,  and  yet 
have  an  ill-conditioned  mind  notwithstand- 
ing; and  another  destitute  of  all  but  the 
most  common  and  elementary  truths,  may 
yet,  by  a  wise  application  of  them,  have 
attained  to  the  true  light  and  harmony  of 
the  soul,  and  be  in  sound  preparation  both 
for  the  duties  of  time,  and  for  the  delights 
of  eternity. 

All  have  so  learned  to  number  their  days 
as  to  know  the  extreme  limit  of  human 
life  upon  earth ;  yet  all  have  not  so  learn- 
ed to  number  their  days  as  to  apply  their 
hearts  unto  wisdom.  They  are  aware  of 
their  latter  end,  but  they  consider  not  their 
latter  end. 

I.  This  distinction  between  knowledge 
and  wisdom,  is  abundautly  realized  even 
on  the  field  of  earthly  and  of  sensible  ex- 


XV.] 


DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  KNOWLEDGE  AND   CONSIDERATION. 


351 


pericneo.  The  man  of  dissipation  may 
have  his  eyes  open  to  the  ruin  of  character 
and  of  fortune  that  awaits  him,  yet  the 
tyranny  of  his  evil  desires  constrains  him 
to  a  perseverance  in  the  ways  of  wretched- 
ness. The  man  of  indolence  may  foresee 
the  coming  bankruptcy  that  will  ensue  on 
the  slovenly  management  of  his  affairs,  yet 
there  is  a  lethargy  within  that  weighs  him 
down  to  fatal  inactivity.  The  man  of 
prone  and  headlong  irritation,  may  be 
able  to  discern  the  accumulating  mischief 
that  he  raises  against  himself  in  the  hos- 
tility of  those  who  are  around  him,  and 
may  even  look  forward  to  the  time  when, 
deserted  by  the  friendship  of  all,  he  shall 
live  a  neglected  outcast  from  all  human  com- 
panionship, yet  continue  as  before  to  be 
hurried  away  by  the  onward  violence  that 
seizes  him.  In  all  these  instances,  there  is 
no  want  of  knowledge  in  possession.  But 
there  is  a  want  of  knowledge  in  use,  or 
knowledge  in  application.  The  unhappy 
man  has  the  truth  of  the  matter  in  his  head. 
But  he  does  not  lay  it  with  the  authority  of 
a  commander  upon  his  practice.  The  pre- 
sent urgency  carries  it  over  all  thought  of  the 
future  consequences.  He  has  received  the 
truth,  but  he  does  not  give  heed  unto  the 
truth.  He  does  not  charge  it  upon  his  at- 
tention, or  give  effectual  warning  of  it  to 
his  fears,  or  to  his  sense  of  prudence  and 
of  interest.  It  is  not  of  his  ignorance  that 
we  complain,  but  of  his  inconsideration. 
And  thus,  apart  from  the  things  of  spiritual 
contemplation  altogether,  and  on  the  mere 
ground  of  every  day  life,  with  its  passions 
and  pursuits  in  this  world,  may  the  distinc- 
tion to  which  we  now  advert,  be  abundantly 
exemplified. 

II.  Hut  what  we  have  now  affirmed, even 
of  those  events  and  consequences  that  take 
place  along  the  journey  of  this  world,  is 
still  more  strikingly  apparent  of  that  great 
event  which  marks  its  termination.  There 
is  not  a  human  creature  of  most  ordinary 
mind,  and  who  hath  overstepped  the  limits 
of  infancy,  that  does  not  know  of  death, 
and  with  whom  it  does  not  rank  among 
the  most  undoubted  of  the  certainties  that 
await  lam.  And  it  is  not  only  that  of  which 
he  is  most  thoroughly  assured  ;  but  it  is 
that  of  which,  in  the  course  of  observation 
and  history,  he  is  most  constantly  remind- 
ed. And  many  are  the  aids  and  the  accom- 
paniments which  might  serve  to  deepen  his 
impression  of  it.  The  horror  of  every  death 
that  he  witnesses  ;  and  the  pathos  of  every 
death  which  he  deplores ;  and  the  distress, 
even  unto  the  measure  of  tragic  sensibility, 
which  is  felt  when  some  tie  of  near  and 
affecting  relationship  is  broken  ;  and  every 
act  of  attendance  on  those  last  obsequies, 
when  acquaintances  meet  to  carry  one  of 
their  number  to  his  grave  ;  and  the  aspect 
of  seriousness  that  gathers   upon    every 


inquiring  neighbourhood,  when  the  word 
spreads  that  some  one  of  their  friends  is 
dying;  and  the  frequency  of  those  funeral 
processions  that  pass  along  our  streets,  and 
so  mingle  the  business  of  death  with  the 
moving  throng  of  the  people  and  the  car- 
riages, which  the  business  of  life  has  press- 
ed into  its  service;  these  are  the  remem- 
brances that  ever  and  anon  hold  up  the 
lesson  of  our  mortality,  and  one  might 
think,  should  effectually  keep  it  from  sink- 
ing for  a  single  hour  into  oblivion.  But 
how  is  it  truly  and  experimentally  ?  That 
death  of  which  we  all  know  so  well,  is  scarce- 
ly ever  in  our  thoughts.  The  momentary 
touch  of  grief,  and  of  seriousness,  where- 
with we  are  at  times  visited,  speedily  goeth 
into  utter  dissipation.  With  as  cheerful  and 
assured  footsteps,  do  we  tread  the  face  of 
this  world,  as  if  it  were  the  scene  of  our 
immortality ;  and  the  latter  end  of  life  is 
totally  unseen  in  the  obscure  and  undefined 
distance  at  which  we  have  placed  it,  on  the 
field  of  our  contemplations.  It  argues  for 
the  strength  of  that  recoil  with  which  nature 
shrinks  from  the  thought  of  its  own  dissolu- 
tion, that  all  these  loud  and  repeated  de- 
monstrations pass  so  unheeded  by — and 
that  walking  though  we  be,  over  the  accu- 
mulated ruins  of  so  many  generations,  we 
nevertheless  will  talk  as  merrily,  and  lift  up 
our  heads  as  securely,  as  though  beings 
who  were  to  live  for  ever.  It  seems  not 
to  work  the  slightest  abatement  in  the 
eagerness  of  man  after  this  world's  in- 
terests, that  a  few  years  will  sweep  them 
utterly  away ;  and  when  we  look  to  the 
busy  engrossment  of  all  his  faculties  with 
the  plans  and  the  pursuits  of  earthliness, 
it  is  but  too  manifest,  that  it  is  one  thing 
to  know  of  death,  and  another  to  consider 
of  it. 

This  heedlessness  of  our  latter  end,  is  of 
a  character  still  more  obstinate  and  incura- 
ble than  any  such  heedlessness  as  we  have 
already  quoted,  of  reputation  or  fortune  in 
the  world.  It  needs  no  impetuous  appetite 
to  overbear  the  thought  of  death  ;  for  in 
the  calm  equanimity  of  many  a  sober  and 
aged  citizen,  you  will  find  him  as  pro- 
foundly asleep  to  the  feeling  of  his  own 
mortality,  as  he  is  to  any  of  the  feelings 
or  instigations  of  licentiousness.  It  needs 
no  overvveighing  indolence  of  tempera- 
ment to  be  all  listless  and  unmoved  by  the 
fears  of  our  coming  death-bed  ;  for  many 
are  to  be  found,  who  consume  every  hour 
in  the  activities  of  business  and  of  daring 
adventure,  without  one  emotion  of  serious- 
ness on  the  awful  catastrophe  that  awaits 
them. 

It  needs  no  imprudence,  or  unguarded 
violence,  to  betray  a  man  into  the  forget- 
ful ikks  of  death  :  for  many  is  the  cool  and 
practised  calculator,  and  many  is  the  sage 
of  tranquil  philosophy,  and  many  is  the 


352 


DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  KNOWLEDGE  AND  CONSIDERATION. 


[sehK. 


craft}'  politician,  who  can  look  far  into  con- 
sequences, and  is  skilled  in  all  the  expe- 
dients of  his  vocation  ;  and  of  whom  it  may 
be  said,  that  the  mind  of  each  is  steeped  in 
the  oblivion  of  death.  We  are  heedless  of 
much  that  is  before  us,  even  in  this  world ; 
but  as  to  its  last  and  closing  scene,  there  is 
a  peculiar  inveteracy  of  heedlessness  that 
we  do  not  have  as  to  any  of  the  other  futu- 
rities of  our  earthly  existence.  Death  is  the 
stepping-stone  between  the  two  worlds ;  and 
so  it  somewhat  combines  the  palpable  of 
matter,  with  the  shadowy  and  the  evanescent 
of  spirit.  It  is  the  gateway  to  a  land  of 
mystery  and  of  silence,  and  seems  to  gather 
upon  it  something  of  the  visionary  charac- 
ter which  the  things  of  faith  have  to  the 
eye  of  the  senses.  It  is  not  a  thing  unseen; 
but  being  an  outlet  to  the  region  of  invisi- 
bles, there  settles  upon  it  a  degree  of  that 
faintness  and  obscurity  wherewith  the  car- 
nal eye  regards  all  that  is  told  of  the  mat- 
ters of  eternity.  And  so,  amid  all  the  va- 
rieties of  temperament  in  our  species,  there 
is  a  universal  heedlessness  of"  death.  It 
seems  against  the  tendency  of  nature  to 
think  of  it.  There  is  an  opposite  bias  that 
ever  inclines  us  away  from  this  dark  con- 
templation, towards  the  warm  and  living 
realities  of  the  peopled  world  around  us. 
The  mind  refuses  to  dwell  on  that  dreary 
abode  of  skulls  and  of  sepulchres,  and  makes 
its  willing  escape  from  all  this  hideous  im- 
agery, to  society,  and  to  business,  and  to  the 
whole  interest  and  variety  of  life.  Instead 
of  some  mighty  impulse  being  required  to 
dispossess  us  of  the  thought,  it  costs  an  ef- 
fort of  unnatural  violence  to  uphold  it  in 
our  bosoms.  The  thing  is  known,  but  it  is 
not  considered :  and  the  giddy  dance  of  life 
is  carried  onwards,  as  if  there  were  no  de- 
stroyer upon  the  way — the  tide  of  human 
existence  is  borne  as  restlessly  along,  as  if 
there  were  no  grave  to  absorb  it. 

This  might  serve  to  convince  us,  how 
unavailing  is  the  mere  knowledge,  even  of 
important  truth,  if  not  accompanied  by  the 
feeling,  or  the  practical  remembrance  of  it. 
The  knowledge,  in  this  case,  only  serves  to 
aggravate  our  folly,  and  to  bring,  on  the 
utter  heedlessness  of  our  lives,  a  more  full 
and  emphatic  condemnation.  And  on  the 
subject  of  death,  we  would  ask,  how  is  it 
that  your  fatal  insensibility  can  be  justified? 
Has  God  left  this  matter  without  a  witness? 
Has  he  not  strewed  the  whole  path  of  your 
existence  in  the  world  with  the  mementos 
of  its  affecting  termination?  Has  he  not 
pointed  the  eye  of  your  experience  to  the 
agonies  of  many  a  death-bed,  and  brought 
it  irresistibly  down  upon  your  convictions, 
that  these  are  the  very  agonies  through 
which  you  have  to  pass?  In  every  death 
of  an  acquaintance  does  he  not  lift  a  voice 
of  warning  unto  yourselves;  and  when 
that  acquaintance  is  a  relative  or  a  friend, 


does  he  not  seek  to  grave  upon  your  soft- 
ened heart  the  lesson  of  mortality  in  cha- 
racters of  deeper  remembrance  ?  Has  he  not 
tried  to  find- access  for  the  truth,  through 
the  varied  avenues  of  feeling,  and  of  obser- 
vation, and  of  conscience?  And  living,  as 
you  do,  in  the  land  of  dying  men,  have  you 
not  seen  enough  of  this  world's  changes  to 
make  the  history  of  your  life  one  continued 
sermon  upon  the  grave  ?  God  has  not  been 
wanting  in  those  demonstrations  of  Provi- 
dence, which  should  have  riveted  a  serious- 
ness upon  your  hearts,  and  transformed  you 
out  of  the  careless,  and  gay,  and  worldly 
creature  that  you  still  are.  We  protest,  by 
the  many  sick-beds  over  which  you  have 
hung,  and  by  the  deaths  which  you  have 
witnessed,  and  by  the  tears  which  you 
have  shed  over  them,  that  you  have  long 
ago  had  enough  to  loosen  your  hold  upon 
earth,  and  to  break  that  accursed  spell  by 
which  you  are  so  bound  to  its  lying  vanities. 
You  have  enough  to  dislodge  from  your 
bosom  the  spirit  of  the  god  of  this  world ; 
and  O !  therefore,  that  you  were  wise,  that 
you  understood  these  things,  that  you  con- 
sidered your  latter  end. 

There  is  no  topic  on  which  the  distinction 
that  there  is  between  knowledge  and  consi- 
deration stands  more  palpably  before  us 
than  that  of  death.  All  are  assured  of  its 
coming,  yet  how  few  so  bethink,  or  so  be- 
stir themselves,  as  to  be  prepared  for  its 
coming.  The  position  which  this  event 
occupies  in  the  line  of  our  existence,  gives 
to  it  a  peculiar  advantage  for  illustrating 
the  distinction  in  question.  It  stands  on 
the  extreme  horizon  of  what  is  sensible, 
and  beyond  it  lie  the  dimness  and  the  mys- 
tery of  an  untrodden  land.  On  this  side  of 
it  are  the  matters  of  experience.  On  the 
other  side  of  it  are  the  matters  of  faith. 
Now,  it  partakes  with  the  one  in  the  cer- 
tainty wherewith  all  must  regard  it ;  and  it 
partakes  with  the  other  in  the  nullity  of  its 
practical  influence,  over  the  vast  majority 
of  our  species.  As  an  object  of  knowledge, 
there  belongeth  to  it  the  assurance  of  a  most 
unquestioned  truth  ;  as  an  object  of  consi- 
deration, there  belongeth  to  it  the  airy  light- 
ness of  a  vain  and  visionary  fable.  It  is 
believed,  but  it  is  not  minded ;  and  while, 
on  the  one  hand,  it  ranks  among  those  expe- 
rimental realities  which  are  most  assuredly 
known,  it,  on  the  other  hand,  ranks  among 
those  illusions  of  the  fancy  which  are  prac- 
tically and  habitually  disregarded.  It  stands 
forthto  the  eye  in  all  the  plainness  of  ocu- 
lar demonstration,  and  yet  with  as  little 
power  as  if  it  were  a  tale  of  necromancy. 
It  is  quite  obvious,  that  in  the  things  of 
faith,  there  is  a  want  of  ascendant  power 
over  the  life  of  man;  and,  to  justify  man, 
this  has  been  ascribed  to  their  want  of  evi- 
dence. But  where  is  the  want  of  evidence 
in  death  ?    This  is  not  a  thing  of  faith,  but 


XV.] 


DISTINCTION  BETWEEN   KNOWLEDGE  AND  CONSIDERATION 


353 


a  thins:  of  observation;  and  makes  it  as 
dear  as  day,  that  even  when  the  evidence 
is  complete  and  irresistible,  the  effect  may 
he  as  utterly  unsubstantial,  as  if  it  were 
a  thing  of  nought.  This  ought  to  alarm 
us.  It  should  lead  us  to  apprehend,  that 
there  was  enough  of  argument,  on  the  side 
even  of  what  is  spiritual  and  unseen,  to  con- 
demn our  indifference  to  it.  If  the  certain- 
ty of  death  do  not  move  us,  it  may  not  be 
the  uncertainty  of  what  is  on  the  other  side 
of  d(  ath,  that  can  account  for  the  sluggish- 
ness of  our  obstinate  and  unmoved  car- 
nality.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  we  can 
sec  an  acquaintance  fall  into  his  grave,  and 
yet  continue  to  live  here,  as  if  this  were 
our  eterpity.  And  does  not  this  make  it 
probable,that  though  that  acquaintance  were 
to  rise  again,  and  to  tell  us  of  the  world  of 
spirits  upon  which  he  had  entered,  we 
should  be  unaffected  as  before  by  the  real 
eternity  that  is  awaiting  us?  Christ  says 
to  us  himself,  that  if  we  believe  not  Moses 
and  the  prophets,  neither  should  we  believe 
though  one  rose  from  the  dead.  This  is 
the  way  in  which  we  meet  the  demand  of 
infidelity,  for  more  of  proof,  and  more  of 
information.  The  fact  is  that  thousands 
have  died  before  us,  and  are  still  dying 
around  us,  and  yet  the  heart  of  man  re- 
mains unvisited  by  any  practical  sense  of 
his  mortality.  And  the  presumption,  there- 
fore, is,  that  though  one  of  these  thousands 
were  to  revive,  and  to  re-appear  amongst 
us,  fraught  with  the  tidings  of  heaven's 
glory,  and  hell's  unutterable  despair,  we 
should  still  keep  our  ground  against  him, 
and  tiic  heart  of  man  be  unvisited  as  before 
by  any  practical  sense  of  his  immortality. 
lot  more  of  evidence  thai  we  want. 
There  is  as  much  as  ought  to  convince 
us  now — and  if  not  convinced,  there  is  as 
much  as  will  condemn  us  afterwards.  The 
of  our  irreligion  is  not  that  we  could 
not  know,  but  thai  we  do  not,  and  will  not 
consider. 

This  i-  a  great  practical  use  to  which  our 
insensibility  about  death  is  capable  of  being 
turn  !.  It  proves,  that  our  insensibility 
about  eternal  things,  may  be  due  to  some- 
thing else  than  to  the  delect  of  that  evidence, 
by  which  they  are  accompanied.  It  cause's 
us  to  perceivfe,  thai  a  truth  may  be  surely 
known,  and  yet  not  be  pondered,  or  not  be 
proceeded  upon.  Sorely  to  know  it  is  one 
thing— seriously  to  reflect  upon  it  is  all- 
ot Ik  r;  and  thus  it  may  be,  that  the  irreligion 
of  the  world  is  due  not  to  the  want  of  a 
satisfying  demonstration  on  God's  part,  for 
this  might  have  excused  us;  but,  to  the 
want  of  right  consideration  on  ours,  and 
this  is  inexcusable. 

III.  Let  us  now  pass  onwards,  then,  to 

the  invisibles  of  faith — to  those  things  which 

do  not,  like  death,  stand  upon  the  confines 

of  the  spiritual  region,  but  are  wholly  within 

45 


that  region,  and  which  man  hath  not  seen 
by  his  eye,  or  heard  by  his  ear— to  the  awful 
realities  that  will  abide  in  deep  and  mysteri- 
ous concealment  from  us,  so  long  as  we  arc 
in  the  body,  and  which  not  till  the  body  is 
dissolved,  will  stand  in  direct  manifestation 
before  us.  This  character  of  unseen  and 
spiritual,  is  not  confined  to  things  future. 
There  are  things  present  which  are  spiritual 
also.  There  is  a  present  Deity,  who  dwelleth 
in  light,  it  is  true,  but  it  is  light  inaccessible 
— who  is  encompassed  with  glory,  but  it  is 
glory  which  we,  in  the  body,  cannot  ap- 
proach unto — who  stands  revealed  to  angels 
and  adoring  spirits;  but  whom  no  man  hath 
seen,  neither  can  see.  He  is  the  King  eter- 
nal and  immortal,  but  he  is  also  the  King 
invisible — who,  though  not  far  from  any 
one  of  us,  is  remote  as  infinity  itself,  from 
the  ken  of  our  earthly  senses — and  shrouded 
in  the  obscurity  of  his  own  unfathomable 
nature,  is  he  so  veiled  and  darkened  from 
all  human  contemplation,  that  w:e  cannot 
behold  him. 

And  yet,  even  of  this  great  Spirit  we  may 
be  said,  in  one  sense,  to  know,  however  lit 
tie  it  is  that  we  may  consider  him.  There 
are  averments  about  God  which  we  have 
long  recognised,  and  ranked  among  our  ad- 
mitted propositions,  though  we  seldom  re- 
cur to  them  in  thought,  and  are  never  ade- 
quately impressed  by  tl*em.  We  know,  or 
think  we  know,  that  dmd  is;  and  that  all 
oilier  existence  is  suspended  upon  his  will; 
and  that,  were  it.  not  for  his  upholding  arm, 
the  whole  of  Nature  would  go  into  dissolu- 
tion; and  that  while  he  sits  in  high  authority 
over  all  worlds,  there  is  not  one  individual 
member  of  his  vast  family,  that  is  overlook- 
ed by  him;  and,  more  particularly,  that  he 
looks  with  the  eye  of  a  wise  and  a  watchful 
judge,  into  every  heart,  and  every  con- 
science; and  that  he  claims  a  right  and  a 
property  in  the  services  of  all  his  creatures: 
and  that  he  is  more  absolutely  the  owner 
and  the  master  of  them  all,  than  is  man  of 
the  machine  that  he  hath  made,  and  to 
whose  touch  all  its  movements  are  subordi- 
nate; and  that  he  is  a  God  of  august  and 
inviolable  sacredness.  in  whose  presence 
evil  cannot  dwell,  and  between  the  sanctity 
of  whose  nature  and  sin.  there  is  a  wide  and 
implacable  enmity  ;  and  that  he  does  not  sit 
in  lofty  and  remote  indifference  to  the  cha- 
racters of  his>  children,  but  takes  deep,  and 
perpetual,  and  most  vigilant  concern  in  them 
all — loving  their  righteousness,  hating  their 
iniquity,  treasuring  their  thoughts,  and  their 
purposes,  and  their  doing,  in  the  hook  of  his 
remembrance;  and  that,  with  a  view  to  the 
manifestation  of  them,  on  that  day,  when 
time  shall  be  no  more,  and  each  of  his  ac- 
countable offspring  shall  have  their  condi- 
tion awarded  to  them  through  eternity — 
when  the  mystery  of  God  shall  be  finished, 
and  the  glory  of  his  attributes  shall  be  made 


354 


DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  KNOWLEDGE  AND  CONSIDERATION.  [SER!K. 


to  shine  forth  at  the  close  and  the  consum- 
mation of  all  things. 

Now,  most  of  these  things  you  know,  or 
profess  to  know.  They  are  recognised  by 
you  as  true  propositions,  and  not  to  have 
them  among  the  articles  of  your  creed, 
would  be  deemed  by  you  as  monstrous  and 
revolting  infidelity.  Most  of  you  would 
shudder  at  the  thought  of  an  atheism,  which 
could  deny  the  existence  of  God,  or  of  a 
blasphemy  that  could  disown  his  govern- 
ment, or  of  a  heresy  that  could  profane  his 
character  by  stripping  it  of  its  truth,  and 
justice,  and  holiness.  So  dear,  in  fact,  are 
your  long-established  notions  of  the  Divini- 
ty, that  you  could  not  bear  them  to  be  med- 
dled with ;  and  would  hold  that  man  to  be 
the  enemy  of  your  repose,  who  should  offer 
to  violate  them.  So  that,  there  do  exist  in 
your  mind  certain  positions  which  regard  a 
Deity,  the  affirmative  of  which  carries  your 
consent,  and  the  denial  of  which  would 
painfully  be  offensive  to  you — and  thus  far 
may  you  be  said  to  know  God,  and  to  be- 
lieve in  him. 

Now,  as  a  proof  how  distinct  this  know- 
ledge of  God  is  from  the  consideration  of 
him,  I  will  venture  to  say,  that  even  the 
first  and  simplest  of  all  these  propositions 
is,  by  many,  unthought  of  for  days  and 
weeks  together.     The  truth,  that  God  is, 
which  all  here  present  would  shudder  to 
deny,  is  out  of  habitw»l  regard,  and  habitual 
remembrance.    It  lies  like  a  forgotten  thing 
in  some  deep  and  latent  depository;  and  as 
to  its  being  brought  forth  of  its  hiding-place, 
for  hourly  use  and  meditation,  this  we  never 
meet  with,  but  among  a  saintly  and  selected 
few,  who  are  indeed  a  very  peculiar  people. 
When  God  is  acknowledged,  we  cannot  lift 
the  charge  of  theoretical  atheism ;  but  when, 
along  with  this,  God  is  unminded,  surely 
then  may  we  lift,  the  charge  of  practical 
atheism.     Now  this  is  the  very  charge  that 
•we  prefer  against  the  vast  majority  of  our 
world,  They  have  a  knowledge  of  God ;  but 
this,  so  far  from  extenuating  their  thought- 
lessness, brings  upon  it  its  most  fearful  ag- 
gravation. It  is  just  because  they  stand  pre- 
eminent among  the  creatures  of  our  world, 
in  the  faculty  of  understanding  God,  that 
they  also  stand  pre-eminent  in  the  crime  of 
their  ungodliness.     It  is  for  this,  that  they 
suffer  in  the  comparison  with  "  the  ox  that 
knoweth  his  owner,  and  the  ass  that  know- 
eth  his  master's  crib;"  and  what  they  have 
learned  of  God,  or  are  capable  of  learning, 
will  bring  upon  their  heedlessness  of  him, 
and  of  his  ways,  its  severest  condemnation. 
It  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  most  fearful  mys- 
teries of  the   human    spirit,  that   a  truth 
which,  of  all  others,  most  intimately  con- 
cerns us,  should  yet,  of  all  others,  be  the 
most  gladly  bidden  away  into  oblivion — 
that,  as  rid  of  an  unwelcome  visitor,  the 
•mind  of  man  is  never  more  at  ease,  or  in  its 


kindred  and  rejoicing  element,  than  when 
God  is  not  in  all  his  thoughts — that  then  it 
is,  when,  as  broken  loose  from  imprison 
ment,  the  heart  revels  in  its  own  desires, 
and  securely  blesses  its  deliverance  from  the 
hateful  presence  of  one  who  constrained  and 
overawed  it — that  the  creature  should  thus 
hide  itself,  as  it  were,  from  the  Creator,  and 
in  virtue  of  his  perpetual  recoil  from  the 
Being  who  formed,  and  who  upholds  him, 
should  so  keep  up  a  perpetual  distance  from 
God — that  wholly  given  over  to  the  idolatry 
of  the  things  that  are  made,  the  Maker 
should,  to  him,  be  little  belter  than  a  non- 
entity, or  a  name;  this  is  the  marvel  of  the 
strange  and  wayward  nature  that  belongs 
to  us,  and  may  well  lead  us  to  apprehend 
the  visitation  upon  it  of  some  sore  leprosy, 
the  shock  of  some  great  and  total  derange- 
ment. 

For  what  truth  of  weightier  import  to  us 
all  than  simply  that  there  is  a  God — that 
all  the  busy  and  unceasing  movements 
around  us  are  suspended  on  the  will  of  a 
living  Sovereign — that  those  mighty  forces 
which  constantly  uphold  the  play  and  the 
mechanism  of  things,  are  not  the  random 
energies  of  Nature  that  is  unconscious;  but 
that  one  sitteth  above,  and  wieldeth  them  all 
at  his  pleasure — that  a  powerful  and  a  pre- 
siding intelligence  hath  originated  all,  and 
overrides  all — and  that  while  our  only  con- 
verse and  concern  are  with  the  near  and  the 
visible,  that  are  on  every  side  of  us,  there  is 
an  unseen  Spirit,  to  whom  belongeth  the 
mastery,  and  with  whom  alone  it  is  that  we 
have  mainly  and  substantially  to  do? 

Now,  how  is  it  that  man  practically  re- 
sponds to  this  real  condition  of  his  being? 
Tell  me,  from  the  intimate  assurances  of 
your  own  conscience,  or  tell  ine,  from  the 
broad  and  palpable  character  that  sits  upon 
the  doings  of  your  acquaintances,  whether 
God  hath  the  ascendency  over  them.  Is 
there,  all  the  day  long,  a  felt  solemnity  on 
your  spirits,  because  of  God,  which  follows 
you  whithersoever  you  go,  and  causes  you 
to  walk  with  him  in  the  world  ?  Or,  are 
you  familiarized  with  the  habit  of  submit- 
ting your  will  to  his  will  ?  Or,  have  you 
ever,  for  an  hour  together,  looked  upon 
yourselves  in  the  light  of  being  the  servants 
of  another,  and  have  accordingly  run  and 
laboured  as  at  the  bidding  of  that  other? 
Or,  utter  strangers  to  this,  do  you  not  walk 
in  the  counsel  of  your  own  heart  ?  Do  you 
not  move  as  independently,  as  if  in  your- 
self it  was  that  you  lived,  and  moved,  and 
had  your  being?  In  the  work  that  you 
prosecute,  and  the  comforts  that  you  enjoy, 
and  even  the  obligations  of  which  you  ac- 
quit yourselves  to  relatives,  and  to  friends, 
is  there  any  fear  of  God  before  your  eyes? 
—and  is  not  the  fear  of  disgrace  from  men, 
a  far  more  powerful  check  upon  your  licen- 
tiousness, than  the  fear  of  damnation  from 


XV.] 


DISTINCTION   BETWEEN  KNOWLEDGE  AND  CONSIDERATION. 


355 


him  who  is  the  judge  and  the  diseerner  of 
men?  The  mind  is  ever  crowded  with 
thoughts,  and  wishes,  and  purposes,  that 
pass  in  busy  succession,  through  its  cham- 
bers of  imagery,  and  minister  the  food  of  its 
unremitting  contemplations.  Tell  me  how 
much  of  God  and  godliness  there  is  in  them 
all.  Turn  the  inward  survey  upon  your- 
selves, and  report  to  us  how  much  of  this 
heavenly  fruit  groweth  and  flourisheth 
there.  O  you  have  but  spied  the  nakedness 
of  the  land— God  is  unto  you  a  wilderness, 
and  your  heart  is  to  him  a  spiritual  desola- 
tion ! 

This  emptiness  of  a  man's  heart  as  to  the 
recognition  of  God,  runs  throughout  the 
whole  of  his  history.  He  is  engrossed  with 
what  is  visible  and  secondary,  and  he  thinks 
no  farther.  The  sense  of  a  present  and  pre- 
siding Deity,  is  habitually  absent  from  his 
soul ;  and  just  because  he  will  not  stir  him- 
self up  to  consideration,  that  he  may  lay 
hold  of  God,  is  he  bounded,  as  if  by  an  im- 
passable limit,  to  earth  and  to  earthliness. 
It  needs  a  force  of  thought  and  of  reflection, 
to  bear  him  across  this  barrier,  which,  whe- 
ther from  indolence,  or  carnality,  or  a  mis- 
giving conscience,  he  does  not  choose  to 
put  into  operation;  and  thus,  does  he  live 
without  God  in  the  world.  When  he  enjoys, 
it  is  without  gratitude.  When  he  labours, 
it  is  without  the  impulse  of  an  obedient 
loyalty.  When  he  admires,  it  is  without 
carrying  the  sentiment  upwardly  unto  hea- 
ven, whence  all  that  is  lovely  on  the  face 
of  our  world,  was  strewn  for  its  embellish- 
ment, and  the  delight  of  its  beholders.  And 
thus,  may  a  traveller  on  his  tour  of  recrea- 
tion, through  some  goodly  land,  be  carried 
forward  from  scene  to  scene,  till  the  whoie 
landscape  of  an  empire  shall  have  passed 
behind  him  like  a  shifting  panorama — and, 
as  he  eyes  the  beauteous  succession  of  ver- 
dant fields,  and  massy  foliage,  and  the  many 
pictures  of  comfort  or  elegance  in  human 
habitations,  and  the  rapid  variety  where- 
with, in  the  speed  and  the  turning  of  his 
movements,  he  is,  at  one  time,  closed  upon 
by  the  limits  of  a  sweet  and  sequestered 
valley,  and,  at  another,  breaks  out  in  full 
and  open  perspective,  on  the  glories  of  half 
a  province;  why,  may  all  the  ecstacy  he 
feels  be  lavished  on  the  spectacles  before 
him,  without  one  thought  of  that  master 
hand,  which  spread  out  the  whole  of  this 
magnificence,  and  poured  the  tide  of  lustre 
over  it.  No  piety  may  mingle  with  this 
contemplation;  and  not  for  the  want  of 
knowledge,  but  the  want  of  thought,  may 
there  lie  as  little  of  God  in  the  eye  of  this 
raptured  enthusiast,  as  in  the  brute  uncon- 
scious gaze  of  the  creature  that  hath  no 
jnderstanding. 

Now,  this  is  God's  controversy  with  man 
.n  the  text.  He  there  complains  of  our 
heedlessness.     He   feels  himself* slighted, 


that  we  so  seldom  think  of  him,  and  that 
he  should  be  thus  neglected  and  set  at 
nought  by  his  own  offspring.  And  this  in- 
consideration  of  ours,  is  matter  of  blame, 
just  because  it  is  a  matter  of  wilfulness. 
Man  has  a  vohmtar)-  control  over  his 
thoughts.  He  can  turn  and  transfer  them 
from  one  object  of  mental  contemplation  to 
another.  He  may  think  of  God  when  he 
chooses.  He  may  recal  his  scattered  im- 
aginations, and  summon  all  that  is  within 
him  to  an  act  of  attendance  upon  God.  He 
may  bid  his  mind  cease  from  its  rambles, 
and  its  reveries,  and  lift  itself  up  to  the 
abode  of  the  Eternal.  He  may  lay  an  ar- 
rest on  the  processes  of  the  inner  man,  and 
say  to  it,  with  authority,  that  now  is  the 
moment  for  an  aspiration,  or  a  solemn  feel- 
ing towards  God.  He  may  repeat  and  mul- 
tiply this  effort  into  a  habit  of  seriousness. 
It  may  mix  itself  in  with  his  ordinary  busi- 
ness. It  may  accompany  him  on  his  walk, 
even  through  the  streets  of  the  crowded 
city.  It  may  season  the  hours  of  his  social 
fellowship ;  and  what,  at  first,  is  difficult, 
and  irregular,  and  rare,  may  thus,  by  dint 
of  perseverance,  settle  down  into  an  habitual 
tendency.  He  may,  at  length,  be  familiar- 
ized to  the  thought  of  God,  as  his  master 
and  his  owner;  and,  at  length,  putting  on 
the  attitude  of  a  daily  and  hourly  obedience, 
as  the  eye  of  a  servant  looketh  towards  his 
master,  so  may  his  eye  be  ever  towards 
God.  This  is  not  the  attitude  of  nature,  but 
it  may  be  tried  and  practised,  and,  at  length, 
effectually  learned.  But  you  will  never 
reach  it,  unless  you  begin ;  you  will  never 
succeed  in  it,  unless  you  persevere.  And, 
therefore,  my  plain  advice  to  you  is,  that 
you  now  set  to  it  in  good  earnest.  Lay  a 
mandate  upon  your  thinking  faculty,  and 
send  it  heavenward  to  God.  There  is  many 
a  useless  moment  that  may  thus  be  turned 
to  account — many  an  idle  "waste  in  our  ex- 
istence, that  may  thus  be  reclaimed  to  sa- 
credness.  This  is  true  spiritual  education 
— the  practice  of  godliness,  instead  of  the 
theory — the  way  of  going  about  it — and  by 
which  the  soul  may,  at  length,  be  disci- 
plined to  the  habit  of  setting  God  always 
before  it. 

It  is  the  absence  of  this  habit  which  con- 
stitutes the  ungodliness  of  man.  There 
cannot  be  a  fouler  provocation  than  that 
man  should  be  satisfied  to  do  without  God  ; 
and  this  is  the  provocation  inflicted  by  all 
who  have  other  cares  and  other  pleasures, 
which  take  up  the  whole  of  their  hearts, 
and  have  no  room  there  for  God  or  for  god- 
liness. Each  of  you  can  best  tell  whether 
you  fall  under  this  description  of  hal  it  and 
of  character.  Is  it  not  the  truth  now,  that 
God  is  scarcely  in  all  your  thoughts? — that 
you  feel  no  encouragement  in  any  of  his 
promises,  neither  do  you  tremble  under  the 
fearfulness  of  his  denunciations  ?  that  you 


356 


DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  KNOWLEDGE  AND  CONSIDERATION. 


[SERM. 


are  otherwise  employed  than  in  the  prose- 
cution of  your  interest  with  him  ?  and  are 
busied  with  plans,  and  objects,  and  antici- 
pations of  your  own,  wherewith  his  will, 
and  his  glory,  have  nothing  to  do?  This  is 
your  guilt.  This,  in  the  estimation  of  hea- 
ve.n's  jurisprudence,  is  the  very  essence  of 
sinfulness.  Quite  consistent,  we  do  admit, 
with  much  to  soften  and  much  most  ho- 
nourably to  signalize  you ;  but  involving 
you  in  the  direct  charge,  that  none  of  you 
understandeth,  and  none  of  you  seeketh  af- 
ter God. 

IV.  But  the  distinction  between  those 
who  only  know,  and  those  who  also  consi- 
der, is  never  more  strongly  marked  than  in 
the  peculiar  doctrines  of  the  Gospel.  And 
fearful  is  the  hazard,  lest  knowledge,  and  it 
alone,  should  satisfy  the  possessor ;  lest  he 
should  settle  down  into  a  treacherous  com- 
placency, because  he  has  made  a  right  ad- 
justment of  the  articles  of  his  creed  ;  lest  he 
count  it  enough,  that  he  has  acquiesced,  at 
all  points,  in  the  orthodoxy  of  the  question ; 
and  so  come  forth  with  a  flaming  Chris- 
tianity, that  lies  more  in  dogmatism  than  in 
devotion,  more  in  a  sturdy  intolerance  of 
error,  than  in  a  true  and  tender  sincerity 
of  heart.  And  the  very  controversies  of  the 
church  have  served  to  foster  this  delusion. 
The  very  quantity  of  debate  and  of  argu- 
ment that  has  been  expended  on  theology, 
leads  to  a  most  hurtful  misconceiving  of  this 
matter.  You  know,  that  the  design  of  ar- 
gument is  to  carry  you  onward  to  a  set  of 
just  and  accurate  convictions.  This,  in 
fact,  is  the  landing  place  to  which  it  brings 
you,  and  at  which  it  leaves  you ;  and  the 
danger  is,  that  having  brought  you  there, 
you  go  no  further — and  this  place  of  arri- 
val becomes  your  place  of  rest,  and  sta- 
tionary residence.  It  is  the  pride,  and  am- 
bition, and  the  zeal  of  every  intellectual 
combatant,  to  carry  the  understanding  of 
his  reader ;  and  having  done  this,  he  is  apt 
to  sit  down  and  be  satisfied  with  the  tri- 
umphs of  his  gotten  victory ;  and  the  scholar 
himself,  seized  with  the  very  same  infection, 
may  sit  down,  too,  as  if  he  had  attained  an 
ultimate  good,  in  which  he  may  rejoice,  and 
where  he  may  now  securely  and  fearlessly 
repose.  And  yet,  the  whole  amount  of  his 
acquisition  may  be  a  mere  notional  Chris- 
tianity— a  list  of  doctrines  that  are  settled 
and  set  by — that  are  as  much  within  the 
grasp  of  his  knowledge  as  many  other  arti- 
cles of  human  speculation  and  science — but 
are  just  as  little  reiterated  upon  as  they  by 
a  habit  of  frequent  and  feeling  consideration. 
And  hence  a  familiar  exhibition  to  all  who 
live  in  this  our  scholastic  land,  where  a 
people,  fresh  from  their  catechisms,  are 
primed  and  charged  with  orthodoxy,  and 
all  whose  articles  stand  before  you  in  well- 
marshalled  and  metaphysical  array — who 
have  a  religion  in  their  heads,  but  that  has 


there  an  almost  exclusive  occupancy— whom 
many  a  stout  defender  of  the  faith  would 
rejoice  in  as  his  own,  but  in  whom  the 
Author  and  the  Finisher  of  faith,  finds  lit- 
tle of  that  love  or  that  obedience  which  to 
him  are  the  alone  tests  of  discipleship — a 
people  whom  none  can  challenge  for  igno- 
rance, but  whose  still  unmortified  tempers, 
and  still  unabated  worldhness,  may  prove, 
that  though  they  do  know,  yet  they  do  not 
consider. 

It  were  well,  if  such  people  could  be  ex- 
tricated from  the  strongholds  of  their  yet 
impregnable  Antinomianism.  It  were  well 
to  alarm  their  conscience  with  the  saying, 
that  no  knowledge  and  no  belief  will  give 
them  justification,  which  does  not  give  sane 
tification  also.  All  their  doctrinal  acquire 
ments  are  precisely  of  as  little  avail  as  is 
the  knowledge  of  death,  if  they  think  not 
of  dying — or,  as  their  knowledge  of  a  God, 
if  they  give  no  earnest  heed  to  him.  It  is 
well  that  they  know ;  but  the  blessing  is 
turned  into  a  condemnation  and  a  curse,  if, 
while  they  know,  they  do  not  consider. 

There  are  no  topics  on  which  there  has 
been  so  much  of  controversy,  or  that  has 
given  rise  to  so  many  an  elaborate  disserta- 
tion, as  the  person  and  offices  of  Christ. 
And,  doubtless,  the  scholarship  has  been 
well  employed,  that  rescued  from  the  en- 
tanglements of  sophistry,  the  precious  truth 
of  the  divinity  of  our  Saviour.  And  well 
may  England  rejoice  in  those  lettered  ec- 
clesiastics, who  have  put  down,  as  far  as 
argument  could  do  it,  the  infidelity  that 
decried  the  truth  of  his  high  and  heavenly 
apostleship.  And  worthier  far  than  all  the 
revenue  of  all  her  colleges,  is  the  return  of 
criticism  and  of  demonstration  that  they 
have  made  in  behalf  of  his  great  sacrifice, 
and  of  his  unchangeable  and  ever-during 
priesthood.  Yet,  let  it  not  be  disguised, 
that  the  knowledge  of  all  these  credentials 
is  one  thing,  and  the  serious,  the  practical 
consideration  of  them,  is  another — that 
many  a  commentator  has  mastered  the  dif- 
ficulties of  the  question,  who  has  not  been 
solemnized  by  the  thought  of  its  urgent  and 
affecting  realities — that  stalled  orthodoxy, 
with  her  clear  understanding,  but  untouched 
heart,  has  often  launched  upon  heresy  her 
mighty  fulminations,  and  manfully  asserted 
the  truth  which  she  never  felt — that  the 
peasant  may  catch  direct  from  his  Bible, 
what  the  dignitary  has  gathered  by  wading 
through  the  erudition  of  distant  centuries ; 
and  this  veriest  babe  in  literature  may  out- 
strip the  literary  giant,  because  he  not  only 
knows  the  truth,  but  wisely  and  duteously 
considers  it. 

Let  us,  in  like  manner,  look  unto  Jesus 
with  the  eye  of  a  plain  Christian,  instead 
of  looking  "at  him  with  the  eye  of  a  pro- 
found critic,  or  commentator.  For  this 
purpos^  let  us  lay  hold  of  things  that  are 


XV.] 


DISTINCTION    BETWEEN  KNOWLEDGE  AND  CONSIDERATION. 


357 


palpably  and  unambiguously  told  of  him, 
and  see  whether,  without  learning  of  him 
that  which  we  do  not  know,  much  might 
not  be  made  by  considering  of  him  that 
which  we  do  know — and  whether,  out  of 
such  materials  of  thought  as  are  within 
reach  of  all,  there  might  not  a  far  more 
solemn  impression  come  upon  the  heart, 
and  a  far  more  powerful  influence  upon  the 
character,  than  are  to  be  witnessed  even 
among  the  most  zealous  and  declared  pro- 
fessors of  our  day. 

First,  then,  he  is  the  Apostle  of  our  pro- 
fession, or  we  profess  him  to  be  our  Apos- 
tle. Let  us  consider  him  as  such.  Let  us 
bethink  ourselves  nf  all  which  this  title  im- 
plies. It  means  one  who  is  sent.  The 
twelve  were  called  apostles,  because  sent  to 
preach  the  Gospel  unto  every  creature. 
And,  in  like  manner,  he  too  is  an  Apostle, 
because  sent  by  his  Father  into  the  world. 
He  came  to  us  from  a  place  of  deep  and 
unknown  mystery — he  traversed  that  do- 
main which  separates  the  land  ef  spirits 
from  the  peopled  and  familiar  land  in  which 
we' dwell — he  burst  upon  our  senses  from 
a  region  where  all  is  invisible — and  far 
more  wonderful  than  if  he  had  been  a  visi- 
tor from  another  planet  than  our  own,  did 
he  light  upon  our  world  from  the  dwelling- 
place  of  him  who  is  the  uncreated  source 
of  all  worlds,  from  the  very  abode  and 
sanctuary  of  the  Eternal.  How  it  ought  to 
move  us  with  awe  at  the  approach  of  such 
.;  messenger,  when  we  think  of  the  glory 
and  the  sacredness  of  his  former  habitation! 
— of  those  ineffable  communions  that  he 
had  with  the  Father  before  the  world  was 
— and  deep  insighl  into  all  those  mysteries 
of  God,  that  are  to  us  unsearchable!  How 
it  ought  to  fasten  upon  it  the  gaze  of  every 
mortal  eye,  that  on  the  shore  of  our  world 
there  has  been  an  arrival  from  the  dark  and 
the  shrouded  infinity  which  lies  beyond  it 
— that,  at  lehgth,  out  of  realms  which  are 
afar,  a  traveller  hath  come;  and  that,  though 
veiled  from  everlasting  in  the  obscurity  of 
a  remote  and  lofty  nature,  he  hath  now 
stood  revealed  to  the  observation  of  human 
senses,  and  poured  forth  an  utterance  that 
can  be  taken  up  by  human  ears! 

And  what,  ought  to  fasten  upon  him  a 
still  more  intense  regard,  he  comes  with  a 
message  to  our  world — he  conies  straight 
from  the  Divinity  himself,  and  charged  by 
him  with  a  special  communication — God 
had  broken  silence,  and  this  great  Apostle 
of  our  profession  was  the  bearer  of  that 
voice  which  speak'th  from  heaven  unto  the 
children  of  men.  It  was  a  thing  of  mighty 
import,  indeed,  thai  there  should  have  been 
an  actual  errand  to  us  from  the  pavilion  of 
the  Almighty's  residence — that  one  fa- 
miliarly acquainted  there  should  have  come 
to  tabernacle  here,  and  to  enter  upon  con- 
verse and  companionship  with  men — that 


he  did  announce  himself,  and  on  satisfying 
credentials,  to  have  been  sent  amongst  us 
from  the  upper  paradise,  with  tidings  that 
he  had  to  deliver,  and  on  a  work  that  had 
been  given  him  to  do.  And  it  ought,  at 
least,  to  make  no  difference,  that,  now  he 
has  returned  to  the  place  from  whence  he 
came.  For  he  left  behind  him  the  records 
of  his  wondrous  embassy — and  the  authen- 
tic and  the  authoritative  voice  of  heaven 
still  speaketh  to  us  there — and  with  our 
hands  upon  the  Bible,  we  are  in  contact 
with  the  very  materials  of  a  communication 
from  the  Deity.  In  the  breast  of  the  God- 
head, there  was  a  motion  and  a  desire  to- 
wards our  species,  and  here  is  the  expres- 
sion of  it — the  very  transcript  of  that  mes- 
sage which  our  Apostle  brought,  and  which 
our  Apostle  left  amongst  us — the  word  that 
actually  came  from  the  secret  place  of  the 
Eternal,  and  is  fraught  with  those  revealed 
things,  which  now  belong  to  us  and  to  our 
children.  I  declare  not  a  novelty  in  your 
hearing.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  which  you 
are  ignorant,  and  which  you  need  to  know. 
But  it  is  a  matter  of  which  you  are  wofully 
heedless,  and  which  you  need  to  consider 
We  do  not  need  to  teach  you  what  is  new. 
But  we  need  to  arrest  you  by  the  sense  of 
what  is  old  and  forgotten.  We  charge 
your  neglect  of  the  Scriptures  of  our  faith 
upon  your  neglect  of  that  great  Apostle, 
who  is  the  Author  and  the  Finisher  of  our 
faith.  By  your  daily  indifference  to  the 
word  that  is  written,  you  inherit  all  the 
guilt,  and  will  come  under  the  very  reckon- 
ing of  those,  who,  in  the  days  of  the  Sa- 
viour, treated  with  neglect  and  indifference, 
the  word  that  was  spoken.  Our  challenge 
against  you  is,  that  the  Bible  is  to  you  a 
thing  of  insipidity — that  it  is  not  desired  by 
you  as  the  aliment  of  your  souls — that 
though  unread  for  days  together,  you  miss 
no  necessary  food,  you  feel  no  vacancy,  you 
^ire  visited  with  no  hunger,  you  can  do  very 
well  without  this  nourishment  of  the  spiri- 
tual life,  and  so  give  reason  to  fear,  that 
within  you  there  is  no  spiritual  principle  to 
sustain.  And  looking  unto  that  of  which 
this  written  document  is  the  memorial,  do 
we  charge  upon  all  who  slight  the  perusal 
of  it,  that  they  trample  into  insignificance  a 
formal  embassy  from  heaven — that  they 
treat  with  contumely  the  messenger  who 
came  thei  ceforth  unto  our  world — that 
God  by  him  has  spoken,  and  they  have 
disregarded — that  the  daily  spectacle  of  the 
Bible  before  their  eyes,  is  a  daily  solicita- 
tion on  the  part  of  Christ  to  be  heard,  and 
by  their  continued  heedlessness  to  which. 
they,  all  their  lives,  set  his  character,  as  an 
Apostle,  utterly  to  scorn. 

The  way  to  repair  this  treatment,  is  forth- 
with to  give  your  diligence  unto  the  book 
—and  to  press  upon  your  moral  sense,  as 
you  open  it,  that  now  you  are  about  to  en- 


358 


DISTINCTION   BETWEEN  KNOWLEDGE  AND  CONSIDERATION-  [sERM. 


ter  into  converse  with  God — and  thus  to 
fix  and  solemnize  your  attention,  while  you 
read  those  words  of  which  Christ  may  be 
called  the  Apostle  or  the  messenger.  The 
act  of  reading  the  Bible,  is  the  act  of  hold- 
ing conference  with  the  Deity — and  while 
this  is  what  all  know,  this  is  what  few  con- 
sider. 

There  is  one  topic  which  stands  con- 
nected with  the  apostleship  of  Christ,  and 
that  stamps  a  most  peculiar  interest  on  the 
visit  which  he  made  to  us  from  on  high. 
He  is  God  manifest  in  the  flesh.  In  the 
character  of  a  man,  hath  he  pictured  forth 
to  us  the  attributes  of  the  Divinity.  He  is 
the  brightness  of  his  Father's  glory,  and 
the  express  image  of  his  person — yet,  in 
virtue  of  the  humanity  wherewith  he  is  in- 
vested, hath  he  offered,  even  to  the  eye  of 
sense,  a  palpable  representation  of  the  God- 
head. "  He  who  hath  seen  me,  hath  seen 
the  Father," — and  we,  by  fastening  our  at- 
tentive regards  upon  his  person  and  history, 
may  gather  the  very  aspect  and  lineaments 
of  the  King  invisible.  That  Being,  who 
had  been  so  long  wrapt  in  profoundest  se- 
crecy from  our  world — that  Being,  whom 
none  could  apprehend,  for  no  eye  of  mortal 
could  carry  him  through  that  dark  and  un- 
trodden interval,  by  which  the  two  regions 
of  sense  and  of  spirit  stand  apart  from  each 
other — the  Being,  who  ever  since  the  en- 
trance of  sin,  had  laid  his  jealous  interdict 
on  the  approaches  of  our  species,  and  with- 
drawn himself  by  a  remote  and  lofty  sepa- 
ration away  from  us — he,  at  length,  broke 
out  from  this  vail  of  deepest  mystery,  and 
in  the  person  of  him  who  is  at  once  his  re- 
presentative and  his  Apostle,  does  he  now 
stand  before  us  in  visible  manifestation. 
And  we,  by  considering  this  Apostle,  learn 
of  God.  By  looking  unto  him,  we  look 
unto  the  likeness  of  our  Creator,  and  we 
become  acquainted  with  him.  In  the 
purity,  and  the  gentleness,  and  the  simple- 
majesty  of  Christ,  do  we  read  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  Deity.  And  O  how  it  con- 
cerns us  to  know,  from  this  narrative  of 
unwearied  well-doing,  that  there  is  so  much 
of  benevolence  in  heaven — that  the  Sove- 
reign who  sits  in  high  authority  there,  is  as 
good  as  he  is  great — that  there  is  a  meek- 
ness to  soften  the  majesty  of  his  nature, 
and  a  compassionate  longing  after  those 
men  whom  the  hand  of  justice  was  lifted 
up  to  destroy — that  even  in  the  holy  of 
holies,  there  dwells  a  tenderness  for  our 
degraded  species — and  could  the  securities 
of  heaven's  throne  only  be  upholden,  that 
there  were  a  good-will  and  a  mercy  on 
high,  ready  to  burst  forth  upon  our  world 
and  to  circulate  at  large  over  all  its  fa- 
milies. 

But  this  leads  us  to  another  topic  of  con- 
sideration, the  priesthood  of  Christ.  The 
atonement  that  he  made  for  sin  has  a  fore- 


most place  in  orthodoxy.  It  is  reiterated 
in  all  our  catechisms.  It  forms  the  burden 
and  the  argument  of  many  a  ponderous 
dissertation.  And  to  the  popular  mind,  too, 
is  it  fully  as  familiar  as  to  the  accomplish- 
ed scholar  in  theology.  Insomuch,  that 
scarcely  an  individual  can  be  met  with, 
even  in  the  humblest  walks  of  society,  who 
does  not  know,  and  who  could  not  tell,  that 
Christ  died  for  the  world.  But  as  we  have 
often  said,  there  is  a  knowledge  without 
consideration.  A  truth  may  be  acquired, 
and  then,  cast  as  it  were  into  some  hidden 
corner  of  the  mind,  may  it  lie  forgotten,  as 
in  a  dormitory.  And  thus  it  fares  with 
many  a  precious  doctrine  of  the  Bible. 
We  learn  it  most  readily  from  the  ques- 
tion-book. We  give  the  vote  to  it  of  our 
most  prompt  and  zealous  affirmative.  We. 
enlist  it  among  the  articles  of  our  creed — 
and  espousing  it  as  our  own  belief,  do  w*^ 
become  partisans,  or  even  advocates  in  itd 
favour.  And  yet  all  this  may  consist  with 
an  entire,  practical  heedlessness— with  a 
deep  torpor  and  unconcern  about  that  truth 
which  may  have  come  to  us  most  abun- 
dantly in  word,  though  not  at  all  in  power. 
The  soul  may  be  habitually  inadvertent  to 
that  as  a  principle,  which  is  most  zeal- 
ously professed,  and  even  contended  for  as 
an  opinion.  And  accordingly,  we  are  told 
by  the  apostle,  of  this  very  doctrine,  that 
Christ  died  for  our  sins  according  to  the 
Scriptures,  how  possible  it  is  for  men  to 
receive  it,  yet  not  to  remember  it — that 
they  may  have  once  committed  it  to  their 
understanding,  as  an  article  of  faith,  with- 
out having  charged  it  upon  their  memory 
as  an  article  of  hourly  and  habitual  recur- 
rence— that  it  may  have  been  consented  to 
by  the  mind,  without  being  dwelt  upon  by 
the  mind— in  which  case,  saj-s  Paul,  you 
have  believed  in  vain  ;  and  just  because 
you  keep  not  in  memory,  or,  rather,  con- 
sider not,  and  call  not  up  to  memory,  that 
which  I  have  preached  unto  you. 

And,  therefore,  would  I  again  bid  you 
consider  him  who  is  the  High  Priest  of 
your  profession.  I  call  upon  you  ever  and 
anon  to  think  of  this  sacrifice— and  to  ward 
off  the  legality  of  nature  from  your  spirits, 
by  a  constant  habit  of  recurrence,  upon 
your  part,  to  the  atonement  that  he  hath 
made,  and  to  the  everlasting  righteousness 
that  he  hath  brought  in.  Without  this,  the 
mind  is  ever  lapsing  anon  into  alienation 
and  distrust — and  the  habitual  jealousy  of 
guilt,  when  not  met,  at  all  times,  by  a  sense 
of  that  blood  which  washes  it  away,  will 
throw  us  back  again  to  our  wonted  distance 
from  God — and  instead  of  breathing  the 
free  air  of  confidence  in  him,  or  rejoicing 
in  the  sunshine  of  his  reconciled  counte- 
nance, there  will  be  a  flaw  of  suspicion  Tn 
all  our  intercourse,  and  instead  of  loving 
him  as  a  friend,  we   shall  still  stand    in 


XV.]  DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  KNOWLEDGE  AND  CONSIDERATION. 


J59 


dread  of  him  as  an  accuser.  There  may 
be  the  occasional  recognition  of  Christ,  and, 
perhaps,  along  with  it  a  gleam  of  light  and 
of  liberty.  Hut  the  general  state  will  be, 
that  of  a  mind  which  is  overcast.  And, 
therefore,  to  keep  all  clear,  and  habitually 
clear,  would  I  advise  a  regular  forthgoing 
of  your  believing  thoughts,  to  the  great 
decease  that  was  accomplished  at  Jerusa- 
lem. I  would  have  you  to  look  unto  Jesus 
Christ,  and  unto  him  crucified,  and  be 
lightened  thereby.  Forget  not  that  for  guilt 
there  has  been  an  appropriate  remedy  pro- 
vided in  the  Gospel — and  the  way  for  you 
to  stand  delivered  from  all  your  fears  of  its 
vengeance  an  1  its  agony,  is  to  think  of  the 
vengeance  that  has  already  been  poured 
out,  and  of  til;;  agony  that  has  already  been 
endured  for  it.  He  very  sure,  that  when 
justice  is  satisfied,  then  mercy,  set  at  large 
from  this  obstruction,  is  free  to  rejoice  over 
you.  And  justice  is  satisfied.  The  suffer- 
ings of  the  garden  and  the  cross,  have  ab- 
sorbed it  all — nor  after  Christ  hath  poured 
out  his  soul  unto  the  death  for  you,  will  it 
seek,  in  the  horrors  of  your  condemned 
eternity,  for  a  double  redress,  and  a  double 
vindication.  O,  come  out  then,  from  the 
prison-house  of  despondency — and,  when 
you  think  of  your  sins,  think  also  of  the 
ransom  which  has  been  paid  for  them.  On 
the  strength  of  this,  do  make  your  resolute 
stand  against  the  spirit  of  bondage — and 
looking,  and  looking  hourly  unto  the  vic- 
tim who  has  already  bled  a  full  expiation, 
do  uphold  yourself  in  the  confidence,  that 
sin  is  made  an  end  of,  that  transgression  is 
finished,  that  reconciliation  for  iniquity  is 
made,  and  that  now  the  believer,  released 
from  captivity,  may  walk  before  God  in  the 
security  and  the  triumph  of  an  everlasting 
righteousness. 

In  other  sacrifices,  the  priest  is  distin- 
guishable from  the  victim.  Here  they  are 
the  -  uit  s.  lb'  was  the  victim  when  dying. 
He  is  tii"  High  Priest,  now  that  he  is  risen 
again.  And  thus  does  lie  still  plead,  in  the 
ear  of  God,  the  offering  that  was  once 
made,  and  the  power  of  which  eiidureth 
continually.  Thai  incense,  with  the  savour 
of  which  God  was  well  pleased,  he  is  at 

all  times  well  pleased  to  be  reminded  of — 
and  only  consider  him  who  fills  his  mouth 
with  this  argument  in  behalf  of  all  who  re- 


pair to  him,  who  can  argue  his  sacrifice  as 
an  adequate  redemption  for  the  chief  of 
sinners,  and  whose  glory  as  a  physician 
and  a  Saviour,  is  most  illustrated,  when  the 
most  desperate  of  offenders  come  unto  him. 
and  are  healed.  It  is  not  enough,  that  you 
have,  at  one  time,  imported  this  into  your 
understanding,  and  given  it  a  place  there 
among  the  articles  of  your  belief.  It  is  by 
keeping  it  in  memory — it  is  by  renewing 
upon  it  your  mental  acts  of  faith  and  de- 
pendence— it  is  by  again  and  again  re- 
pairing to  it — and  looking  habitually  unto 
him  as  your  Intercessor  and  High  Priest, 
even  as  the  children  of  Israel  looked  daily 
to  Jerusalem,  at  the  times  of  their  morning 
and  evening  sacrifice.  It  is  thus,  that 
peace  is  kept  up  in  the  heart— and  it  is 
thus,  that  instead  of  coming  upon  us  at 
starts,  and  in  the  shape  of  a  momentary 
visitation,  it  maintains  the  continuous  flow 
within  us,  of  a  river  that  is  at  once  mighty 
and  inexhaustible.  It  is  thus,  that  this  doc- 
trine of  our  faith,  instead  of  having  only 
once  made  its  entrance  into  our  creed,  is 
used  by  us  at  all  times  as  a  cordial — and 
the  thought  of  Chris!,  as  our  acceptable 
and  all-prevailing  High  Priest,  is  often  pre- 
sent to  the  mind,  and  always  felt  to  be  pre- 
cious. 

And  never  forget  that  the  way  to  main- 
tain peace  of  conscience,  is  also  the  way  to 
maintain  purity  of  character.  This  is  a 
mystery  of  the  Christian  life  which  the 
world  apprehendeth  not — and  yet  so  real- 
ized, we  think,  by  universal  experience, 
that  never  do  we  reckon,  in  the  history  of 
the  church,  or  in  any  of  its  members,  had 
wilful  sin  place  at  the  same  time  along 
with  a  full  exercise  of  faith  on  the  testi- 
mony of  God.  It  is  peace  in  the  conscience, 
in  fact,  that  keeps  up  love  in  the  heart.  It 
is  this  which,  by  putting  joy,  and  hope, 
and  confidence  in  the  bosom,  furnishes  the 
soul  with  the  most  powerful  springs  of 
obedience.  It  is  this  which  awakens  grati- 
tude  in  the  bosom,  that  ere  now  was  beset 
with  the  cold  distractions  of  legality;  and 
under  the  constraining  influence  of  the 
love  of  Christ,  is  it  ever  found,  that  the 
most  joyful  believer  is  also  the  most  fruit- 
ful believer,  living  no  longer  to  himself,  but 
to  Christ  who  died  for  him.  and  who  rose 
again. 


DISCOURSES 


ON 


THE  CHRISTIAN  REVELATION, 


VIEWED  IN  CONNEXION  WITH 


THE  MODERN  ASTRONOMY. 


PREFACE. 


The  astronomical  objection  against  the  truth  of  the  Gospel  does  not  occupy  a 
very  prominent  place  in  any  of  our  Treatises  of  Infidelity.  It  is  often,  however, 
met  with  in  conversation — and  we  have  known  it  to  be  the  cause  of  serious 
perplexity  and  alarm  in  minds  anxious  for  the  solid  establishment  of  their  re- 
ligious faith. 

There  is  an  imposing  splendour  in  the  science  of  astronomy ;  and  it  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at,  if  the  light  it  throws,  or  appears  to  throw,  over  other  tracks  of 
speculation  than  those  which  are  properly  its  own,  should  at  times  dazzle  and 
mislead  an  inquirer.  On  this  account  we  think  it  were  a  service  to  what  we 
deem  a  true  and  a  righteous  cause,  could  we  succeed  in  dissipating  this  illusion ; 
and  in  stripping  Infidelity  of  those  pretensions  to  enlargement,  and  to  a  certain 
air  of  philosophical  greatness,  by  which  it  has  often  become  so  destructively 
alluring  to  the  young,  and  the  ardent,  and  the  ambitious. 

In  my  first  Discourse,  I  have  attempted  a  sketch  of  the  Modern  Astronomy — 
nor  have  I  wished  to  throw  any  disguise  over  that  comparative  littleness  which 
belongs  to  our  planet,  and  which  gives  to  the  argument  of  Freethinkers  all  its 
plausibility. 

This  argument  involves  in  it  an  assertion  and  an  inference.  The  assertion  is, 
that  Christianity  is  a  religion  which  professes  to  be  designed  for  the  single  benefit 
of  our  world  ;  and  the  inference  is,  that  God  cannot  be  the  author  of  this  religion, 
for  he  would  not  lavish  on  so  insignificant  a  field,  such  peculiar  and  such  dis- 
tinguishing attentions  as  are  ascribed  to  him  in  the  Old  and  New  Testament. 

Christianity  makes  no  such  profession.  That  it  is  designed  for  the  single 
benefit  of  our  world,  is  altogether  a  presumption  of  the  Infidel  himself — and 
feeling  that  this  is  not  the  only  example  of  temerity  which  can  be  charged  on 
the  enemies  of  our  faith,  I  have  allotted  my  second  Discourse  to  the  attempt  of  de- 
monstrating the  utter  repugnance  of  such  a  spirit  with  the  cautious  and  enlight- 
ened philosophy  of  modern  times. 

In  the  course  of  this  Sermon  I  have  offered  a  tribute  of  acknowledgment  to 
the  theology  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton ;  and  in  such  terms,  as  if  not  farther  explained, 
may  be  liable  to  misconstruction.  The  grand  circumstance  of  applause  in  the. 
character  of  this  great  man,  is,  that  unseduced  by  all  the  magnificence  of  his  own 
discoveries,  he  had  a  solidity  of  mind  which  could  resist  their  fascination,  and 
keep  him  in  steady  attachment  to  that  book  whose  general  evidences  stamped 
upon  it  the  impress  of  a  real  communication  from  heaven.  This  was  the  sole 
attribute  of  his  theology  which  I  had  in  my  eye  when  I  presumed  to  eulogize  it 


PREFACE.  351 

I  do  not  think,  that,  amid  the  distraction  and  the  engrossment  of  his  other  pur- 
suits, he  has  at  all  times  succeeded  in  his  interpretation  of  the  hook  ;  else  he 
would  never,  in  my  apprehension,  have  abetted  the  leading  doctrine  of  a  sect,  or 
a  system,  which  has  now  nearly  dwindled  away  from  public  observation. 
'  In  my  third  Discourse  I  am  silent  as  to  the  assertion  and  attempt  to  combat  the 
inference  that  is  founded  on  it.  I  insist,  that  upon  all  the  analogies  of  nature  and 
of  providence,  we  can  lay  no  limit  on  the  condescension  of  God,  or  on  the  multi- 
plicity of  his  regards  even  to  the  very  humblest  departments  of  creation  ;  and  that 
it  is  not  for  us,  who  see  the  evidences  of  divine  wisdom  and  care  spread  in  such 
exhaustless  profusion  around,  to  say,  that  the  Deity  would  not  lavish  all  the  wealth 
of  his  woudrous  attributes  on  the  salvation  even  of  our  solitary  species. 

At  this  point  of  the  argument  I  trust  that  the  intelligent  reader  may  be  enabled 
to  perceive  in  the  adversaries  of  the  gospel,  a  twofold  dereliction  from  the  maxims 
of  the  Baconian  philosophy  ;  that,  in  the  first  instance,  the  assertion  which  forms  the 
groundwork  of  their  argument,  is  gratuitously  fetched  out  of  an  unknown  region 
where  they  are  utterly  abandoned  by  the  light  of  experience ;  and  that,  in  the  se- 
cond instance,  the  inference  they  urge  from  it,  is  in  the  face  of  manifold  and  unde- 
niable truths,  all  lying  within  the  safe  and  accessible  field  of  human  observation. 

In  my  subsequent  Discourses,  I  proceed  to  the  informations  of  the  record. 
The  infidel  objection,  drawn  from  astronomy,  may  be  considered  as  by  this  time 
disposed  of;  and  if  we  have  succeeded  in  clearing  it  away,  so  as  to  deliver  the 
Christian  testimony  from  all  discredit  upon  this  ground,  then  may  we  submit,  on 
the  strength  of  other  evidences,  to  be  guided  by  its  information.  We  shall  thus 
learn,  that  Christianity  has  a  far  more  extensive  bearing  on  the  other  orders  of 
creation  than  the  infidel  is  disposed  to  allow  ;  and  whether  he  will  own  the 
authority  of  this  information  or  not,  he  will  at  least  be  forced  to  admit,  that  the 
subject  matter  of  the  Bible  itself  is  not  chargeable  with  that  objection  which  he 
has  attempted  to  fasten  upon  it. 

Thus,  had  my  only  object  been  the  refutation  of  the  Infidel  argument,  I  might 
have  spared  the  last  Discourses  of  the  Volume  altogether.  But  the  tracts  of 
Scriptural  information  to  which  they  directed  me,  I  considered  as  worthy  of 
prosecution  on  their  own  account — and  I  do  think,  that  much  may  be  gathered 
from  these  less  observed  portions  of  the  field  of  revelation,  to  cheer,  and  to 
elevate,  and  to  guide  the  believer. 

But,  in  the  management  of  such  a  discussion  as  this,  though  for  a  great  degree 
of  this  effect  it  would  require  to  be  conducted  in  a  far  higher  style  than  I  am 
able  to  sustain,  the  taste  of  the  human  mind  may  be  regaled,  and  its  understanding 
put  into  a  state  of  the  most  agreeable  exercise.  Now,  this  is  quite  distinct  from 
the  conscience  being  made  to  feel  the  force  of  a  personal  application;  nor  could 
I  either  bring  this  argument  to  its  close  in  the  pulpit,  or  offer  it  to  the  general 
notice  of  the  world,  without  adverting,  in  the  last  Discourse,  to  a  delusion  which, 
I  fear,  is  carrying  forward  thousands,  and  tens  of  thousands  to  an  undone  eternity. 

I  have  closed  the  volume  with  an  Appendix  of  Scriptural  authorities.  I  found 
thai  I  could  not  easily  interweave  them  in  the  texture  of  the  Work,  and  have, 
therefore,  thought  fit  to  present  them  in  a  separate  form.  I  look  for  a  twofold 
benefit  from  this  exhibition — first,  on  those  more  general  readers,  who  are 
ignorant  of  the  Scriptures,  and  of  the  riches  and  variety  which  abound  in  them — 
and.  secondly,  on  those  narrow  and  intolerant  professors,  who  take  an  alarm  at  the 
very  sound  and  semblance  of  philosophy,  and  feel  as  if  there  was  an  utter  irre- 
concileable  antipathy  between  its  lessons  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  soundness  and 
piety  of  the  Bible  on  the  other.  It  were  well,  I  conceive,  for  our  cause,  that  the 
latter  could  become  a  little  more  indulgent  on  this  subject ;  that  they  gave  up  a 
portion  of  those  ancient  and  hereditary  prepossessioas,  which  go  so  far  to  cramp 
and  to  enthral  them  ;  that  they  would  suffer  theology  to  take  that  wide  range  of 
argument  and  of  illustration  which  belongs  to  her:  and  that  less,  sensitively 
jealous  of  any  desecration  being  brought  upon  the  Sabbath,  or  the  pulpit,  they 
would  suffer  her  freely  to  announce  all  those  truths,  which  either  serve  to  protect 
Christianity  from  the  contempt  of  science,  or  to  protect  the  teachers  of  Chris- 
46 


362 


A  SKETCH  OF  THE  MODERN  ASTRONOMY. 


[DISC. 


tianity  from  those  invasions  which  are   practised  both  on  the  sacredness  of  the 
office,  and  on  the  solitudes  of  its  devotional  and  intellectual  labours. 

I  shall  only  add,  for  the  information  of  readers  at  a  distance,  that  these 
Discourses  were  chiefly  delivered  on  the  occasion  of  the  week-day  sermon  that 
is  preached  in  rotation  by  the  Ministers  of  Glasgow. 


DISCOURSE  I. 

A  Sketch  of  the  Modern  Astronomy. 

"  When  I  consider  thy  heavens,  the  work  of  thy  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars,  which  thou  hast  or- 
dained ;  What  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him  ?  and  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  visitest  him." 

Psalm  viii.  3,  4. 


In  the  reasonings  of  the  Apostle  Paul, 
we  cannot  fail  to  observe  how  studiously 
he  accommodates  his  arguments  to  the  pur- 
suits, or  principles,  or  prejudices  of  the 
people  whom  he  was  addressing.  He  often 
made  a  favourite  opinion  of  their  own  the 
starting  point  of  his  explanation  ;  and  edu- 
cing a  dexterous  but  irresistible  train  of 
argiiment  from  some  principle  upon  which 
each  of  the  parties  had  a  common  under- 
standing, did  he  force  them  out  of  all  their 
opposition,  by  a  weapon  of  their  own  choos- 
ing— nor  did  he  scruple  to  avail  himself  of 
a  Jewish  peculiarity,  or  a  heathen  super- 
stition, or  a  quotation  from  Greek  poetry, 
by  which  he  might  gain  the  attention  of 
those  whom  he  labored  to  convince,  and 
by  the  skilful  application  of  which  he  might 
"  shut  them  up  unto  the  faith." 

Now,  when  Paul  was  thus  addressing 
one  class  of  an  assembly  or  congregation, 
another  class  might,  for  the  time,  have 
been  shut  out  of  all  direct  benefit  and  ap- 
plication from  his  arguments.  When  he 
wrote  an  Epistle  to  a  mixed  assembly  of 
Christianised  Jews  and  Gentiles,  he  had 
often  to  direct  such  a  process  of  argument 
to  the  former,  as  the  latter  would  neither 
require  nor  comprehend.  Now,  what  should 
have  been  the  conduct  of  the  Gentiles  at 
the  reading  of  that  part  of  the  Epistle  which 
bore  almost  an  exclusive  reference  to  the 
Jews?  Should  it  be  impatience  at  the  hearing 
of  something  for  which  they  had  no  relish  or 
understanding  ?  Should  it  be  a  fretful  dis- 
appointment, because  every  thing  that  was 
said,  was  not  said  for  their  edification? 
Should  it  be  angry  discontent  with  the 
Apostle,  because,  ieaving  them  in  the  dark, 
he  had  brought  forward  nothing  for  them, 
through  the  whole  extent  of  so  many  suc- 
cessive chapters?  Some  of  them  may  have 
felt  in  this  way ;  but  surely  it  would  have 
been  vastly  more  Christian  to  have  sat  with 
meek  and  unfeigned  patience,  and  to  have 
rejoiced  that  the  great  Apostle  had  under- 
taken the  management  of  those  obstinate 


prejudices  which  kept  back  so  many  hu- 
man beings  from  the  participation  of  the 
Gospel.  And  should  Paul  have  had  reason 
to  rejoice,  that,  by  the  success  of  his  argu- 
ments, he  had  reconciled  one  or  any  num- 
ber of  Jews  to  Christianity,  then  it  was  the 
part  of  these  Gentiles,  though  receiving  no 
direct  or  personal  benefit  from  the  argu- 
ments, to  have  blessed  God,  and  rejoiced 
along  with  him. 

Conceive  that  Paul  were  at  this  moment 
alive,  and  zealously  engaged  in  the  work 
of  pressing  the  Christian  religion  on  the 
acceptance  of  the  various  classes  of  society. 
Should  he  not  still  have  acted  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  being  all  things  to  all  men?  Should 
he  not  have  accommodated  his  discussion 
to  the  prevailing  taste,  and  literature,  and 
philosophy  of  the  times?  Should  he  not 
have  closed  with  the  people,  whom  he  was 
addressing,  on  some  favourite  principle  of 
their  own ;  and,  in  the  prosecution  of  this 
principle,  might  he  not  have  got  completely 
beyond  the  comprehension  of  a  numerous 
class  of  zealous,  humble,  and  devoted  Chris- 
tians? Now,  the  question  is  not,  how  these 
would  conduct  themselves  in  such  circum- 
stances ?  but  how  should  they  do  it  ?  Would 
it  be  right  in  them  to  sit  with  impatience, 
because  the  argument  of  the  apostles  contain- 
ed in  it  nothing  in  the  way  of  comfort  or  edi- 
fication to  themselves  ?  Should  not  the  be- 
nevolence of  the  Gospel  give  a  differenl 
direction  to  their  feelings?  And,  instead 
of  that  narrow,  exclusive,  and  monopoliz- 
ing spirit,  which  I  fear  is  too  characteristic 
of  the  more  declared  professors  of  the  truth 
as  it  is  in  Jesus,  ought  they  not  to  be  pa- 
tient, and  to  rejoice  ;  when  to  philosophers, 
and  to  men  of  literary  accomplishment, 
and  to  those  who  have  the  direction  of  the 
public  taste  among  the  upper  walks  of  so- 
ciety, such  arguments  are  addressed  as  may 
bring  home  to  their  acceptance  also,  "  the 
words  of  this  life?"  It  is  under  the  im- 
pulse of  these  considerations,  that  I  have 
with  some  hesitation   prevailed  upon  my 


A  SKETCH  OF  THE  MODERN  ASTRONOMV. 


363 


self  to  attempt  an  argument  which  I  think 
fitted  to  soften  and  subdue  those  prejudices 
which  lie  at  the  bottom  of  what  may  be 
called  the  infidelity  of  natural  science;  if 
possible  to  bring  over  to  the  humility  of  the 
Gospel,  those  who  expatiate  with  delight 
on  the  wonders  and  sublimities  of  creation ; 
and  to  convince  them  that  a  loftier  wisdom 
still  than  that  even  of  their  high  and  hon- 
ourable acquirements,  is  the  wisdom  of  him 
who  is  resolved  to  know  nothing  but  Jesus 
Christ,  and  him  crucified. 

It  is  truly  a  most  Christian  exercise  to 
extract  a  sentiment  of  piety  from  the  works 
and  the  appearances  of  nature.  It  has  the 
authority  of  the  Sacred  Writers  upon  its 
side,  and  even  our  Saviour  himself  gives  it 
the  weight  and  the  solemnity  of  his  exam- 
ple. "  Behold  the  lilies  of  the  field ;  they 
toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin,  yet  your 
heavenly  Father  careth  for  them."  He  ex- 
patiates on  the  beauty  of  a  single  flower, 
and  draws  from  it  the  delightful  argument 
of  confidence  in  God.  He  gives  us  to  see 
that  taste  may  be  combined  with  piety,  and 
that  the  same  heart  may  be  occupied  with 
all  that  is  serious  in  the  contemplations  of 
religion,  and  be  at  the  same  time  alive  to 
the  charms  and  the  loveliness  of  nature. 

The  Psalmist  takes  a  still  loftier  flight. 
He  leaves  the  world,  and  lifts  his  imagina- 
tion to  that  mighty  expanse  which  spreads 
above  it  and  around  it.  He  wings  his  way 
through  space,  and  wanders  in  thought  over 
its  immeasurable  regions.  Instead  of  a  dark 
and  unpeopled  solitude,  he  sees  it  crowded 
yith  splendour,  and  filled  with  the  energy  of 
the  Divine  presence.  Creation  rises  in  its 
immensity  before  him,  and  the  world,  with 
all  which  it  inherits,  shrinks  into  littleness 
at  a  contemplation  so  vast  and  so  overpow- 
ering. He  wonders  that  he  is  not  over- 
looked amid  the  grandeur  and  the  variety 
which  are  on  every  side  of  him,  and  pass- 
ing upward  from  the  majesty  of  nature  to 
the  majesty  of  nature's  Architect,  he  ex- 

*  claims,  "  What  is  man  that  thou  art  mind- 
ful of  him,  or  the  son  of  man  that  thou 
shouldest  deign  to  visit  him?" 

It  is  not  for  us  to  say,  whether  inspira- 
tion revealed  to  the  Psalmist  the  wonders 
*f  the  modern  astronomy.  But  even  though 
he  mind  be  a  perfect  stranger  to  the  sci- 
ence of  these  enlightened  times,  the  heavens 
present  a  great  and  an  elevating  spectacle ; 

-an  immense  concave  reposing  upon  the 
circular  boundary  of  the  world,  and  the  in- 
numerable lights  which  are  suspended  from 
on  high,  moving  with  solemn  regularity 
along  its  surface.  It  seems  to  have  been  at 
night  that  the  piety  of  the  Psalmist  was 
awakened  by  this  contemplation,  when  the 
moon  and  the  stars  were -visible,  and  not 
when  the  sun  had  risen  in  his  strength, 
and  thrown  a  splendour  around  him,  which 
bore  down  and  eenpsed  all  the  lesser  glories 


of  the  firmament  And  there  is  much  in 
the  scenery  of  a  nocturnal  sky,  to  lift  the 
soul  to  pious  contemplation.  That  moon, 
and  these  stars,  what  are  they?  They  are 
detached  from  the  world,  and  they  lift  you 
above  it.  You  feel  withdrawn  from  the  i 
earth,  and  rise  in  lofty  abstraction  above 
this  little  theatre  of  human  passions  and 
human  anxieties.  The  mind  abandons  it- 
self to  reverie,  and  is  transferred,  in  the  ec- 
stacy  of  its  thoughts,  to  distant  and  unexplor- 
ed regions.  It  sees  nature  in  the  simplicity  of 
her  great  elements,  and  it  sees  the  God  of 
nature  invested  with  the  high  attributes  of 
wisdom  and  majesty. 

But  what  can  these  lights  be?  The  cu- 
riosity of  the  human  mind  is  insatiable, 
and  the  mechanism  of  these  wonderful 
heavens  has,  in  all  ages,  been  its  subject 
and  its  employment.  It  has  been  reserved 
for  these  latter  times,  to  resolve  this  great 
and  interesting  question.  The  sublimest 
powers  of  philosophy  have  been  called  to 
the  exercise,  and  astronomy  may  now  be 
looked  upon  as  the  most  certain  and  best 
established  of  the  sciences. 

We  all  know  that  every  visible  object 
appears  less  in  magnitude  as  it  recedes 
from  the  eye.  The  lofty  vessel  as  it  re- 
tires from  the  coast,  shrinks  into  littleness, 
and  at  last  appears  in  the  form  of  a  small 
speck  on  the  verge  of  the  horizon.  The 
eagle  with  its  expanded  wings,  is  a  noble 
object ;  but  when  it  takes  its  flight  into  the 
upper  regions  of  the  air,  it  becomes  less  to 
the  eye,  and  is  seen  like  a  dark  spot  upon 
the  vault  of  heaven.  The  same  is  true  of 
all  magnitude.  The  heavenly  bodies  appear 
small  to  the  eye  of  an  inhabitant  of  this 
earth,  only  from  the  immensity  of  their 
distance.  When  we  talk  of  hundreds  of 
millions  of  miles,  it  is  not  to  be  listened  to 
as  incredible.  For  remember  that  we  are 
talking  of  those  bodies  which  are  scattered 
over  the  immensity  of  space,  and  that  space 
knows  no  termination.  The  conception  is 
great  and  difficult,  but  the  truth  is  unques- 
tionable. By  a  process  of  measurement 
which  it  is  unnecessary  at  present  to  ex- 
plain, we  have  ascertained  first  the  distance, 
and  then  the  maunitude  of  some  of  those 
bodies  which  roll  in  the  firmament;  that 
the  sun,  which  presents  itself  to  the  eye 
under  so  diminutive  a  form,  is  really  a  globe, 
exceedingly  many  thousands  of  times,  the 
dimensions  of  the  earth  which  we  inhabit; 
that  the  moon  itself  has  the  magnitude  of 
a  world  ;  and  that  even  a  few  of  those  stars, 
which  appear  like  so  many  lucid  points  to 
the  unassisted  eye  of  the  observer,  expand 
into  large  circles  upon  the  application  of 
the  telescope,  and  are  some  of  them  much 
larger  than  the  ball  which  we  tread  upon, 
and  to  which  we  proudly  apply  the  denom- 
ination of  the  universe. 

Now,  what  is  the  fair  and  obvious  pre- 


364 


A   SKETCH   OF  THE    MODERN    ASTRONOMY. 


[DISC. 


sumption?  The  world  in  which  we  live, 
is  a  round  ball  of  a  determined  magnitude, 
and  occupies  its  own  place  in  the  firma- 
ment. But  when  we  explore  the  unlimited 
tracts  of  that  space,  which  is  every  where 
around  us,  we  meet  with  other  balls  of  equal 
or  superior  magnitude,  and  from  which  our 
earth  would  either  be  invisible,  or  appear  as 
small  as  any  of  those  twinkling  stars  which 
are  seen  on  the  canopy  of  heaven.  Why 
then  suppose  that  this  little  spot,  little  at 
least  in  the  immensity  which  surrounds  it, 
should  be  the  exclusive  abode  of  life  and  of 
intelligence?  What  reason,  to  think  that 
those  mightier  globes  which  roll  in  other 
parts  of  creation,  and  which  we  have  discov- 
ered to  be  worlds  in  magnitude,  are  not  also 
worlds  in  use  and  in  dignity  ?  Why  should 
we  think  that  the  great  Architect  of  nature, 
supreme  in  wisdom  as  he  is  in  power, 
would  call  these  stately  mansions  into  ex- 
istence, and  leave  them  unoccupied  ?  When 
we  cast  our  eye  over  the  broad  sea,  and  look 
at  the  country  on  the  other  side,  we  see  no- 
thing but  the  blue  land  stretching  obscurely 
over  the  distant  horizon.  We  are  too  far 
away  to  perceive  the  richness  of  its  scenery, 
or  to  hear  the  sound  of  its  population. 
Why  not  extend  this  principle  to  the  still 
more  distant  parts  of  the  universe?  What 
though,  from  this  remote  point  of  observa- 
tion, we  can  see  nothing  but  the  naked 
roundness  of  yon  planetary  orbs  ?  Are  we 
therefore  to  say,  that  they  are  so  many  vast 
and  unpeopled  solitudes;  that  desolation 
reigns  in  every  part  of  the  universe  but 
ours;  that  the  whole  energy  of  the  divine 
attributes  is  expended  on  one  insignificant 
corner  of  these  mighty  works ;  and  that  to 
this  earth  alone  belongs  the  bloom  of  vege- 
tation, or  the  blessedness  of  life,  or  the  dig- 
nity of  rational  and  immortal  existence? 

But  this  is  not  all.  We  have  something 
more  than  the  mere  magnitude  of  the 
planets  to  allege,  in  favour  of  the  idea  that 
they  are  inhabited.  We  know  that  this 
earth  turns  round  upon  itself;  and  we  ob- 
serve that  all  those  celestial  bodies,  which 
are  accessible  to  such  an  observation,  have 
the  same  movement.  We  know  that  the 
earth  performs  a  yearly  revolution  round 
the  sun;  and  we  can  detect  in  all  the 
planets  which  compose  our  system,  a  revo- 
lution of  the  same  kind,  and  under  the  same 
circumstances.  They  have  the  same  suc- 
cession of  day  and  night.  They  have  the 
same  agreeable  vicissitude  of  the  seasons. 
To  them,  light  and  darkness  succeed  each 
other ;  and  the  gaiety  of  summer  is  followed 
by  the  dreariness  of  winter.  To  each  of 
them  the  heavens  present  as  varied  and 
magnificent  a  spectacle;  and  this  earth  the 
encompassing  of  which  would  require  the 
labour  of  years  from  one  of  its  puny  inhabi- 
tants, is  but  one  of  the  lesser  lights  which 
sparkle  in  their  firmament.  To  them,  as  well 


as  to  us,  has  God  divided  the  light  from  the 
darkness,  and  he  lxas  called  the  light  day,  and 
the  darkness  he  has  called  night.  He  has  said 
let  there  be  lights  in  the  firmament  of  their 
heaven,  to  divide  the  day  from  the  night:  and 
let  them  be  for  signs,  and  for  seasons,  and 
for  days,  and  for  years ;  and  let  them  be  for 
lights  in  the  firmament  of  heaven,  to  give 
light  upon  their  earth  ;  and  it  was  so.  And 
God  has  also  made  to  them  great  lights. 
To  all  of  them  he  has  given  the  sun  to  rule 
the  day ;  and  to  many  of  them  has  he  given 
moons  to  rule  the  night.  To  them  he  has 
made  the  stars  also.  And  God  has  set  them 
in  the  firmament  of  heaven,  to  give  light 
unto  their  earth ;  and  to  rule  over  the  day, 
and  over  the  night,  and  to  divide  the  light 
from  the  darkness;  and  God  has  seen  that 
it  was  good. 

In  all  these  greater  arrangements  of  di- 
vine wisdom,  we  can  see  that  God  has  done 
the  same  things  for  the  accommodation  of 
the  planets  that  he  has  done  for  the  earth 
which  we  inhabit.  And  shall  we  say,  that 
the  resemblance  stops  here,  because  we  are 
not  in  a  situation  to  observe  it?  Shall  we 
say,  that  this  scene  of  magnificence  has 
been  called  into  being,  merely  for  the 
amusement  of  a  few  astronomers?  Shall 
we  measure  the  counsels  of  heaven  by  the 
narrow  importance  of  the  human  faculties? 
or  conceive,  that  silence  and  solitude  reign 
throughout  the  mighty  empire  of  nature 
that  the  greater  part  of  creation  is  an  empty 
parade;  and  that  not  a  worshipper  of  the 
Divinity  is  to  be  found  through  the  wide 
extent  of  yon  vast  and  immeasurable  re- 
gions ? 

It  lends  a  delightful  confirmation  to  the 
argument,  when,  from  the  growing  perfec 
tion  of  our  instruments,  we  can  discover  a 
new  point  of  resemblance  between  our 
earth  and  the  other  bodies  of  the  planetary 
system.  It  is  now  ascertained,  not  merely 
that  all  of  them  have  their  day  and  night, 
and  that  all  of  them  have  their  vicissitudes 
of  seasons,  and  that  some  of  them  have 
their  moons  to  rule  their  night  and  allevi- 
ate the  darkness  of  it.  We  can  see  of  one, 
that  its  surface  rises  into  inequalities,  that 
it  swells  into  mountains  and  stretches  into 
valleys ;  of  another,  that  it  is  surrounded 
by  an  atmosphere  which  may  support  th 
respiration  of  animals;  of  a  third,  that 
clouds  are  formed  and  suspended  over  it, 
which  may  minister  to  it  all  the  bloom  and 
luxuriance  of  vegetation ,  and  of  a  fourth, 
that  a  white  colour  spreads  over  its  north- 
ern regions,  as  its  winter  advances,  and 
that  on  the  approach  of  summer  this  white- 
ness is  dissipated — giving  room  to  suppose, 
that  the  element  of  water  abounds  in  it, 
that  it  rises  by  evaporation  into  its  atmos- 
phere, that  it  freezes  upon  the  application 
of  cold,  that  it  is  precipitated  in  the  form  of 
snow,  that  it  covers  the  ground  with  a 


A   SKETCH   OF   THE    MODERN    ASTRONOMY. 


3G5 


fleecy  mantle,  which  melts  away  from  the 
heat  of  a  more  vertical  sun;  and  that  other 
worlds  bear  a  resemblance  to  our  own,  in 
the  same  yearly  round  of  beneficent  and  in- 
teresting changes. 

Who  shall  assign  a  limit  to  the  discove- 
ries of  future  ages?  Who  can  prescribe  to 
science  her  boundaries,  or  restrain  the  ac- 
tive and  insatiable  curiosity  of  man  within 
the  circle  of  his  present  acquirements?  We 
may  guess  with  plausibility  what  we  can- 
not anticipate  with  confidence.  The  day 
may  yet  be  coming,  when  our  instruments 
of  observation  shall  be  inconceivably  more 
powerful.  They  may  ascertain  still  more 
decisive  points  of  resemblance.  They  may 
resolve  the  same  question  by  the  evidence 
of  sense  which  is  now  so  abundantly  con- 
vincing by  the  evidence  of  analogy.  They 
may  lay  open  to  us  the  unquestionable  ves- 
tiges of  art,  and  industry,  and  intelligence. 
We  may  see  summer  throwing  its  green 
mantle  over  these  mighty  tracts,  and  we 
may  see  them  left  naked  and  colourless  af- 
ter the  flush  of  vegetation  has  disappeared. 
In  the  progress  of  years,  or  of  centuries,  we 
may  trace  the  hand  of  cultivation  spreading 
a  new  aspect  over  some  portion  of  a  plan- 
etary surface.  Perhaps  some  large  city, 
the  metropolis  of  a  mighty  empire,  may  ex- 
pand into  a  visible  spot  by  the  powers  of 
some  future  telescope.  Perhaps  the  glass 
of  some  observer,  in  a  distant  age,  may  en- 
able him  to  construct  a  map  of  another 
world,  and  to  lay  down  the  surface  of  it  in 
all  its  minute  and  topical  varieties.  But 
there  is  no  end  of  conjecture,  and  to  the 
men  of  other  times  we  leave  the  full  assu- 
rance of  what  we  can  assert  with  the  high- 
est probability,  that  yon  planetary  orbs  are 
so  many  worlds,  that  they  teem  with  life, 
and  that  the  mighty  Being  who  presides  in 
high  authority  over  this  scene  of  grandeur 
and  astonishment,  has  there  planted  wor- 
shippers of  his  glory. 

Did  the  discoveries  of  science  stop  here, 
we  have  enough  to  justify  the  exclamation 
of  the  Psalmist,  "What  is  man  that  thou 
art  mindful  of  him,  or  the  son  of  man  that 
thou  shouldest  deign  to  visit  him?"  They 
widen  the  empire  of  creation  far  beyond  the 
limits  which  were  formerly  assigned  to  it. 
They  give  us  to  see  that  yon  sun,  throned 
in  the  centre  of  his  planetary  system,  gives 
light,  and  warmth,  and  the  vicissitude  of 
seasons,  to  an  extent  of  surface  several  hun- 
dreds of  times  greater  than  that  of  the  earth 
which  we  inhabit.  They  lay  open  to  us  a 
number  of  worlds,  rolling  in  their  respect- 
ive circles  around  this  vast  luminary — 
and  prove,  that  the  hall  which  we  tread 
upon,  with  all  its  mighty  burden  of  oceans 
and  continents,  instead  ofbeing distin mi isl ml 
from  the  others,  is  among  the  least  of  them  ; 
and,  from  some  of  the  more  distant  planets, 
would  not  occupy  a  more  visible  point  in 


the  concave  of  their  firmament.  They  let 
us  know,  that  though  this  mighty  earth, 
with  all  its  myriads  of  people,  were  to  sink 
into  annihilation,  there  are  some  wrlds 
where  an  event  so  awful  to  us  would  be 
unnoticed  and  unknown,  and  others  where 
it  would  be  nothing  more  than  the  disap- 
pearance of  a  little  star  which  had  ceased 
from  its  twinkling.  We  should  fee)  a  sen 
timent  of  modesty  at  this  just  hut  humili- 
ating representation.  We  should  learn  not 
to  look  on  our  earth  as  the  universe  of 
God,  but  one  paltry  and  insignificant  por 
tion  of  it ;  that  it  is  only  one  of  the  many 
mansions  which  the  supreme  Being  has 
created  for  the  -accommodation  of  his  wor- 
shippers, and  only  one  of  the  many  worlds 
rolling  in  that  flood  of  light  which  the  sun 
pours  around  him  to  the  outer  limits  of 
the  planetary  system. 

But  is  there  nothing  beyond  these  limits? 
The  planetary  system  has  its  boundary,  but 
space  has  none;  and  if  we  wing  our  fancy 
there,  do  we  only  travel  through  dark  and 
unoccupied  regions  ?  There  are  only  five, 
or  at  most  six,  of  the  planetary  orbs  visible 
to  the  naked  eye.  What,  then,  is  that  multi- 
tude of  other  lights  which  sparkle  in  our 
firmament,  and  fill  the  whole  concave  of 
heaven  with  innumerable  splendours  ?  The 
planets  are  all  attached  to  the  sun  ;  and,  in 
circling  around  him,  they  do  homage  to  that 
influence  which  binds  them  to  perpetual 
attendance  on  this  great  luminary.  But  the 
other  stars  do  not  own  his  dominion.  They 
do  not  circle  around  him.  To  all  common 
observation,  they  remain  immoveable  ;  and 
each,  like  the  independent  sovereign  of  his 
own  territory,  appears  to  occupy  the  same 
inflexible  position  in  the  regions  of  immen- 
sity. What  can  we  make  of  them  1  Shall 
we  take  our  adventurous  flight  to  explore 
these  dark  and  untravelled  dominions  ? 
What  mean  these  innumerable  fires  lighted 
up  in  distant  parts  of  the  universe  ?  Are 
they  only  made  to  shed  a  feeble  glimmer- 
ing over  this  little  spot  in  the  kingdom  of 
nature?  or  do  they  serve  a  purpose  wor- 
thier of  themselves,  to  light  up  other  worlds, 
and  give  animation  to  other  systems. 

The  first  thing  which  strikes  a  scientific 
observer  of  the  fixed  stars,  is  their  immea- 
surable distance.  If  the  whole  planetary 
system  were  lighted  up  into  a  globe  of  fire, 
it  would  exceed,  by  many  millions  of  times, 
the  magnitude  of  this  world,  and  yet  only 
appear  a  small  lucid  point  from  the  nearest 
of  them.  If  a  body  were  projected  from  the 
sun  with  the  velocity  of  a  cannon-ball,  it 
would  take  hundreds  of  thousands  of  \  ears 
before  it  described  that  mighty  interval 
which  separates  the  nearest  of  the  fixed 
stars  from  our  sun  and  from  our  system. 
If  this  earth,  which  moves  at  more  than  the 
inconceivable  velocity  of  a  million  and  a 
half  miles  a  day,  were  to  be  hurried  from 


366 


A     SKETCH    OF   THE    MODERN    ASTRONOMY. 


its  orbit,  and  to  take  the  same  rapid  flight 
over  this  immense  tract,  it  would  not  have 
arrived  at  the  termination  of  its  journey, 
after  taking  all  the  time  which  has  elapsed 
since  the  creation  of  the  world.  These  are 
great  numbers,  and  great  calculations,  and 
the  mind  feels  its  own  impotency  in  at- 
tempting to  grasp  them.  We  can  state  them 
in  words.  We  can  exhibit  them  in  figures. 
We  can  demonstrate  them  by  the  powers 
of  a  most  rigid  and  infallible  geometry.  But 
no  human  fancy  can  summon  up  a  lively 
or  an  adequate  conception — can  roam  in  its 
ideal  flight  over  this  immeasureable  large- 
ness— can  take  in  this  mighty  space  in  all 
its  grandeur,  and  in  all  its  immensity — can 
sweep  the  outer  boundaries  of  such  a  crea- 
tion— or  lift  itself  up  to  the  majesty  of  that 
great  and  invisible  arm,  on  which  all  is 
suspended. 

But  what  can  those  stars  be  which  are 
seated  so  far  beyond  the  limits  of  our  plane- 
tary system  ?  They  must  be  masses  of 
immense  magnitude,  or  they  could  not  be 
seen  at  the  distance  of  place  which  they 
occupy.  The  light  which  they  give  must 
proceed  from  themselves,  for  the  feeble  re- 
flection of  light  from  some  other  quarter, 
would  not  carry  through  such  mighty  tracts 
to  the  eye  of  an  observer.  A  body  may  be 
visible  in  two  ways.  It  may  be  visible  from 
its  own  light,  as  the  flame  of  a  candle,  or 
the  brightness  of  a  fire,  or  the  brilliancy  of 
yonder  glorious  sun,  which  lightens  all  be- 
low, and  is  the  lamp  of  the  world.  Or  it 
may  be  visible  from  the  light  which  falls 
upon  it,  as  the  body  which  receives  its  light 
from  the  taper  that  falls  upon  it — or  the 
whole  assemblage  of  objects  on  the  surface 
of  the  earth,  which  appear  only  when  the 
light  of  day  rests  upon  them — or  the  moon, 
which,  in  that  part  of  it  which  is  towards 
the  sun,  gives  out  a  silvery  whiteness  to  the 
eye  of  the  observer,  while  the  other  part 
forms  a  black  and  invisible  space  in  the 
firmament — or  as  the  planets,  which  shine 
only  because  the  sun  shines  upon  them, 
and  which,  each  of  them,  present  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  dark  spot  on  the  side  that  is 
turned  away  from  it.  Now  apply  this  ques- 
tion to  the  fixed  stars.  Are  they  luminous 
of  themselves,  or  do  they  derive  their  light 
from  the  sun,  like  the  bodies  of  our  plane- 
tary system  ?  Think  of  their  immense  dis- 
tance, and  the  solution  of  this  question  be- 
comes evident.  The  sun,  like  any  other 
body,  must  dwindle  into  a  less  apparent 
magnitude  as  you  retire  from  it.  At  the 
prodigious  distance  even  of  the  very  nearest 
of  the  fixed  stars,  it  must  have  shrunk  into 
a  small  indivisible  point.  In  short,  it  must 
have  become  a  star  itself,  and  could  shed  no 
more  light  than  a  single  individual  of  those 
glimmering  myriads,  the  whole  assemblage 
of  which  cannot  dissipate,  and  can  scarce- 
ly alleviate  the  midnight  darkness  of  our 


world.  These  stars  are  visible  to  us,  not 
because  the  sun  shines  upon  them,  but  be- 
cause they  shine  of  themselves,  because 
they  are  so  many  luminous  bodies  scattered 
over  the  tracts  of  immensity;  in  a  word, 
because  they  are  so  many  suns  each  throned 
in  the  centre  of  his  own  dominions,  and 
pouring  a  flood  of  light  over  his  own  por- 
tion of  these  unlimitable  regions. 

At  such  an  immense  distance  for  obser- 
vation, it  is  not  to  be  supposed,  that  we  can 
collect  many  points  of  resemblance  between 
the  fixed  stars,  and  the  solar  star  which 
forms  the  centre  of  our  planetary  system. 
There  is  one  point  of  resemblance,  how- 
ever, which  has  not  escaped  the  penetration 
of  our  astronomers.  We  know  that  our  sun 
turns  round  upon  himself,  in  a  regular  pe- 
riod of  time.  We  also  know,  that  there  are 
dark  spots  scattered  over  his  surface,  which, 
though  invisible  to  the  naked  eye,  are  per- 
fectly noticeable  by  our  instruments.  If 
these  spots  existed  in  greater  quantity  upon 
one  side  than  upon  another,  it  would  have 
the  general  effect  of  making  that  side  darker, 
and  the  revolution  of  the  sun  must,  in  such 
a  case,  give  us  a  brighter  and  a  fainter 
side,  by  regular  alternations.  Now,  there 
are  some  of  the  fixed  stars  which  present  ^ 
this  appearance.  They  present  us  with  pe 
riodical  variations  of  light.  From  the  splen 
dour  of  a  star  of  the  first  or  second  magni- 
tude, they  fade  away  into  some  of  the 
inferior  magnitudes — and  one,  by  becoming 
invisible  might  give  reason  to  apprehend 
that  we  had  lost  him  altogether — but  we 
can  still  recognize  him  by  the  telescope,  till 
at  length  he  re-appears  in  his  own  place, 
and,  after  a  regular  lapse  of  so  many  days 
and  hours,  recovers  his  original  brightness. 
Now,  the  fair  inference  from  this  is,  that 
the  fixed  stars,  as  they  resemble  our  sun  in 
being  so  many  luminous  masses  of  immense 
magnitude,  they  resemble  him  in  this  also, 
that  each  of  them  turns  round  upon  his  own 
axis;  so  that  if  any  of  them  should  have  an 
inequality  in  the  brightness  of  their  sides, 
this  revolution  is  rendered  evident,  by  the 
regular  variations  in  the  degree  of  light 
which  it  undergoes. 

Shall  we  say,  then,  of  these  vast  lumina- 
ries, that  they  were  created  in  vain  ?  Were 
they  called  into  existence  for  no  other  pur- 
pose than  to  throw  a  tide  of  useless  splen- 
dour over  the  solitudes  of  immensity?  Our 
sun  is  only  one  of  these  luminaries,  and  we 
know  that  he  has  worlds  in  his  train.  Why 
should  we  strip  the  rest  of  this  princely  at- 
tendance ?  Why  may  not  each  of  them  be 
the  centre  of  his  own  system,  and  give  light 
to  his  own  worlds  1  It  is  true  that  we  see 
them  not,  but  could  the  eye  of  man  take  its 
flight  into  those  distant  regions,  it  should 
lose  sight  of  our  little  world,  before  it  reached 
the  outer  limits  of  our  system — the  greater 
planets  should  disappear  in  their  turn — be- 


'•1 


A   SKETCH    OF   THE    MODERN    ASTRONOMY. 


367 


fore  it  had  described  a  small  portion  of  that 
abyss  which  separates  us  from  the  fixed 
stars,  the  sun  should  decline  into  ;i  little 
spot,  and  all  its  splendid  retinue  of  worlds 
be  lost  in  the  obscurity  of  distance — he 
should,  at  last,  shrink  into  a  small  indivisi- 
ble atom,  and  all  that  could  be  seen  of  this 
magnificent  system,  should  be  reduced  to 
the  glimmering  of  a  little  star.  Why  resist 
any  longer  the  grand  and  interesting  corij 
elusion  ?  E;ich  of  these  stars  may  be  the 
token  of  a  system  as  vast  and  as  splendid 
as  the  one  which  we  inhabit.  Worlds  roll 
in  these  distant  regions ;  and  these  worlds 
must  be  the  mansions  of  life  and  intelligence. 
.  In  yon  gilded  canopy  of  heaven  we  see  the 
broad  aspect  of  the  universe,  where  each 
shining  point  presents  us  with  a  sun,  and 
each  sun  with  a  system  of  worlds — where 
the  Divinity  reigns  in  all  the  grandeur  of 
his  attributes — where  he  peoples  immensity 
with  his  wonders;  and  travels  in  the  great- 
ness of  his  strength  through  the  dominions 
Df  one  vast  and  unlimited  monarchy. 

The  contemplation  has  no  limits.  If  we 
ask  the  number  of  suns  and  of  systems,  the 
unassisted  eye  of  man  can  take  in  a  thou- 
sand, and  the  best  telescope  which  the 
genius  of  man  has  constructed  can  take  in 
eighty  millions.  Fancy  may  take  its  flight 
far  beyond  the  ken  of  eye  or  of  telescope. 
Shall  we  have  the  boldness  to  say,  that 
there  is  nothing  there — that  the  wonders  of 
the  Almighty  are  at  an  end — that  the  creative 
energy  of  God  has  sunk  into  repose,  be- 
cause the  imagination  is  enfeebled  by  the 
magnitude  of  its  efforts? 

There  are  two  points  of  interesting  spec- 
ulation, both  of  which  serve  to  magnify  our 
conceptions  of  the  universe.  If  a  body  be 
struck  in  the  direction  of  its  centre,  it  ob- 
tains a  progressive  motion,  but  without  any 
movement  of  revolution  being  at  the  same 
time  impressed  upon  it.  But,  again,  should 
the  stroke  not  be  in  the  direction  of  the  cen- 
tre— should  the  line  which  joins  the  point 
of  percussion  to  the  centre,  make  an  angle 
with  that  line  in  which  the  impulse  was  com- 
municated, then  the  body  is  both  made  to  go 
forward  in  space,  also  to  wheel  upon  its  axis. 
Tims,  each  of  our  planets  may  have  had 
their  compound  motion  communicated  to  it 
by  one  single  impulse ;  and,  on  the  other 
band,  if  ever  the  rotatory  motion  be  commu- 
nicated by  one  blow,  then  the  progressive  mo- 
tion must  go  along  with  it.  In  order  to  have 
the  first  motion  without  the  second,  there 
must  be  a  twofold  force  applied  to  the  body 
in  opposite  directions.  It  must  be  set  agoing 
in  the  same  way  as  a  spinning-top,  so  as  to 
revolve  about  an  axis,  and  to  keep  un- 
changed its  situation  in  space. 

But  at  this  stage  of  the  argument,  the 
matter  only  remains  a  conjectural  point  of 
speculation.  The  sun  may  have  had  his 
rotation  impressed  upon  him  by  a  spinning 


impulse ;  or,  this  movement  may  be  coeval 
with  his  being,  and  he  may  have  derived 
both  from  an  immediate  fiat  of  the  Creator. 
But  there  is  an  actually  observed  phenome- 
non of  the  heavens  which  advances  the  con- 
jecture into  a  probability.  In  the  course 
of  age,  the  stars  in  one  quarter  of  the  celes- 
tial sphere  are  apparently  receding  from 
each  other;  and  in  the  opposite  quarter, 
they  are  apparently  drawing  nearer  to  each 
other.  If  the  sun  be  approaching  the  for- 
mer and  receding  from  the  latter,  this  phe- 
nomenon admits  of  an  easy  explanation, 
and  we  are  furnished  with  a  magnificent 
step  in  the  scale  of  the  Creator's  workman- 
ship. In  the  same  manner  as  the  planets, 
with  their  satellites,  revolve  round  the  sun, 
may  the  sun,  with  all  its  tributaries,  be 
moving  in  common  with  other  stars,  around 
some  distant  centre,  from  which  there  ema- 
nates an  influence  to  bind  and  to  subordi- 
nate them  all.  Our  sun  may,  therefore, 
be  only  one  member  of  a  higher  family 
— taking  his  part,  along  with  millions  of 
others,  in  some  loftier  system  of  mechanism, 
by  which  they  are  all  subjected  to  one 
law,  and  to  one  arrangement— describing 
the  sweep  of  such  an  orbit  in  space,  and 
completing  the  mighty  revolution  in  such  a 
period  of  time,  as  to  reduce  our  planetary 
seasons  and  our  planetary  movements,  to  a 
very  humble  and  fractionary  rank  in  the 
scale  of  a  higher  astronomy.  There  is  room 
for  all  this  in  immensity ;  and  there  is  even 
argument  for  all  this  in  the  records  of  actual 
observation ;  and,  from  the  whole  of  this 
speculation,  do  we  gather  a  new  emphasis 
to  the  lesson,  how  minute  is  the  place,  and 
how  secondary  is  the  importance  of  our 
world,  amid  the  glories  of  such  a  surround- 
ing magnificence! 

Another  very  interesting  tract  of  specula- 
tion, has  been  opened  up  to  us  by  the  more 
recent  observations  of  astronomy,  the  dis- 
covery of  the  nebula.  We  allow  that  it  is 
but  a  dim  and  indistinct  light  which  this 
discovery  has  thrown  upon  the  structure  of 
the  universe;  but  still  it  has  spread  before 
the  eye  of  the  mind  a  field  of  very  wide  and 
lofty  contemplation.  Before  this  the  uni- 
verse might  appear  to  have  been  composed 
of  an  indefinite  number  of  suns,  about  equi- 
distant from  each  other,  and  each  encom- 
passed by  such  a  planetary  attendance  as 
takes  place  in  our  own  system.  But,  it  now 
appears  instead  of  lying  uniformly  and  in  a 
state  of  equidistance  from  each  other,  they 
are  arranged  into  distinct  clusters — that, 
in  the  same  manner  as  the  distance  of  the 
nearest  fixed  stars,  marks  the  separation  of 
the  solar  systems,  so  the  distance  of  two 
contiguous  clusters  may  be  so  inconceivably 
superior  to  the  reciprocal  distance  of  those 
fixed  stars  which  belong  to  the  same  cluster, 
as  to  mark  an  equally  distinct  separation  of 
the  clusters,  and  to  constitute  each  of  them 


368 


A   SKETCH    OF    THE    MODERN    ASTRONOMY". 


an  individual  member  of  some  higher  and 
more  extended  arrangement.  This  car- 
ries us  upwards  through  another  ascend- 
ing step  in  the  scale  of  magnificence,  and 
there  leaves  us  wildering  in  the  uncer- 
tainty, whether  even  here  the  wonderful 
progression  is  ended  ;  and  at  all  events  fixes 
the  assured  conclusion  in  our  minds,  that, 
to  an  eye  which  could  spread  itself  over  the 
whole,  the  mansion  which  accommodates 
our  species  might  be  so  very  small  as  to  lie 
wrapped  in  microscopical  concealment;  and. 
in  reference  to  the  only  Being  who  pos- 
sesses this  universal  eye,  well  might  we 
say,  "  What  is  man  that  thou  art  mindful 
of  him,  or  the  son  of  man  that  thou  shouldest 
deign  to  visit  him  ?" 

And,  after  all,  though  it  be  a  mighty 
and  difficult  conception,  yet  who  can  ques- 
tion it  ?  What  is  seen  may  be  nothing  to 
what  is  unseen  ;  for  what  is  seen  is  limited 
by  the  range  of  our  instruments.  What  is 
unseen  has  no  limit ;  and,  though  all  which 
the  eye  of  man  can  take  in,  or  his  fancy  can 
grasp  at,  were  swept  away,  there  might  still 
remain  as  ample  a  field,  over  which  the  Di- 
vinity may  expatiate,  and  which  he  may 
have  peopled  with  innumerable  worlds.  If 
the  whole  visible  creation  were  to  disappear, 
it  would  leave  a  solitude  behind  it — but  to 
the  infinite  Mind,  that  can  take  in  the  whole 
system  of  nature,  this  solitude  might  be 
nothing,  a  small  unoccupied  point  in  that 
immensity  which  surrounds  it,  and  which 
he  may  have  filled  with  the  wonders  of  his 
omnipotence.  Though  this  earth  were  to  be 
burned  up,  though  the  trumpet  of  its  disso- 
lution were  sounded,  though  yon  sky  were 
to  pass  away  as  a  scroll,  and  every  visible 
glory,  which  the  finger  of  Divinity  has  in- 
scribed on  it,  were  to  be  put  out  for  ever— 
an  event  so  awful,  to  us  and  to  every  world 
in  our  vicinity,  by  which  so  many  suns 
would  be  extinguished,  and  so  many  varied 
scenes  of  life  and  of  populatiou  would  rush 
into  forget  fulness — what  is  it  in  the  high 
scale  of  the  Almighty's  workmanship?  a 
mere  shred,  which,  though  scattered  into 
nothing,  would  leave  the  universe  of  God 
one  entire  scene  of  greatness  and  of  majesty. 
Though  this  earth,  and  these  heavens,  were 
to  disappear,  there  are  other  worlds,  which 
roll  afar ;  the  light  of  other  suns  shines  upon 
them ;  and  the  sky  which  mantles  them,  is 
garnished  with  other  stars.  Is  it  presump- 
tion to  say,  that  the  moral  world  extends  to 
these  distant  and  unknown  regions  ?  that 
they  are  occupied  with  people?  that  the 
charities  of  home  and  of  neighbourhood 
flourish  there?  that  the  praises  of  God  are 
there  lifted  up,  and  his  goodness  rejoiced 
in?  that  piety  has  its  temples  and  its  offer- 
ings? and  the  richness  of  the  divine  attri- 
butes is  there  felt  and  admired  by  intelli- 
gent worshippers? 

And  what  is  this  world  in  the  immensity 


which  teems  with  them — and  what  are  they 
who  occupy  it?  The  universe  at  large 
would  suffer  as  little,  in  its  splendour  and 
variety,  by  the  destruction  of  our  planet,  as 
the  verdure  and  sublime  magnitude  of  a 
forest  would  suffer  by  the  fall  of  a  single  leaf. 
The  leaf  quivers  on  the  branch  which  sup-  n* 
ports  it.  It  lies  at  the  mercy  of  the  slightest 
accident.  A  breath  of  wind  tears  it  from  its 
^stem,  and  it  lights  on  the  stream  of  water 
which  passes  underneath.  In  a  moment  of 
time,  the  life  which  we  know,  by  the  micro- 
scope, it  teems  with,  is  extinguished  ;  and. 
an  occurrence,  so  insignificant  in  the  eye  of 
man,  and  on  the  scale  of  his  observation, 
carries  in  it,  to  the  myriads  which  people 
this  little  leaf,  an  event  as  terrible  and  as 
decisive  as  the  destruction  of  a  world.  Now, 
on  the  grand  scale  of  the  universe,  we,  the 
occupiers  of  this  ball,  which  performs  its 
little  round  among  the  suns  and  the  systems 
that  astronomy  has  unfolded — we  may  feel 
the  same  littleness  and  the  same  insecurity. 
We  differ  from  the  leaf  only  in  this  circum- 
stance, that  it  would  require  the  operation 
of  greater  elements  to  destroy  us.  But 
these  elements  exist.  The  fire  which  rages 
within,  may  lift  its  devouring  energy  to  the 
surface  of  our  planet,  and  transform  it  into 
one  wide  and  wasting  volcano.  The  sudden 
formation  of  elastic  matter  in  the  bowels  of 
the  earth — and  H  lies  within  the  agency  of 
known  substances  to  accomplish  this — may 
explode  it  into  fragments.  The  exhalation 
of  noxious  air  from  below,  may  impart  a 
virulence  to  the  air  that  is  around  us;  il  maj 
affect  the  delicate  proportion  of  its  ingre- 
dients; and  the  whole  of  animated  nature 
may  wither  and  die  under  the  malignity  of 
a  tainted  atmosphere.  A  blazing  comet 
may  cross  this  fated  planet  in  its  orbit,  and 
realize  all  the  terrors  which  superstition  has 
conceived  of  it.  We  cannot  anticipate  with 
precision  the  consequences  of  an  event 
which  every  astronomer  must  know  to  lie 
within  the  limits  of  chance  and  probability. 
It  may  hurry  our  globe  towards  the  sun — 
or  drag  it  to  the  outer  regions  of  the  plane- 
tary system  :  or  give  it  a  new  axis  of  revo- 
lution— and  the  effect  which  I  shall  simply 
announce,  without  explaining  it,  would  be 
to  change  the  place  of  the  ocean,  and  bring 
another  mighty  flood  upon  our  islands  and 
continents.  These  are  changes  which  may 
happen  in  a  single  instant  of  time,  and 
against  which  nothing  known  in  the  present 
system  of  things  provides  us  with  any  secu- 
rity. They  might  not  annihilate  the  earth, 
but  they  would  unpeople  it ;  and  we  who 
tread  its  surface  with  such  firm  and  assured 
footsteps,  are  at  the  mercy  of  devouring 
elements,  which,  if  let  loose  upon  us  by  the 
hand  of  the  Almighty,  would  spread  solitude, 
and  silence,  and  death  over  the  dominions  of 
the  world. 

Now  it  is  this  littleness,  and  this  inse- 


II.] 


THE    MODESTY   OF   TRUE   SCIENCE 


369 


curity  which  make  the  protection  of  the 
Almighty  so  dear  to  us,  and  bring,  with 
such  emphasis,  to  every  pious  bosom,  the 
holy  lessons  of  humility  and  gratitude. 
The  God  who  sitteth  above,  and  presides  in 
high  authority  over  all  worlds,  is  mindful 
of  man ;  and,  though  at  this  moment  his 
energy  is  felt  in  the  remotest  provinces  of 
creation,  we  may  feel  the  same  security  in 
his  providence,  as  if  we  were  the  objects  of 
his  undivided  care.  It  is  not  for  us  to  bring 
our  minds  up  to  this  mysterious  agency. 
But,  such  is  the  incomprehensible  fact,  that 
the  same  Being,  whose  eye  is  abroad  over 
the  whole  universe,  gives  vegetation  to 
every  blade  of  grass,  and  motion  to  every 
particle  of  blood  which  circulates  through 
the  veins  of  the  minutest  animal ;  that, 
though  his  mind  takes  into  its  comprehen- 
sive grasp,  immensity  and  all  its  wonders,  I 
am  as  much  known  to  him  as  if  I  were  the 
single  object  of  his  attention  ;  that  he  marks 
all  my  thoughts ;  that  he  gives  birth  to  every 
feeling  and  every  movement  within  me  ;  and 
that,  with  an  exercise  of  power  which  I 
can  neither  describe  nor  comprehend,  the 
same  God  who  sits  in  the  highest  heaven 
and  reigns  over  the  glories  of  the  firma- 
ment, is  at  my  right  hand,  to  give  me  every 
breath  which  I  draw,  and  every  comfort 
which  I  enjoy. 

But  this  very  reflection  has  been  appro- 
priated to  the  use  of  infidelity,  and  the  very 
language  of  the  text  has  been  made  to 
bear  an  application  of  hostility  to  the 
faith.  "  What  is  man,  that  God  should  be 
mindful  of  him,  or  the  son  of  man,  that  he 
should  deign  to  visit  him?"  Is  it  likely, 
says  the  Infidel,  that  God  would  send  his 
eternal  Son  to  die  for  the  puny  occupiers 


of  so  insignificant  a  province  in  the  mighty 
field  of  his  creation?  Are  we  the  befitting 
objects  of  so  great  and  so  signal  an  interpo 
sition?  Does  not  the  largeness  of  that  field 
which  astronomy  lays  open  to  the  view  of 
modern  science,  throw  a  suspicion  over  the 
truth  of  the  gospel  history  ;  and  how  shall 
we  reconcile  the  greatness  of  that  wonderful 
movement  which  was  made  in  heaven  for  the 
redemption  of  fallen  man,  with  the  compara- 
tive meanness  and  obscurity  of  our  species  ? 
This  is  a  popular  argument  against  Chris- 
tianity, not  much  dwelt  upon  in  books,  but, 
we  believe,  a  good  deal  insinuated  in  con- 
versation, and  having  no  small  influence  on 
the  amateurs  of  a  superficial  philosophy. 
At  all  events,  it  is  right  that  every  such 
argument  should  be  met,  and  manfully  con- 
fronted ;  nor  do  we  know  a  more  discredita- 
ble surrender  of  our  religion,  than  to  act  as 
if  she  had  any  thing  to  fear  from  the  inge- 
nuity of  her  most  accomplished  adversaries. 
The  author  of  the  following  treatise  en- 
gages in  his  present  undertaking,  under  the 
full  impression  that  a  something  may  be 
found  with  which  to  combat  Infidelity  in  all 
its  forms  :  that  the  truth  of  God  and  of  his 
message,  admits  of  a  noble  and  decisive 
manifestation,  through  every  mist  which  the 
pride,  or  the  prejudice,  or  the  sophistry  of  man 
may  throw  around  it ;  and  elevated  as  the 
wisdom  of  him  may  be,  who  has  ascended 
the  heights  of  science,  and  poured  the  light 
of  demonstration  over  the  most  wondrous 
of  nature's  mysteries,  that  even  out  of  his 
own  principles,  it  may  be  proved  how  much 
more  elevated  is  the  wisdom  of  him  who 
sits  with  the  docility  of  a  little  child,  to  his 
Bible,  and  casts  down  to  its  authority  all 
his  lofty  imaginations. 


DISCOURSE  II. 


The  Modesty  of  True  Science. 


1  And  if  any  man  think  that  he  knoweth  any  thing,  he  knoweth  nothing  yet  as  he  ought  to  know." 

1   Corinthians  vii.  2. 


There  is  much  profound  and  important 
wisdom  in  that  proverb  of  Solomon,  where 
it  is  said,  that  the  heart  knoweth  its  own  bit- 
terness. It  forms  part  of  a  truth  still  more 
comprehensive,  that  every  man  knoweth  his 
own  peculiar  feelings,  and  difficulties,  and 
trials,  far  better  than  he  can  get  any  of  his 
neighbours  to  perceive  them.  It  is  natural 
to  us  all,  that  we  should  desire  to  engross, 
to  the  uttermost,  the  sympathy  of  others 
with  what  is  most  painful  to  the  sensibili- 
ties of  our  own  bosom,  and  with  what  is 
most  aggravating  in  the  hardships  of  our 
own  situation.  But,  labour  it  as  we  may, 
47 


we  cannot,  with  every  power  of  expression 
make  an  adequate  conveyance,  as  it  were, 
of  all  our  sensations,  and  of  all  our  circum- 
stances, into  another  understanding.  There 
is  a  something  in  the  intimacy  of  a  man's 
own  experience,  which  he  cannot  make  to 
pass  entire  into  the  heart  and  mind  even  of 
the  most  familiar  companion — and  thus  it  is, 
thai  lie  is  so  often  defeated  in  his  attempts 
to  obtain  a  full  and  a  cordial  possession  of 
his  sympathy.  He  is  mortified,  and  he  won- 
ders at  the  obtusenessof  the  people  around 
him — and  how  he  cannot  get  them  to  enter 
into  the  justness  of  his  complainings — nor 


370 


THE    MODESTY    OF   TRUE   SCIENCE. 


[DISC. 


to  feel  the  point  upon  which  turn  the  truth 
and  the  reason  of  his  remonstrances — nor 
to  give  their  interested  attention  to  the  case 
of  his  peculiarities  and  of  his  wrongs — nor 
to  kindle,  in  generous  resentment  along  with 
him,  when  he  starts  the  topic  of  his  indigna- 
tion. He  does  not  reflect,  all  the  while  that, 
with  every  human  being  he  addresses,  there 
is  an  inner  man,  which  forms  a  theatre  of  pas- 
sions, and  of  interests,  as  busy,  as  crowded, 
and  as  fitted  as  hisown  toengross  the  anxious 
and  the  exercised  feelings  of  a  heart,  which 
can  alone  understand  its  own  bitterness,  and 
lay  a  correct  estimate  on  the  burden  of  its 
own  visitations.  Every  man  we  meet,  carries 
about  with  him,  in  the  unperceived  solitude 
of  his  bosom,  a  little  world  of  his  own — and 
we  are  just  as  blind,  and  as  insensible,  and 
as  dull,  both  of  perception  and  of  sympathy 
about  his  engrossing  objects,  as  he  is  about 
ours ;  and,  did  we  suffer  this  observation  to 
have  all  its  weight  upon  us,  it  might  serve 
to  make  us  more  candid,  and  more  consi- 
derate of  others.  It  might  serve  to  abate 
the  monopolizing  selfishness  of  our  nature. 
It  might  serve  to  soften  down  all  the  malignity 
which  comes  out  of  those  envious  contem- 
plations that  we  are  so  apt  to  cast  on  the 
fancied  ease  and  prosperity  which  are 
around  us.  It  might  serve  to  reconcile 
every  man  to  his  own  lot,  and  dispose  him 
to  bear,  with  thankfulness,  his  own  burden  ; 
and  sure  I  am,  if  this  train  of  sentiment 
were  prosecuted  with  firmness,  and  calm- 
ness, and  impartiality,  it  would  lead  to  the 
conclusion,  that  each  profession  in  life  has 
its  own  peculiar  pains,  and  its  own  beset- 
ting inconveniences ;  that,  from  the  very 
bottom  of  society,  up  to  the  golden  pinnacle 
which  blazons  upon  its  summit,  there  is 
much  in  the  shape  of  care  and  of  suffering 
to  be  found — that,  throughout  all  the  con- 
ceiveable  varieties  of  human  condition, 
there  are  trials,  which  can  neither  be  ade- 
quately told  on  the  one  side,  nor  fully  un- 
derstood on  the  other — that  the  ways  of  God 
to  man  are  as  equal  in  this,  as  in  every  de- 
partment of  his  administration — and  that, 
go  to  whatever  quarter  of  human  expe- 
rience we  may,  we  shall  find  how  he  has 
provided  enough  to  exercise  the  patience, 
and  to  accomplish  the  purposes  of  a  wise  and 
a  salutary  discipline  upon  all  his  children. 

I  have  brought  forward  this  observation, 
that  it  may  prepare  the  way  for  a  second. 
There  are  perhaps  no  two  sets  of  human 
beings,  who  comprehend  less  the  move- 
ments, and  enter  less  into  the  cares  and  con- 
cerns of  each  other,  than  the  wide  and  busy 
public  on  the  one  hand  ;  and,  on  the  other, 
those  men  of  close  and  studious  retirement, 
whom  the  world  never  hears  of,  save  when, 
from  their  thoughtful  solitude,  there  issues 
forth  some  splendid  discovery,  to  set  the 
world  on  a  gaze  of  admiration.  Then  will 
the  brilliancy  of  a  superior  genius  draw 


every  eye  towards  it — and  the  homage  paid 
to  intellectual  superiority,  will  place  its  idol 
on  a  loftier  eminence  than  all  wealth  or  than 
all  titles  can  bestow — and  the  name  of  the 
successful  philosopher  will  circulate,  in  his 
own  age,  over  the  whole  extent  of  civilized 
society,  and  be  borne  down  to  posterity 
in  the  characters  of  ever-during  remem- 
brance— and  thus  it  is,  that,  when  we  look 
back  on  the  days  of  Newton,  we  annex  a 
kind  of  mysterious  greatness  to  him,  who, 
by  the  pure  force  of  his  understanding,  rose 
to  such  a  gigantic  elevation  above  the  level 
of  ordinary  men — and  the  kings  and  war- 
riors of  other  days  sink  into  insignificance 
around  him  ;  and  he,  at  this  moment,  stands 
forth  to  the  public  eye,  in  a  prouder  array 
of  glory  than  circles  the  memory  of  all  the 
men  of  former  generations — and,  while  all 
the  vulgar  grandeur  of  other  days  is  now 
mouldering  in  forgetfulness,  the  achieve- 
ments of  our  great  astronomer  are  still  fresh 
in  the  veneration  of  his  countrymen,  and 
they  carry  him  forward  on  the  stream  of 
time,  with  a  reputation  ever  gathering,  and 
the  triumphs  of  a  distinction  that  will  never 
die. 

Now,  the  point  that  I  want  to  impress 
upon  you  is,  that  the  same  public,  who  are 
so  dazzled  and  overborne  by  the  lustre  of 
all  this  superiority,  are  utterly  in  the  dark 
as  to  what  that  is  which  confers  its  chief 
merit  on  the  philosophy  of  Newton.  They 
see  the  result  of  his  labours,  but  they 
know  not  how  to  appreciate  the  difficulty  or 
the  extent  of  them.  They  look  on  the 
stately  edifice  he  has  reared,  but  they  know 
not  what  he  had  to  do  in  settling  the  founda- 
tion which  gives  to  it  all  its  stability — nor 
are  they  aware  what  painful  encounters  he 
had  to  make,  both  with  the  natural  predi- 
lections of  his  own  heart,  and  with  the  pre- 
judices of  others,  when  employed  on  the 
work  of  laying  together  its  unperishing 
materials.  They  have  never  heard  of  the 
controversies  which  this  man,  of  peaceful, 
unambitious  modesty,  had  to  sustain,  with 
all  that  was  proud  and  all  that  was  intole- 
rant in  the  philosophy  of  the  age.  They 
have  never,  in  thought,  entered  that  closet 
which  was  the  scene  of  his  patient  and  pro- 
found exercises — nor  have  they  gone  along 
with  him,  as  he  gave  his  silent  hours  to  the 
labours  of  the  midnight  oil,  and  plied  that 
unwearied  task,  to  which  the  charm  of  lofty 
contemplation  had  allured  him — nor  have 
they  accompanied  him  through  all  the 
workings  of  that  wonderful  mind,  from 
which,  as  from  the  recesses  of  a  laboratory, 
there  came  forth  such  gleams  and  processes 
of  thought  as  shed  an  effulgency  over  the 
whole  amplitude  of  nature.  All  this,  the 
public  have  not  done;  for  of  this  the  great 
majority,  even  of  the  reading  and  cultivated 
public,  are  utterly  incapable;  and  therefore 
is  it,  that  they  need  to  be  told  what  that  is, 


"•J 


THE    MODESTY   OF   TRUE    SCIENCE. 


371 


in  which  the  main  distinction  of  his  philo- 
sophy lies;  that  when  labouring  in  other 
fields  of  investigation,  they  may  know  how 
to  borrow  from  his  safe  example,  and  how  to 
profit  by  that  superior  wisdom  which  mark- 
ed the  whole  conduct  of  his  understanding. 

Let  it  be  understood,  then,  that  they  are 
the  positive  discoveries  of  Newton,  which, 
in  the  eye  of  a  superficial  public,  confer  up- 
on him  all  his  reputation.  He  discovered 
the  mechanism  of  the  planetary  system. 
He  discovered  the  composition  of  light. 
He  discovered  the  cause  of  those  alternate 
movements  which  take  place  on  the  waters 
of  the  ocean.  These  form  his  actual  and 
his  visible  achievements.  These  are  what 
the  world  look  at  as  the  monuments  of  his 
greatness.  These  are  doctrines  by  which 
he  has  enriched  the  field  of  philosophy; 
and  thus  it  is  that  the  whole  of  his  merit  is 
supposed  to  lie  in  having  had  the  sagacity 
to  perceive,  and  the  vigour  to  lay  hold  of 
the  proofs,  which  conferred  upon  these  doc- 
trines all  the  establishment  of  a  most  rigid 
and  conclusive  demonstration. 

But,  while  he  gets  all  his  credit,  and  all 
his  admiration  for  those  articles  of  science 
which  he  has  added  to  the  creed  of  philoso- 
phers, he  deserves  as  much  credit  and  ad- 
miration for  those  articles  which  he  kept 
out  of  his  creed,  as  for  those  which  he  in- 
troduced into  it.  It  was  the  property  of  his 
mind,  that  it  kept  a  tenacious  hold  of  every 
one  position  which  had  proof  to  substanti- 
ate it — but  it  forms  a  property  equally  cha- 
racteristic, and  which,  in  fact,  gives  its 
leading  peculiarity  to  the  whole  spirit  and 
style  of  his  investigations,  that  he  put  a 
most  determined  exclusion  on  every  one 
position  that  was  destitute  of  such  proof. 
He  would  not  admit  the  astronomical  theo- 
ries dl  those  who  went  before  him,  because 
they  had  no  proof.  He  would  not  give  in 
to  their  notions  about  the  planets  wheeling 
their  rounds  in  whirlpools  of  ether — for  he 
did  not  see  this  ether — he  had  no  proof  of 
its  existence — and,  besides,  even  supposing 
it  to  exist,  it  would  not  have  impressed,  on 
the  heavenly  bodies,  such  movements  as 
met  his  observation.  He  would  not  submit 
his  judgment  to  the  reigning  systems  of  the 
day — for,  though  they  had  authority  to  re- 
commend them,  they  had  no  proof:  and 
thus  it  is,  that  he  evinced  the  strength  and 
the  soundness  of  his  philosophy,  as  much 
by  his  decisions  upon  those  doctrines  of  sci- 
ence which  he  rejected,  as  by  his  demon- 
stration of  those  doctrines  of  science,  which 
he  was  the  first  to  propose,  and  which  now 
stand  out  to  the  eye  of  posterity  as  the  only 
monuments  to  the  force  and  superiority  of 
his  understanding. 

He  wanted  no  other  recommendation  for 
any  one  article  of  science,  than  the  recom- 
mendation of  evidence — and,  with  this  re- 
commendation, he  opened  to  it  the  chamber 


of  his  mind,  though  aithority  scowled  upon 
it,  and  taste  was  disgusted  by  it,  and  fashion 
was  ashamed  of  it,  and  all  the  beauteous 
speculation  of  former  days  was  cruelly 
broken  up  by  this  new  announcement  of 
the  better  philosophy,  and  scattered  like 
the  fragments  of  an  aerial  vision,  over 
which  the  past  generations  of  the  world 
had  been  slumbering  their  profound  and 
their  pleasing  reverie.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  should  the  article  of  science  want 
the  recommendation  of  evidence,  he  shut 
against  it  all  the  avenues  of  his  understand- 
ing— aye,  and  though  all  antiquity  lent 
their  suffrages  to  it,  and  all  eloquence  had 
thrown  around  it  the  most  attractive  bril- 
liancy, and  all  habit  had  incorporated  it 
with  every  system  of  every  seminary  in 
Europe,  and  all  fancy  had  arrayed  it  in 
graces  of  the  most  tempting  solicitation; 
yet  was  the  steady  and  inflexible  mind  of 
Newton  proof  against  this  whole  weight  of 
authority  and  allurement,  and,  casting  his 
cold  and  unwelcome  look  at  the  specious 
plausibility,  he  rebuked  it  from  his  presence. 
The  strength  of  his  philosophy  lay  as  much 
in  refusing  admittance  to  that  which  want- 
ed evidence,  as  in  giving  a  place  and  an  oc- 
cupancy to  that  which  possessed  it.  In 
that  march  of  intellect,  which  led  him  on- 
wards through  the  rich  and  magnificent 
field  of  his  discoveries,  he  pondered  every 
step;  and,  while  he  advanced  with  a  firm 
and  assured  movement,  wherever  the  light 
of  evidence  carried  him,  he  never  suffered 
any  glare  of  imagination  or  prejudice  to  se- 
duce him  from  his  path. 

Sure  I  am,  that,  in  the  prosecution  of  his 
wonderful  career,  he  found  himself  on  a 
way  beset  with  temptation  upon  every  side 
of  him.  It  was  not  merely  that  he  had  the 
reigning  taste  and  philosophy  of  the  times 
to  contend  with ;  but,  he  expatiated  on  a 
lofty  region,  where,  in  all  the  giddiness  of 
success,  he  might  have  met  with  much  to 
solicit  his  fancy,  and  tempt  him  to  some 
devious  speculation.  Had  he  been  like  the 
majority  of  other  men,  he  would  have  bro- 
ken free  from  the  fetters  of  a  sober  and 
chastised  understanding,  and,  giving  wing 
to  his  imagination,  had  done  what  philoso- 
phers have  done  after  him — been  carried 
away  by  some  meteor  of  their  own  forming, 
or  found  their  amusement  in  some  of  their 
own  intellectual  pictures,  or  palmed  some 
loose  and  confident  plausibilities  of  their 
own  upon  the  world.  But  Newton  stood 
true  to  his  principle,  that  he  would  take  up 
with  nothing  which  wanted  evidence,  and 
he  kept  by  his  demonstrations,  and  his 
measurements,  and  his  proofs;  and,  if  it  be 
true  that  he  who  ruleth  his  own  spirit  is 
greater  than  he  who  taketh  a  city,  there 
was  won,  in  the  solitude  of  his  chamber, 
many  a  repeated  victory  over  himself,  which 
should  give  a  brighter  lustre  to  his  name 


372 


THE    MODESTY    OF   TRUE    SCIENCE. 


[disc. 


than  all  the  conquests  he  has  made  on  the 
field  of  discovery,  or  than  all  the  splendour 
of  his  positive  achievements. 

I  trust  you  understand,  how,  though  it 
be  one  of  the  maxims  of  the  true  philoso- 
phy, never  to  shrink  from  a  doctrine  which 
has  evidence  on  its  side,  it  is  another  max- 
im, equally  essential  to  it,  never  to  harbour 
any  doctrine  when  this  evidence  is  want- 
ing. Take  these  two  maxims  along  with 
you,  and  you  will  be  at  no  loss  to  explain 
the  peculiarity,  which,  more  than  any  other, 
goes  both  to  characterise  and  to  ennoble 
the  philosophy  of  Newton.  What  I  allude 
to  is,  the  precious  combination  of  its 
strength  and  of  its  modesty.  On  the  one 
hand,  what  greater  evidence  of  strength 
than  the  fulfilment  of  that  mighty  enter- 
prise, by  which  the  heavens  have  been 
made  its  own,  and  the  mechanism  of  un- 
numbered worlds  has  been  brought  within 
the  grasp  of  the  human  understanding? 
Now,  it  was  by  walking  in  the  light  of  a 
sound  and  competent  evidence,  that  all  this 
was  accomplished.  It  was  by  the  patient, 
the  strenuous,  the  unfaltering  application 
of  the  legitimate  instruments  of  discovery. 
It  was  by  touching  that  which  was  tangi- 
ble, and  looking  to  that  which  was  visible, 
and  computing  that  which  was  rrfeasure- 
able,  and  in  one  word,  by  making  a  right 
and  a  reasonable  use  of  all  that  proof  which 
the  field  of  nature  around  us  has  brought 
within  the  limit  of  sensible  observation. 
This  is  the  arena  on  which  the  modern 
philosophy  has  won  all  her  victories,  and 
fulfilled  all  her  wondrous  achievements,  and 
reared  all  her  proud  and  enduring  monu- 
ments, and  gathered  all  her  magnificent 
trophies  to  that  power  of  intellect  with 
which  the  hand  of  a  bounteous  heaven 
has  so  richly  gifted  the  constitution  of  our 
species. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  go  beyond  the 
limits  of  sensible  observation,  and,  from  that 
moment,  the  genuine  disciples  of  this  en- 
lightened school  cast  all  their  confidence 
and  all  their  intrepidity  away  from  them. 
Keep  them  on  the  firm  ground  of  experi- 
ment, and  none  more  bold  and  more  deci- 
sive in  their  announcements  of  all  that  they 
have  evidence  for — but,  off  this  ground, 
none  more  humble,  or  more  cautious  of  any 
thing  like  positive  announcements,  than 
they.  They  choose  neither  to  know,  nor 
to  believe,  nor  to  assert,  where  evidence  is 
wanting;  and  they  will  sit,  with  all  the  pa- 
tience of  a  scholar  to  his  task,  till  they  have 
found  it.  They  are  utter  strangers  to  that 
haughty  confidence  with  which  some  phi- 
losophers of  the  day  sport  the  plausibilities 
of  unauthorised  speculation,  and  by  which, 
unmindful  of  the  limit  that  separates  the 
region  of  sense  from  the  region  of  conjec- 
ture, they  make  their  blind  and  their  im- 
petuous inroads  into  a  province  which  does 


not  belong  to  them.  There  is  no  one  object 
to  which  the  exercised  mind  of  a  true  New- 
tonian disciple  is  more  familiarized  than 
this  limit,  and  it  serves  as  a  boundary  by 
which  he  shapes,  and  bounds,  and  regulates, 
all  the  enterprises  of  his  philosophy.  All 
the  space  which  lies  within  this  limit,  he 
cultivates  to  the  uttermost,  and  it  is  by  such 
successive  labours,  that  every  year  which 
rolls  over  the  world,  is  witnessing  some 
new  contribution  to  experimental  science, 
and  adding  to  the  solidity  and  aggrandize- 
ment of  this  wonderful  fabric.  But,  if  true 
to  their  own  principle,  then,  in  reference  to 
the  forbidden  ground  which  lies .  without 
this  limit,  those  very  men,  who,  on  the  field 
of  warranted  exertion,  evinced  all  the  hardi- 
hood and  vigour  of  a  full  grown  under- 
standing, show,  on  every  subject  where  the 
light  of  evidence  is  withheld  from  them,  all 
the  modesty  of  children.  They  give  you 
positive  opinion  only  when  they  have  in- 
disputable proof — but,  when  they  have  no 
such  proof,  then  they  have  no  such  opinion. 
The  single  principle  of  their  respect  to  truth, 
secures  their  homage  for  every  one  posi- 
tion, where  the  evidence  of  truth  is  present, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  begets  an  entire  dif- 
fidence about  everyone  position,  from  which 
this  evidence  is  disjoined.  And  thus  you 
may  understand,  how  the  first  man  in  the 
accomplishments  of  philosophy,  which  the 
world  ever  saw,  sat  at  the  book  of  nature 
in  the  humble  attitude  of  its  interpreter  and 
its  pupil — how  all  the  docility  of  conscious 
ignorance  threw  a  sweet  and  softening  lus- 
tre around  the  radiance  even  of  his  most 
splendid  discoveries — and,  while  the  flip- 
pancy of  a  few  superficial  acquirements  is 
enough  to  place  a  philosopher  of  the  day 
on  the  pedestal  of  his  fancied  elevation,  and 
to  vest  him  with  an  assumed  lordship  over 
the  whole  domain  of  natural  and  revealed 
knowledge;  I  cannot  forbear  to  do  honour 
to  the  unpretending  greatness  of  Newton, 
than  whom  I  know  not  if  there  ever  lighted 
on  the  face  of  our  world,  one  in  the  charac- 
ter of  whose  admirable  genius  so  much 
force  and  so  much  humility  were  more  at- 
tractively blended. 

I  now  propose  to  carry  you  forward,  by 
a  few  simple  illustrations,  to  the  argument 
of  this  day.  All  the  sublime  truths  of  th 
modern  astronomy  lie  within  the  field  of 
actual  observation,  and  have  the  firm  evi- 
dence to  rest  upon  of  all  that  information 
which  is  conveyed  to  us  by  the  avenue  of 
the  senses.  Sir  Isaac  Newton  never  went 
beyond  this  field,  without  a  reverential  im- 
pression upon  his  mind,  of  the  precarious- 
ness  of  the  ground  on  which  he  was  stand- 
ing. On  this  ground,  he  never  ventured  a 
positive  affirmation — but,  resigning  the  lofty 
tone  of  demonstration,  and  putting  on  the 
modesty  of  conscious  ignorance,  he  brought 
forward  all  he  had  to  say  in  the  humble 


THE    MODESTY    OF    TRUE    SCIENCE. 


373 


form  of  a  doubt,  or  a  conjecture,  or  a  ques- 
tion. But,  what  he  had  not  confidence  to  do, 
other  philosophers  have  done  after  him — 
and  they  have  winged  their  audacious  way 
into  forbidden  regions — and  they  have 
crossed  that  circle  by  which  the  field  of 
observation  is  enclosed — and  there  have 
they  debated  and  dogmatized  with  all  the 
pride  of  a  most  intolerant  assurance. 

Now.  though  the  case  be  imaginary,  let 
us  conceive,  for  the  sake  of  illustration, 
that  one  of  these  philosophers  made  so  ex- 
travaganl  a  departure  from  the  sobriety  of 
experimental  science,  as  to  pass  from  the 
astronomy  of  the  different  planets,  and  to 
attempt  the  natural  history  of  their  animal 
and  vegetable  kingdoms.  He  might  get 
hold  of  some  vague  and  general  analogies, 
to  throw  an  air  of  plausibility  around  his 
speculation.  lie  might  pass  from  the  botany 
of  the  different  regions  of  the  globe  that  we 
inhabit,  and  make  his  loose  and  confident 
application  to  each  of  the  other  planets,  ac- 
cording  to  its  distance  from  the  sun,  and 
the  inclination  of  its  axis  to  the  plane  of  its 
annual  revolution;  and  out  of  some  such 
slender  materials,  he  may  work  up  an 
amusing  philosophical  romance,  full  of  in- 
genuity, and  having,  withal,  the  colour  of 
truth  and  of  consistency  spread  over  it. 

I  can  conceive  how  a  superficial  public 
might  be  delighted  by  the  eloquence  of  such 
a  composition,  and  even  be  impressed  by 
its  arguments;  but  were  I  asked,  which  is 
the  man  of  all  the  ages  and  countries  in 
the  world,  who  would  have  the  least  respect 
for  this  treatise  upon  the  plants  which  grow 
on  the  surface  of  Jupiter,  I  should  be  at  no 
loss  to  answer  the  question.  I  should  say, 
that  it  would  be  he  who  had  computed  the 
motions  of  Jupiter — that  it  would  be  he 
who  had  measured  the  bulk  and  the  density 
of  Jupiter — that  it  would  be  he  who  had 
estimated  the  periods  of  Jupiter — that  it 
would  be  he  whose  observant  eye  and  pa- 
tiently calculating  mind,  had  traced  the 
satellites  of  Jupiter  through  all  the  rounds 
of  their  mazy  circulation,  and  unravelled 
the  intricacy  of  all  their  movements.  He 
would  see  at  once  that  the  subject,  lay  at  a 
hope!  sss  distance  beyond  the  field  of  legiti- 
mate obs  irvation.  It  would  be  quite  enough 
for  him,  that  it  was  beyond  the  range  of 
bis  telescope.  On  this  ground,  and  on  this 
groun  1  only,  would  Ik;  reject  it  as  one  of 
the  puniesl  imbecilities  of  childhood.  As 
to  any  character  of  truth  or  of  importance, 
it  would  have  no  more  effect  on  such  a 
mind  as  that  of  Newton,  than  any  illusion  of 
poetry;  and  from  the  eminence  of  his  intel- 
lectual throne,  would  he  cast  a  penetrating 
glance  at  the  whole  speculation,  and  bid  its 
gaudy  insignificance  away  from  him. 

But  let  us  pass  onward  to  another  ease, 
which,  though  as  imaginary  as  the  former, 
may  still  serve  the  purpose  of  illustration. 


This  same  adventurous  philosopher  may 
be  conceived  to  shift  his  speculation  from 
the  plants  of  another  world  to  the  character 
of  its  inhabitants.  He  may  avail  himself 
of  some  slender  correspondencies  between 
the  heat  of  the  sun  and  the  moral  tempera- 
ment of  the  people  it  shines  upon.  He  may 
work  up  a  theory,  which  carries  on  the  front 
of  it  some  of  the  characters  of  plausibility: 
but  surely  it  does  not  require  the  philoso- 
phy of  Newton  to  demonstrate  the  folly  of 
such  an  enterprise.  There  is  not  a  man  of 
plain  understanding,  who  does  not  perceive 
that  this  said  ambitious  inquirer  has  got 
without  his  reach — that  he  has  stepped  be- 
yond the  field  of  experience,  and  is  now 
expatiating  on  the  field  of  imagination — 
that  he  has  ventured  on  a  dark  unknown, 
where  the  wisest  of  all  philosophy,  is  the 
philosophy  of  silence,  and  a  profession  of 
ignorance  is  the  best  evidence  of  a  solid 
understanding;  that  if  he  thinks  he  knows 
any  thing  on  such  a  subject  as  this,  he 
knoweth  nothing  yet  as  he  ought  to  know. 
He  knows  not  what  Newton  knew,  and 
what  he  kept  a  steady  eye  upon  throughout 
the  whole  march  of  his  sublime  investiga- 
tions. He  knows  not  the  limit  of  his  own 
faculties.  He  has  overleaped  the  barrier 
which  hems  in  all  the  possibilities  of  human 
attainment.  He  has  wantonly  flung  him- 
self off  from  the  safe  and  firm  field  of  ob- 
servation, and  got  on  that  undiscoverable 
ground,  where,  by  every  step  he  takes,  he 
widens  his  distance  from  the  true  philoso- 
phy, and  by  every  affirmation  he  utters, 
he  rebels  against  the  authority  of  all  its 
maxims. 

I  can  conceive  it  the  feeling  of  every  one 
of  you,  that  I  have  hitherto  indulged  in  a 
vain  expense  of  argument,  and  it  is  most 
natural  for  you  to  put  the  question,  "What 
is  the  precise  point  of  convergence  to  which 
I  am  directing  all  the  light  of  this  abundant 
and  seemingly  superfluous  illustration'?" 

In  the  astronomical  objection  which  in- 
fide%y  has  proposed  against  the  truth  of 
the  Christian  revelation,  there  is  first  an 
assertion,  and  then  an  argument.  The  as- 
sertion is,  that  Christianity  is  set  up  for 
the  exclusive  benefit  of  our  minute  and 
solitary  world.  The  argument  is,  that  God 
would  not  lavish  such  a  quantity  of  atten- 
tion on  so  insignificant  a  field.  Even  though 
the  assertion  were  admitted,  I  should  have 
a  quarrel  with  the  argument.  But  the  fu- 
tility of  the  objection  is  not  laid  open  in  all 
its  extent,  unless  we  expose  the  utter  want 
of  all  essential  evidence  even  for  the  truth 
of  the  assertion.  How  do  infidels  know 
that  Christianity  is  set  up  for  the  single 
benefit  of  this  earth  and  its  inhabitants? 
How  are  they  able  to  tell  us,  that  if  you 
go  to  other  planets,  the  person  and  the  re- 
ligion of  Jesus,  ire  there  unknown  to  them  ? 
We  challenge  them  to  the  proof  of  this  said 


374 


THE    MODESTY    OF   TRUE   SCIENCE. 


[disc 


positive  announcement  of  theirs.  We  see 
in  this  objection  the  same  rash  and  gratui- 
tous procedure,  which  was  so  apparent  in 
the  two  cases  that  we  have  already  advan- 
ced for  the  purpose  of  illustration.  We  see 
in  it  the  same  glaring  transgression  on  the 
spirit  and  the  maxims  of  that  very  philoso- 
phy which  they  profess  to  idolize.  They 
have  made  their  argument  against  us,  out 
of  an  assertion  which  has  positively  no  feet 
to  rest  upon — an  assertion  which  they  have 
no  means  whatever  of  verifying — an  asser- 
tion, the  truth  or  the  falsehood  of  which 
can  only  be  gathered  out  of  some  super- 
natural message ;  for  it  lies  completely  be- 
yond the  range  of  human  observation.  It 
is  willingly  admitted,  that  by  an  attempt 
at  the  botany  of  other  worlds,  the  true 
method  of  philosophising  is  trampled  on ; 
for  this  is  a  subject  that  lies  beyond  the 
range  of  actual  observation,  and  every  per- 
formance upon  it  must  be  made  up  of  as- 
sertions without  proofs.  It  is  also  willingly 
admitted,  that  an  attempt  at  the  civil  and 
political  history  of  their  people,  would  be 
an  equally  extravagant  departure  from  the 
spirit  of  the  true  philosophy ;  for  this  also 
lies  beyond  the  field  of  actual  observation ; 
and  all  that  could  possibly  be  mustered  up 
on  such  a  subject  as  this,  would  still  be  as- 
sertions without  proofs.  Now,  the  theology 
of  these  planets,  is,  in  every  way,  as  inac- 
cessible a  subject  as  their  politics  or  their 
natural  history  ;  and  therefore  it  is,  that  the 
objection,  grounded  on  the  confident  as- 
sumption of  those  infidel  astronomers,  who 
assert  Christianity,  to  be  the  religion  of  this 
one  world,  or  that  the  religion  of  these 
other  worlds  is  not  our  very  Christianity, 
can  have  no  influence  on  a  mind  that  has 
derived  its  habits  of  thinking  from  the  pure 
and  rigorous  school  of  Newton ;  for  the 
whole  of  this  assertion  is  just  as  glaringly 
destitute,  as  in  the  two  former  instances, 
of  proof. 

The  man  who  could  embark  in  an  enter- 
prise so  foolish  and  so  fanciful,  as  to  thqprise 
it  on  the  details  of  the  botany  of  another 
world,  or  to  theorise  it  on  the  natural  and 
moral  history  of  its  people,  is  jus-t  making 
as  outrageous  a  departure  from  all  sense, 
and  science,  and  all  sobriety,  when  he  pre- 
sumes to  speculate,  or  to  assert  on  the  de- 
tails or  the  methods  of  God's  administra- 
tion among  its  rational  and  accountable  in- 
habitants. He  wings  his  fancy  to  as  haz- 
ardous a  region,  and  vainly  strives  a  pene- 
trating vision  through  the  mantle  of  as 
deep  an  obscurity.  All  the  elements  of 
such  a  speculation  are  hidden  from  him. 
For  any  thing  he  can  tell,  sin  has  found  its 
way  into  these  other  worlds.  For  any  ti.ing 
he  can  tell,  their  people  have  banished  them- 
selves from  communion  with  God.  For 
any  thing  he  can  tell,  many  a  visit  has 
been  made  to  each  of  them,  on  the  subject 


of  our  common  Christianity,  by  commis 
sioned  messengers  from  the  throne  of  the 
Eternal.  For  any  thing  he  can  tell,  the 
redemption  proclaimed  to  us  is  not  one 
solitary  instance,  or  not  the  whole  of  that 
redemption  which  is  by  the  Son  of  God — 
but  only  our  part  in  a  plan  of  mercy,  equal 
in  magnificence  to  all  that  astronomy  has 
brought  within  the  range  of  human  con- 
templation. For  any  thing  he  can  tell,  the 
moral  pestilence,  which  walks  abroad  over 
the  face  of  our  world,  may  have  spread  its 
desolation  over  all  the  planets  of  all  the 
systems,  which  the  telescope  has  made 
known  to  us.  For  any  thing  he  can  tell, 
some  mighty  redemption  has  been  devised 
in  heaven,  to  meet  this  disaster  in  the  whole 
extent  and  malignity  of  its  visitations.  For 
any  thing  he  can  tell,  the  wonder  working 
God,  who  has  strewed  the  field  of  immen- 
sity with  so  many  worlds,  and  spread  the 
shelter  of  his  omnipotence  over  them,  may 
have  sent  a  message  of  love  to  each,  and 
re-assured  the  hearts  of  its  despairing  peo- 
ple by  some  overpowering  manifestation 
of  tenderness.  For  any  thing  he  can  tell, 
angels  from  paradise  may  have  sped  to 
every  planet  their  delegated  way,  and  sung, 
from  each  azure  canopy,  a  joyful  annuncia- 
tion, and  said,  "  Peace  be  to  this  residence, 
and  good  will  to  all  its  families,  and  glorv 
to  Him  in  the  highest,  who,  from  the  emi- 
nency  of  his  throne,  has  issued  an  act  of 
grace  so  magnificent,  as  to  carry  the  tidings 
of  life  and  of  acceptance  to  the  unnumber- 
ed orbs  of  a  sinful  creation."  For  any  thing 
he  can  tell,  the  Eternal  Son,  of  whom  it  is 
said,  that  by  him  the  worlds  were  created, 
may  have  had  the  government  of  many 
sinful  worlds  laid  upon  his  shoulders  ;  and 
by  the  power  of  his  mysterious  word,  have 
awoke  them  all  from  that  spiritual  death, 
to  which  they  had  sunk  in  lethargy  as  pro- 
found as  the  slumbers  of  nonexistence. 
For  any  thing  he  can  tell,  the  one  Spirit 
who  moved  on  the  face  of  the  waters,  and 
whose  presiding  influence  it  was,  that  hush- 
ed the  wild  war  of  nature's  elements,  and 
made  a  beauteous  system  emerge  out  of  its 
disjointed  materials,  may  now  be  working 
with  the  fragments  of  another  chaos ;  and 
educing  order,  and  obedience,  and  harmo- 
ny, out  of  the  wrecks  of  a  moral  rebellion, 
which  reaches  through  all  these  spheres, 
and  spreads  disorder  to  the  uttermost  limits 
of  our  astronomy. 

But,  here  I  stop — nor  shall  I  attempt  to 
grope  my  dark  and  fatiguing  way,  by 
another  inch,  among  such  sublime  and  mys- 
terious secrecies.  It  is  not  I  who  am  offer- 
ing to  lilt  this  curtain.  It  is  not  I  who  am 
pitching  my  adventurous  flight  to  the  se- 
cret things  which  belong  to  God,  away 
from  the  things  that  are  revealed,  and 
which  belong  to  me  and  to  my  children. 
It  is  the  champion  of  that  very  infidelity 


«•] 


THE  MODESTY  OF  TRIE  SCIENCE. 


37^ 


which  I  am  now  combating.  It  is  he  who 
props  his  unchristian  argument,  by  pre- 
sumptions fetched  out  of  those  untravelled 
obscurities  which  lie  on  the  other  side  of  a 
barrier  that  I  pronounce  to  be  impassable. 
It  is  he  who  transgresses  the  limits  which 
Newton  forbore  to  enter;  because,  with  a 
justness  which  reigns  throughout  all  his  in- 
quiries, he  saw  the  limit  of  his  own  under- 
standing, nor  would  he  venture  himself  be- 
yond it.  It  is  he  who  has  borrowed  from 
the  philosophy  of  this  wondrous  man,  a  few 
dazzling  conceptions,which  have  only  served 
to  bewilder  him — while,  an  utter  stranger 
to  the  spirit  of  this  philosophy,  he  has  car- 
ried a  daring  and  an  ignorant  speculation 
far  beyond  the  boundary  of  its  prescribed 
and  allowable  enterprises.  It  is  he  who 
has  mustered  against  the  truths  of  the  Gos- 
pel, resting,  as  it  does,  on  the  evidence 
within  the  reach  of  his  faculties,  an  objec- 
tion, for  the  truth  of  which  he  has  no  evi- 
dence whatever.  It  is  he  who  puts  away 
from  him  a  doctrine,  for  which  he  has  (he 
substantial  and  the  familiar  proof  of  human 
testimony ;  and  substitutes  in  its  place  a 
doctrine  for  which  he  can  get  no  other  sup- 
port than  from  a  reverie  of  his  own  imagi- 
nation. It  is  he  who  turns  aside  from  all 
that  safe  and  certain  argument,  that  is  sup- 
plied  by  the  history  of  this  world,  of  which 
he  knows  something ;  and  who  loses  him- 
self in  the  work  of  theorising  about  other 
worlds,  of  the  moral  and  theological  history 
of  which  he  positively  knows  nothing. 
Upon  him,  and  not  upon  us,  lies  the  folly 
of  launching  his  impetuous  way  beyond 
the  province  of  observation — of  letting  his 
fancy  afloat  among  the  unknown  of  distant 
and  mysterious  regions;  and  by  an  act  of 
daring,  as  impious  as  it  is  unphilosophical, 
of  tryina  to  unwrap  that  shroud,  which,  till 
drawn  aside  by  the  hand  of  a  messenger 
from  heaven,  will  ever  veil,  from  human 
eye,  the  purposes  of  the  Eternal 

If  you  have  gone  along  with  me  in  the 
preceding  observations,  you  will  perceive 
how  they  arc  calculated  to  disarm  of  all  its 
point  and  all  its  energy,  that  flippancy  of 
Voltaire;  when,  in  the  examples  he  gives 
of  the  dotage  of  the  human  understanding, 
he  tells  us  of  Bacon  having  believed  in 
witchcraft,  ami  Sir  Isaac  Newton  havinu 
written  a  Commentary  on  the  Hook  of  Re- 
velation. The  former  instance  we  shall 
not  undertake  to  vindicate;  but  in  the  lat- 
ter instance,  we  perceive  what  this  brilliant 
and  spacious,  hut  withal  superficial,  apostle 
of  infidelity,  either  did  not  see,  or  refused 
to  acknowledge.  We  see  in  this  intellec- 
tual labour  of  our  great  philosopher,  the 
working  of  the  very  same  principles  which 
carried  him  through  the  profoundest  and 
the  most  successful  of  his  investigations ; 
and  how  he  kept  most  sacredly  and  most 
consistently  by  those  very  maxims,   the 


authority  of  which  he,  even  in  the  full 
vigor  and  manhood  of  his  faculties,  ever 
recognized.  We  see  in  the  theology  of 
Newton,  the  very  spirit  and  principle  which 
gave  all  its  stability,  and  all  its  sureties?,  to 
the  philosophy  of  Newton.  We  see  the 
same  tenacious  adherence  to  every  one  doc- 
trine, that  had  such  valid  proof  to  uphold 
it,  as  could  be  gathered  from  the  field  of 
human  experience;  and  we  see  the  same 
firm  resistance  of  every  one  argument,  that 
had  nothing  to  recommend  it,  but  such 
plausibilities  as  could  easily  be  devised  by 
the  genius  of  man,  when  he  expatiated 
abroad  on  those  fields  of  creation,  which 
the  eye  never  witnessed,  and  from  which 
no  messenger  ever  came  to  us  with  any 
credible  information.  Now,  it  was  on  the 
former  of  these  two  principles  that  Newton 
clung  so  determinedly  to  his  Bible,  as  the 
record  of  an  actual  annunciation  from  God 
to  the  inhabitants  of  this  world.  When  he 
turned  his  attention  to  this  book,  he  came 
to  it  with  a  mind  tutored  to  the  philosophy 
of  facts — ami,  when  he  looked  at  its  cre- 
dentials, he  saw  the  stamp  and  the  impress 
of  this  philosophy  on  every  one  of  them. 
He  saw  the  fact  of  Christ  being  a  messen- 
ger from  heaven,  in  the  audible  language 
by  which  it  was  conveyed  from  heaven's 
canopy  to  human  ears.  He  saw  the  fact 
of  his  being  an  approved  ambassador  of 
God,  in  those  miracles  which  carried  their 
own  resistless  evidence  along  with  them  to 
human  eyes.  He  saw  the  truth  of  this 
whole  history  brought  home  to  his  own 
conviction,  by  a  sound  and  substantial  ve- 
hicle of  human  testimony.  He  saw  the 
reality  of  that  supernatural  light,  which  in- 
spired the  prophecies  he  himself  illustrated, 
by  such  an  agreement  with  the  events  of  a 
various  and  distant  futurity  as  could  be 
taken  cognizance  of  by  human  observation. 
•He  saw  the  wisdom  of  God  pervading  the 
whole  substance  of  the  written  message,  in 
such  manifold  adaptations  to  the  circum- 
stances of  man,  and  to  the  whole  secrecy 
of  his  thoughts,  and  his  affections,  and  his 
spiritual  wants,  and  his  moral  sensibilities, 
as  even  in  the  mind  of  an  ordinary  and  un- 
lettered peasant,  can  be  attested  by  human 
consciousness.  These  formed  the  solid  ma- 
terials of  the  basis  on  which  our  experi- 
mental philosopher  stood  ;  and  there  was 
nothing  in  the  whole  compass  of  his  own 
astronomy  to  dazzle  him  away  from  it;  and 
he  was  too  well  aware  of  the  limit  between 
what  he  knew  and  what  he  did  not  know, 
to  be  seduced  from  the  ground  he  had 
taken,  by  any  of  those  brilliancies  which 
have  since  led  so  many  of  his  humbler  suc- 
cessors into  the  track  of  infidelity.  He  had 
measured  the  distances  of  these  planets. 
He  had  calculated  their  periods.  He  had 
estimated  their  figures,  and  their  bulk,  and 
their  densities,  and  he  had  subordinated  the 


376 


THE    MODESTY   OF   TRUE   SCIENCE. 


[DISC. 


whole  intricacy  of  their  movements  to  the 
simple  and  sublime  agency  of  one  com- 
manding principle.  But  he  had  too  much 
of  the  ballast  of  a  substantial  understanding 
about  him,  to  be  thrown  afloat  by  all  this 
success  among  the  plausibilities  of  wanton 
and  unauthorized  speculation.  He  knew 
the  boundary  which  hemmed  him.  He  knew 
that  he  had  not  thrown  one  particle  of  light 
on  the  moral  or  religious  history  of  these 
planetary  regions.  He  had  not  ascertained 
what  visits  of  communication  they  received 
from  the  God  who  upholds  them.  But  he 
knew  that  the  fact  of  a  real  visit  made  to 
this  planet,  had  such  evidence  to  rest  upon, 
that  it  was  not  to  be  disposted  by  any  aerial 
imagination.  And  when  I  look  at  the  steady 
and  unmoved  Christianity  of  this  wonder- 
ful man  ;  so  far  from  seeing  any  symptom 
of  dotage  and  imbecility,  or  any  forgetful- 
ness  of  those  principles  on  which  the  fabric 
of  his  philosophy  is  reared ;  do  I  see  that 
in  sitting  down  to  the  work  of  a  Bible  Com- 
mentator, he  hath  given  us  their  most 
beautiful  and  most  consistent  exemplifica- 
tion. 

I  did  not  anticipate  such  a  length  of  time, 
and  of  illustration,  in  this  stage  of  my  ar- 
gument. But  I  will  not  regret  it,  if  I  have 
familiarised  the  minds  of  any  of  my  readers 
to  the  reigning  principle  of  this  Discourse. 
We  are  strongly  disposed  to  think,  that  it 
is  a  principle  which  might  be  made  to  ap- 
ply to  every  argument  of  every  unbeliever 
— and  so  to  serve  not  merely  as  an  anti- 
dote against  the  infidelity  of  astronomers, 
but  to  serve  as  an  antidote  against  all  infi- 
delity. We  are  well  aware  of  the  diversity 
of  complexion  which  infidelity  puts  on.  It 
looks  one  thing  in  the  man  of  science  and 
of  liberal  accomplishment.  It  looks  another 
thing  in  the  refined  voluptuary.  It  looks 
still  another  thing  in  the  common-place 
railer  against  the  artifices  of  priestly  domi- 
nation. It  looks  another  thing  in  the  dark 
and  unsettled  spirit  of  him,  whose  every 
reflection  is  tinctured  with  gall,  and  who 
casts  his  envious  and  malignant  scowl  at 
all  that  stands  associated  with  the  esta- 
blished order  of  society.  It  looks  another 
thing  in  the  prosperous  man  of  business, 
who  has  neither  time  nor  patience  for  the 
details  of  the  christian  evidence — but  who, 
amid  the  hurry  of  his  other  occupations, 
has  gathered  as  many  of  the  lighter  petu- 
lances of  the  infidel  writers,  and  caught 
from  the  perusal  of  them,  as  contemptuous 
a  tone  towards  the  religion  of  the  New 
Testament,  as  to  set  him  at  large  from  all 
the  decencies  of  religious  observation,  and 
to  give  him  the  disdain  of  an  elevated  com- 
placency over  all  the  follies  of  what  he 
counts  a  vulgar  superstition. 

And,  lastly,  for  infidelity  has  now  got 
down  among  us  to  the  humblest  walks  of 
life ;  may  it  occasionally  be  seen  lowering 


on  the  forehead  of  the  resolute  and  hardy 
artificer,  who  can  lift  his  menacing  voice 
against  the  priesthood,  and,  looking  on  the 
Bible  as  a  jugglery  of  theirs,  can  bid  stout 
defiance  to  all  its  denunciations.  Now, 
under  all  these  varieties,  we  think  that 
there  might  be  detected  the  one  and  uni- 
versal principle  which  we  have  attempted 
to  expose.  The  something,  whatever  it  is, 
which  has  dispossessed  all  these  people  of 
their  Christianity,  exists  in  their  minds,  in 
the  shape  of  a  position,  which  they  hold  to 
be  true,  but  which,  by  no  legitimate  cvi 
dence,  they  have  ever  realized — and  a  po- 
sition which  lodges  within  them  as  a  wil- 
ful fancy  or  presumption  of  their  own, 
but  which  could  not  stand  the  touch- 
stone of  that  wise  and  solid  principle,  in 
virtue  of  which,  the  followers  of  Newton 
give  to  observation  the  precedence  over 
theory.  It  is  a  principle  altogether  worthy 
of  being  laboured — as,  if  carried  round  in 
faithful  and  consistent  application  among 
these  numerous  varieties,  it  is  able  to  break 
up  all  the  existing  infidelity  of  the  world. 

But  there  is  one  other  most  important 
conclusion  to  which  it  carries  us.  It  car- 
ries us,  with  all  the  docility  of  children,  to 
the  Bible;  and  puts  us  down  into  the  atti- 
tude of  an  unreserved  surrender  of  thought 
and  understanding,  to  its  authoritative  in- 
formation. Without  the  testimony  of  an 
authentic  messenger  from  heaven,  I  know 
nothing  of  heaven's  counsels.  I  never  heard 
of  any  moral  telescope  that  can  bring  to 
my  observation  the  doings  or  the  delibera- 
tions which  are  taking  place  in  the  sanc- 
tuary of  the  Eternal.  I  may  put  into  the 
registers  of  my  belief,  all  that  comes  home 
to  me  through  the  senses  of  the  outer  man, 
or  by  the  consciousness  of  the  inner  man. 
But  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  can  tell 
me  of  the  purposes  of  God ;  can  tell  me  of 
the  transactions  or  the  designs  of  his  sub- 
lime monarchy ;  can  tell  me  of  the  goings 
forth  of  Him  who  is  from  everlasting  unto 
everlasting ;  can  tell  me  of  the  march  and 
the  movements  of  that  great  administration 
which  embraces  all  worlds,  and  takes  into 
i{s  wide  and  comprehensive  survey  the 
mighty  roll  of  innumerable  ages.  It  is  true 
that  my  fancy  may  break  its  impetuous 
way  into  this  lofty  and  inaccessible  field  ; 
and  through  the  devices  of  my  heart,  which 
are  many,  the  visions  of  an  ever-shifting 
theology  may  take  their  alternate  sway 
over  me ;  but  the  counsel  of  the  Lord,  it 
shall  stand.  And  I  repeat  it,  that  if  true 
to  the  leading  principle  of  that  philosophy, 
which  has  poured  such  a  flood  of  light  over 
the  mysteries  of  nature,  we  shall  dismiss 
every  self-formed  conception  of  our  own, 
and  wait  in  all  the  humility  of  conscious 
ignorance,  till  the  Lord  himself  shall  break 
his  silence,  and  make  his  counsel  known, 
by  an  act  of  communication.    And  now 


III.] 


EXTENT    OF   DIVINE    CONDESCENSION. 


377 


that  a  professed  communication  is  before 
me,  and  that  it  has  all  the  solidity  of  trie 
experimental  evidence  on  its  side,  and 
nothing  but  the  reveries  of  a  daring  specu- 
lation to  oppose  it,  what  is  the  consistent, 
what  is  the  rational,  what  is  the  philoso- 
phical use  that  should  be  made  of  this  doc- 
ument, but  to  set  me  down  like  a  school- 
boy, to  the  wrork  of  turning  its  pages,  and 
conning  its  lessons,  and  submitting  the 
every  exercise  of  my  judgment  to  its  infor- 
mation and  its  testimony?  We  know  that 
there  is  a  superficial  philosophy,  which 
casts  the  glare  of  a  most  seducing  brilliancy 
around  it;  and  spurns  the  Bible,  with  all 


the  doctrine,  and  all  the  piety  of  the  Bible, 
away  from  it ;  and  has  infused  the  spirit  of 
Antichrist  into  many  of  the  literary  esta- 
blishments of  the  age ;  but  it  is  not  the  solid, 
the  profound,  the  cautious  spirit  of  that 
philosophy,  which  has  done  so  much  to 
ennoble  the  modern  period  of  our  world  ; 
for  the  more  that  this  spirit  is  cultivated 
and  understood,  the  more  will  it  be  found 
in  alliance  with  that  spirit,  in  virtue  of 
which  all  that  exalteth  itself  against  the 
knowledge  of  God,  is  humbled,  and  all  lofty 
imaginations  are  cast  down,  and  every 
thought  of  the  heart  is  brought  into  the 
captivity  of  the  obedience  of  Christ. 


DISCOURSE  III. 

On  the  Extent  of  the  Divine  Condescension. 

"  Who  is  like  unto  the  Lord  our  God,  who  dwelleth  on  high  ?  Who  humbleth  himself  to  behold  the  things 
that  are  in  heaven,  and  in  the  earth  ?" — Psalm  cxiii.  5,  6. 


In  our  last  discourse  we  attempted  to  ex- 
pose the  total  want  of  evidence  for  the  as- 
sertion of  the  infidel  astronomer — and  this 
reduces  the  whole  of  our  remaining  contro- 
versy with  him  to  the  business  of  arguing 
against  a  mere  possibility.  Still,  however, 
the  answer  is  not  so  complete  as  it  might 
be,  till  the  soundness  of  the  argument  be  at- 
tended to,  as  well  as  the  credibility  of  the 
assertion — or,  in  other  words,  let  us  admit 
the  assertion,  and  take  a  view  of  the  reason- 
ing which  has  been  constructed  upon  it. 

We  have  already  attempted  to  lay  before 
you  the  wonderful  extent  of  that  space, 
teeming  with  unnumbered  worlds,  which 
modern  science  has  brought  within  the  cir- 
cle of  its  discoveries.  We  even  ventured  to 
expatiate  on  those  tracts  of  infinity,  which 
lie  on  the  other  side  of  all  that  eye  or  that 
telescope  hath  made  known  to  us — to  shoot 
afar  into  those  ulterior  regions  which  are 
beyond  the  limits  of  our  astronomy — to  im- 
press you  with  the  rashness  of  the  imagina- 
tion, that  the  creative  energy  of  God  had 
sunk  exhausted  by  the  magnitude  of  its  ef- 
forts, at  that  very  line,  through  which  the 
art  of  man,  lavished  as  it  has  been  on  the 
work  of  perfecting  the  instruments  of  vision, 
has  not  yet  been  able  to  penetrate :  and 
upon  all  this  we  hazarded  the  assertion, 
that  thouuh  all  these  visible  heavens  were 
to  rush  into  annihilation,  and  the  besom  of 
the  Almighty's  wrath  were  to  sweep  from 
the  lace  of  the  universe,  those  millions,  and 
millions  more  of  suns  and  of  systems,  which 
lie  within  the  grasp  of  our  actual  observation 
— that  this  event,  which,  to  our  eye,  would 
leave  so  wide,  and  so  dismal  a  solitude  be- 
hind it,  might  be  nothing  in  the  eye  of  Him 
48 


who  could  take  in  the  whole,  but  the  disap- 
pearance of  a  little  speck  from  that  field  of 
created  things,  which  the  hand  of  his  om- 
nipotence had  thrown  around  him. 

But  to  press  home  the  sentiment  of  the 
text,  it  is  not  necessary  to  stretch  the  im- 
agination beyond  the  limit  of  our  actual  dis- 
coveries. It  is  enough  to  strike  our  minds 
with  the  insignificance  of  this  world,  and  of 
all  who  inhabit  it,  to  bring  it  into  measure- 
ment with  that  mighty  assemblage  of  worlds, 
which  lie  open  to  the  eye  of  man,  aided  as 
it  has  been  by  the  inventions  of  his  genius. 
When  we  told  you  of  the  eighty  millions 
of  suns,  each  occupying  his  own  independ- 
ent territory  in  space,  and  dispensing  his  own 
influences  over  a  cluster  of  tributary  worlds; 
this  world  could  not  fail  to  sink  into  little- 
ness in  the  eye  of  him  who  looked  to  all  the 
magnitude  and  variety  which  are  around 
it.  We  gave  you  but  a  feeble  image  of  our 
comparative  insignificance,  when  we  said 
that  the  glories  of  an  extended  forest  would 
suffer  no  more  from  the  fall  of  a  single  leaf, 
than  the  glories  of  this  extended  universe 
would  suffer,  though  the  globe  we  tread, 
"  and  all  that  it  inherits,  should  dissolve." 
And  when  we  lift  our  conceptions  to  Him 
who  has  peopled  immensity  with  all  these 
wonders — who  sits  enthroned  on  the  mag- 
nificence of  bis  own  works,  and  by  one  sub- 
lime idea  can  embrace  the  whole  extent  of 
that  boundless  amplitude,  which  he  has 
filled  with  the  trophies  of  his  divinity:  we 
cannot  but  resign  our  whole  heart  to  the 
Psalmist's  exclamation  of  "What  is  man, 
that  thou  art  mindful  of  him,  or  the  son  of 
man,  that  thou  shouldest  deign  to  visit 
him !" 


378 


EXTENT   OF   DIVINE    CONDESCENSION. 


[disc. 


Now  mark  the  ire  to  which  all  this  has 
been  turned  by  t  ie  genius  of  infidelity. 
Such  a  humble  po.  tion  of  the  universe  as 
ours,  could  never  have  been  the  object  of 
such  high  and  distinguishing  attentions  as 
Christianity  has  assigned  to  it.  God  would 
not  have  manifested  himself  in  the  flesh  fo- 
the  salvation  of  so  paltry  a  world.  The 
monarch  of  a  whole  continent,  would  never 
move  from  his  capital,  and  lay  aside  the 
splendour  of  royalty,  and  subject  himself 
for  months,  or  for  years,  to  perils,  and 
poverty,  and  persecution ;  and  take  up  his 
abode  in  some  small  islet  of  his  dominions, 
which,  though  swallowed  by  an  earthquake, 
could  not  be  missed  amid  the  glories  of  so 
wide  an  empire ;  and  all  this  to  regain  the 
lost  affections  of  a  few  families  upon  its 
surface.  And  neither  would  the  eternal  Son 
of  God — he  who  is  revealed  to  us  as  having 
made  all  worlds,  and  as  holding  an  empire, 
amid  the  splendours  of  which  the  globe  that 
we  inherit,  is  shaded  insignificance;  neither 
would  he  strip  himself  of  the  glory  he  had 
with  the  Father  before  the  world  was,  and 
light  on  this  lower  scene,  for  the  purpose 
imputed  to  him  in  the  New  Testament.  Im- 
possible, that  the  concerns  of  this  puny  ball, 
which  floats  its  little  round  among  an  in- 
finity of  larger  worlds,  should  be  of  such 
mighty  account  in  the  plans  of  the  Eternal, 
or  should  have  given  birth  in  heaven  to  so 
wonderful  a  movement,  as  the  Son  of  God 
putting  on  the  form  of  our  degraded 
species,  and  sojourning  among  us,  and 
sharing  in  all  our  infirmities,  and  crown- 
ing the  whole  scene  of  humiliation  by  the 
disgrace  and  the  agonies  of  a  cruel  martyr- 
dom. 

This  has  been  started  as  a  difficulty  in 
the  way  of  the  Christian  Revelation  ;  and 
it  is  the  boast  of  many  of  our  philosophical 
infidels,  that  by  the  light  of  modern  disco- 
very, the  light  of  the  New  Testament  is 
eclipsed  and  overborne  ;  and  the  mischief 
is  not  confined  to  philosophers,  for  the  argu- 
ment has  got  into  other  hands,  and  the 
popular  illustrations  that  are  now  given  to 
the  sublimest  truths  of  science,  have  widely 
disseminated  all  the  deism  that  has  been 
grafted  upon  it;  and  thehigh  tone  of  a  decided 
contempt  for  the  Gospel,  is  now  associated 
with  the  flippancy  of  superficial  acquire- 
ments: and,  while  the  venerable  Newton, 
whose  genius  threw  open  those  mighty  fields 
of  contemplation,  found  a  fit  exercise  for  his 
powers  in  the  interpretation  of  the  Bible, 
there  are  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands, 
who,  though  walking  in  the  light  which  he 
holds  out  to  them,  are  seduced  by  a  com- 
placency which  he  never  felt,  and  inflated 
by  a  pride  which  never  entered  into  his 
pious  and  philosophical  bosom,  and  whose 
only  notice  of  the  Bible,  is  to  depreciate, 
and  to  deride,  and  to  disown  it. 

Before  entering  into  what  we  conceive  to 


be  the  right  answer  to  this  objection,  let  us 
previously  observe,  that  it  goes  to  strip  the 
Deity  of  an  attribute  which  forms  a  wonder- 
ful addition  to  the  glories  of  his  incompre- 
hensible character.  It  is  indeed  a  mighty 
evidence  of  the  strength  of  his  arm,  that  so 
many  millions  of  worlds  are  suspended  on 
it;  but  it  would  surely  make  the  high  attri- 
bute of  his  power  more  illustrious,  if  while 
it  expatiated  at  large  among  the  suns  and 
the  systems  of  astronomy,  it  could,  at  the 
very  same  instant,  be  impressing  a  move- 
ment and  a  direction  on  all  the  minuter 
wheels  of  that  machinery,  which  is  work- 
ing incessantly  around  us.  It  forms  a  no- 
ble demonstration  of  his  wisdom,  that  he 
gives  unremitting  operation  to  those  laws 
which  uphold  the  stability  of  this  great  uni- 
verse ;  but  it  would  go  to  heighten  that 
wisdom  inconceivably,  if  while  equal  to  the 
magnificent  task  of  maintaining  the  order 
and  harmony  of  the  spheres,  it  was  lavish- 
ing its  inexhaustible  resources  on  the  beau- 
ties, and  varieties,  and  arrangements,  of 
every  one  scene,  however  humble,  of  every 
one  field,  however  narrow,  of  the  creation  he 
had  formed.  It  is  a  cheering  evidence  of 
the  delight'he  takes  in  communicating  hap- 
piness, that  the  whole  of  immensity  should 
be  so  strewed  with  the  habitations  of  life 
and  of  intelligence ;  but  it  would  surely 
bring  home  the  evidence,  with  a  nearer  and 
more  affecting  impression,  to  every  bosom, 
did  we  know,  that  at  the  very  time  his  be- 
nignant regard  took  in  the  mighty  circle  of 
created  beings,  there  was  not  a  single  fami- 
ly overlooked  by  him,  and  that  every  indi- 
vidual in  every  corner  of  his  dominions, 
was  as  effectually  seen  to,  as  if  the  object 
of  an  exclusive  and  undivided  care.  It  is 
our  imperfection,  that  we  cannot  give  our 
attention  to  more  than  one  object  at  one 
and  the  same  instant  of  time  ;  but  surely  it 
would  elevate  our  every  idea  of  the  perfec- 
tions of  God,  did  we  know,  that  while  his 
comprehensive  mind  could  grasp  the  whole 
amplitude  of  nature,  to  the  very  outer- 
most of  its  boundaries,  he  had  an  attentive 
eye  fastened  on  the  very  humblest  of  its  ob- 
jects, and  pondered  every  thought  of  my 
heart,  and  noticed  every  footstep  of  my 
goings,  and  treasured  up  in  his  remem- 
brance every  turn  and  every  movement  of 
my  history. 

And,  lastly,  to  apply  this  train  of  senti- 
ment to  the  matter  before  us ;  let  us  sup- 
pose that  one  among  the  countless  myriads 
of  worlds,  should  be  visited  by  a  moral 
pestilence,  which  spread  through  all  its  peo- 
ple, and  brought  them  under  the  doom  of  a 
law,  whose  sanctions  were  unrelenting  and 
immutable ;  it  were  no  disparagement  to 
God,  should  he,  by  an  act  of  righteous  in- 
dignation, sweep  this  offence  away  from  the 
universe  which  it  deformed — nor  should  we 
wonder,  though,  among  the  multitude  of 


IltJ 


EXTENT    OF   DIVINE   CONDESCENSION. 


379 


other  worlds  from  which  the  ear  of  the  Al- 
mighty was  regaled  with  the  songs  of 
praise,  and  the  incense  of  a  pure  adoration 
ascended  to  his  throne,  he  should  leave  the 
strayed  and  solitary  world  to  perish  in  the 
guilt  of  its  rebellion.  But,  tell  me,  oh  !  tell 
me,  would  it  not  throw  the  softening  of  a 
most  exquisite  tenderness  over  the  charac- 
ter of  God,  should  we  see  him  putting  forth 
his  every  expedient  to  reclaim  to  himself 
those  children  who  had  wandered  away 
from  him — and,  few  as  they  were  when 
compared  with  the  host  of  his  obedient 
worshippers,  would  it  not  just  impart  to  his 
attribute  of  compassion  the  infinity  of  the 
Godhead,  that,  rather  than  lose  the  single 
world  which  had  turned  to  its  own  way, 
he  should  send  the  messengers  of  peace 
to  woo  and  to  welcome  it  back  again  ;  and, 
if  justice  demanded  so  mighty  a  sacrifice, 
and  the  law  behoved  to  be  so  magnified 
and  made  honourable,  tell  me  whether  it 
would  not  throw  a  moral  sublime  over  the 
goodness  of  the  Deity,  should  he  lay  upon 
his  own  Son  the  burden  of  its  atonement, 
that  he  might  again  smile  upon  the  world, 
and  hold  out  the  sceptre  of  invitation  to  all 
its  families  ? 

We  avow  it,  therefore,  that  this  infidel 
argument  goes  to  expunge  a  perfection  from 
the  character  of  God.  The  more  we  know 
of  the  extent  of  nature,  should  not  we  have 
the  loftier  conception  of  him  who  sits  in 
high  authority  over  the  concerns  of  so  wide 
a  universe?  But,  is  it  not  adding  to  the 
bright  catalogue  of  his  other  attributes,  to 
say,  that,  while  magnitude  does  not  over- 
power him,  minuteness  cannot  escape  him, 
and  variety  cannot  bewilder  him  ;  and  that, 
at  the  very  time  while  the  mind  of  the 
Deity  is  abroad  over  the  whole  vastness  of 
creation,  there  is  not  one  particle  of  matter, 
there  is  nut  one  individual  principle  of  ra- 
tional or  of  animal  existence,  there  is  not 
one  single  world  in  that  expanse  which 
teems  with  them,  that  his  eye  does  not  dis- 
cern as  constantly,  and  his  hand  does  not 
guide  as  unerringly,  and  his  spirit  does  not 
watch  and  care  for  as  vigilantly,  as  if  it 
formed  the  one.  and  exclusive  object  of  his 
attention. 

The  thing  is  inconceivable  to  us,  whose 
mill  Is  are  so  easily  distracted  by  a  number 
of  objects;  and  this  is  the  secret  principle 
of  the  whole  infidelity  I  am  now  alluding 
to.  To  bring  God  to  the  level  of  our  own 
comprehension,  we  would  clothe  him  in  the 
im potency  of  a  man.  We  would  transfer  to 
his  wonderful  mind  all  the  imperfection  of 
our  own  faculties.  When  we  are  taught 
by  astronomy,  that  he  has  millions  of  worlds 
to  look  after,  and  thus  add  in  one  direction 
to  the  glories  of  his  character;  we  take 
away  from  them  in  another,  by  saying,  that 
each  of  these  worlds  must  be  looked  after 
imperfectly.    The  use  that  we  make  of  a 


discovery,  which  should  hasten  our  every 
conception  of  God,  and  humble  us  into  the 
sentiment,  that  a  Being  of  such  mysterious 
elevation  is  to  us  unfathomable,  is  to  sit  in 
judgment  over  him,  aye,  and  to  pronounce 
such  a  judgment  as  degrades  him,  and  keeps 
him  down  to  the  standard  of  our  own  paltry 
imagination!  We  are  introduced  by  modern 
science  to  a  multitude  of  other  suns  and  of 
other  systems;  and  the  perverse  interpreta- 
tion we  put  upon  the  fact,  that  God  can 
diffuse  the  benefits  of  his  power  and  of  his 
goodness  over  such  a  variety  of  worlds,  is, 
that  he  cannot,  or  will  not,  bestow  so  much 
goodness  on  one  of  those  worlds,  as  a 
professed  revelation  from  Heaven  has  an- 
nounced to  us.  While  we  enlarge  the  pro- 
vinces of  his  empire,  we  tarnish  all  the  glory 
of  this  enlargement,  by  saying,  he  has  so 
much  to  care  for,  that  the  care  of  every  one 
province  must  be  less  complete,  and  less 
vigilant,  and  less  effectual,  than  it  would 
otherwise  have  been.  By  the  discoveries 
of  modern  science,  we  multiply  the  places 
of  the  creation;  but  along  with  this,  we 
would  impair  the  attribute  of  his  eye  being 
in  every  place  to  behold  the  evil  and  the 
good;  and  thus,  while  we  magnify  one  of 
his  perfections,  we  do  it  at  the  expense  of 
another;  and  to  bring  him  within  the  grasp 
of  our  feeble  capacity,  would  deface  one  of 
the  glories  of  that  character,  which  it  is  our 
part  to  adore,  as  higher  than  all  thought, 
and  as  greater  than  all  comprehension. 

The  objection  we  are  discussing,  I  shall 
state  again  in  a  single  sentence.  Since 
astronomy  has  unfolded  to  us  such  a  num- 
ber of  worlds,  it  is  not  likely  that  God  would 
pay  so  much  attention  to  this  one  world, 
and  set  up  such  wonderful  provisions  for  its 
benefit,  as  are  announced  to  us  in  the  Chris- 
tian Revelation.  This  objection  will  have 
received  its  answer,  if  we  can  meet  it  by 
the  following  position : — that  God,  in  ad- 
dition to  the  bare  faculty  of  dwelling  on 
a  multiplicity  of  objects  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  has  this  faculty  in  such  wonder- 
ful perfection  that  he  can  attend  as  fully 
and  provide  as  richly,  and  manifest  all  his 
attributes  as  illustriously,  on  every  one  of 
these  objects,  as  if  the  rest  had  no  existence, 
and  no  place  whatever  in  his  government 
or  in  his  thoughts.  For  the  evidence  of  this 
position,  we  appeal,  in  the  first  place,  to  the 
personal  history  of  each  individual  among 
you.  Only  grant  us,  that  God  never  loses 
sight  of  any  one  thing  he  has  created,  and 
that  no  created  thing  can  continue  either  to 
be  or  to  act  independently  of  him  ;  and  then, 
even  upon  the  face  of  this  world,  humble 
as  it  is  on  the  great  scale  of  astronomy,  how 
widely  diversified  and  how  multiplied  into 
many  thousand  distinct  exercises,  is  the  at- 
tention of  God !  His  eye  is  upon  every 
hour  of  my  existence.  His  spirit  is  inti- 
mately present  with  every  thought  of  my 


380 


EXTENT   OF   DIVINE   CONDESCENSION. 


[disc. 


heart.  His  inspiration  gives  birth  to  every 
purpose  within  me.  His  hand  impresses  a 
direction  on  every  footstep  of  my  goings. 
Every  breath  I  inhale,  is  drawn  by  an  en- 
ergy which  God  deals  out  to  me.  This 
body,  which,  upon  the  slightest  derange- 
ment, would  become  the  prey  of  death,  or 
of  woful  suffering,  is  now  at  ease,  because 
he  at  this  moment  is  warding  off  from  me 
a  thousand  dangers,  and  upholding  the  thou- 
sand movements  of  its  complex  and  delicate 
machinery.  His  presiding  influence  keeps 
by  me  through  the  whole  current  of  my 
restless  and  ever  changing  history.  "When 
I  walk  by  the  way  side,  he  is  along  with 
me.  When  I  enter  into  company,  amid  all 
my  forgetfulness  of  him,  he  never  forgets 
me.  In  the  silent  watches  of  the  night,  when 
my  eyelids  have  closed,  and  my  spirit  has 
sunk  into  unconsciousness,  the  observant 
eye  of  him  who  never  slumbers,  is  upon 
me.  I  cannot  fly  from  his  presence.  Go 
where  I  will,  he  tends  me,  and  watches  me, 
and  cares  for  me ;  and  the  same  being  who 
is  now  at  work  in  the  remotest  domains  of 
Nature  and  of  Providence,  is  also  at  my 
right  hand  to  eke  out  to  me  every  moment 
of  my  being,  and  to  uphold  me  in  the  exer- 
cise of  all  my  feelings,  and  of  all  my  faculties. 

Now,  what  God  is  doing  with  me,  he  is 
doing  with  every  distinct  individual  of  this 
world's  population.  The  intimacy  of  his 
presence,  and  attention,  and  care,  reaches 
to  one  and  to  all  of  them.  With  a  mind  un- 
burdened by  the  vastness  of  all  its  other 
concerns,  he  can  prosecute,  without  distrac- 
tion, the  government  and  guardianship  of 
every  one  son  and  daughter  of  the  species. — 
And  is  it  for  us,  in  the  face  of  all  this  expe- 
rience, ungratefully  to  draw  a  limit  around 
the  perfections  of  God  ? — to  aver,  that  the 
multitude  of  other  worlds  has  withdrawn 
any  portion  of  his  benevolence  from  the  one 
we  occupy? — or  that  he, whose  eye  is  upon 
every  separate  family  of  the  earth,  would 
not  lavish  all  the  riches  of  his  unsearchable 
attributes  on  some  high  plan  of  pardon  and 
immortality,  in  behalf  of  its  countless  gene- 
rations? 

But,  secondly,  were  the  mind  of  God  so 
fatigued,  and  so  occupied  with  the  care  of 
other  worlds,  as  the  objection  presumes  hiin 
to  be,  should  we  not  see  some  traces  of  ne- 
glect, or  of  carelessness,  in  his  management 
of  ours?  Should  we  not  behold,  in  many  a 
field  of  observation,  the  evidence  of  its  mas- 
ter being  overcrowded  with  the  variety  of 
his  other  engagements  ?  A  man  oppressed 
by  a  multitude  of  business,  would  simplify 
and  reduce  the  work  of  any  new  concern 
that  was  devolved  upon  him.  Now,  point 
out  a  single  mark  of  God  being  thus  op- 
pressed. Astronomy  has  laid  open  to  us  so 
many  realms  of  creation,  which  were  before 
unheard  of.  that  the  world  we  inhabit  shrinks 
into  one  remote  and  solitary  province  of  his 


wide  monarchy.  Tell  me,  then,  if,  in  any 
one  field  of  this  province,  which  man  has 
access  to,  you  witness  a  single  indication 
of  God  sparing  himself— of  God  reduced  to 
languor  by  the  weight  of  his  other  employ- 
ments— of  God  sinking  under  the  burden 
of  that  vast  superintendence  which  lies  upon 
him — of  God  being  exhausted,  as  one  of 
ourselves  would  be,  by  any  number  of  con- 
cerns, however  great,  by  any  variety  ot 
them,  however  manifold  ?  and  do  you  not 
perceive,  in  that  mighty  profusion  of  wis- 
dom and  of  goodness,  which  is  scattered 
every  where  around  us,  that  the  thoughts 
of  this  unsearchable  Being  are  not  as  oui 
thoughts,  nor  his  ways  as  our  ways  ? 

My  time  does  not  suffer  me  to  dwell  on 
this  topic,  because,  before  I  conclude,  1 
must  hasten  to  another  illustration.  But 
when  I  look  abroad  on  the  wondrous  scene 
that  is  immediately  before  me — and  see, 
that  in  every  direction  it  is  a  scene  of  the 
most  various  and  unwearied  activity — and 
expatiate  on  all  the  beauties  of  that  garni- 
ture by  which  it  is  adorned,  and  on  all  the 
prints  of  design  and  of  benevolence  which 
abound  in  it — and  think,  that  the  same  God, 
who  holds  the  universe,  with  its  every  sys- 
tem, in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  pencils 
every  flower,  and  gives  nourishment  to 
every  blade  of  grass — and  actuates  the 
movements  of  every  living  thing — and  is 
not  disabled,  by  the  weight  of  his  other 
cares,  from  enriching  the  humble  depart- 
ment of  nature  I  occupy,  with  charms  and 
accommodations,  of  the  most  unbounded 
variety — then,  surely,  if  a  message,  bear- 
ing every  mark  of  authenticity,  should  pro- 
fess to  come  to  me  from  God,  and  inform 
me  of  his  mighty  doings  for  the  happiness 
of  our  species,  it  is  not  for  me,  in  the  face 
of  all  this  evidence,  to  reject  it  as  a  tale  of 
imposture,  because  astronomers  have  told 
me  that  he  has  so  many  other  worlds  and 
other  orders  of  beings  to  attend  to — and, 
when  I  think  that  it  were  a  deposition  of 
him  from  his  supremacy  over  the  creatures 
he  has  formed,  should  a  single  sparrow 
fall  to  the  ground  without  his  appointment, 
then  let  science  and  sophistry  try  to  cheat 
me  of  my  comfort  as  they  may — I  will  not 
let  go  the  anchor  of  my  confidence  in  Gcd 
— I  will  not  be  afraid,  for  I  am  of  mor 
value  than  many  sparrows. 

But  thirdly,  it  was  the  telescope,  that  by 
piercing  the  obscurity  which  lies  between 
us  and  distant  worlds,  put  infidelity  in  pos- 
session of  the  argument,  against  which  we 
are  now  contending.  But,  about  the  time 
of  its  invention,  another  instrument  was 
formed,  which  laid  open  a  scene  no  less 
wonderful,  and  rewarded  the  inquisitive 
spirit  of  man  with  a  discovery,  which  serves 
to  neutralize  the  whole  of  this  argument. 
This  was  the  microscope.  The  one  led  me 
to  see  a  system  in  every  star.    The  other 


III.] 


EXTENT    OF    DIVINE    CONDESCENSION. 


381 


leads  me  to  see  a  world  in  every  atom. 
The  one  taught  me,  that  this  mighty  globe, 
with  the  whole  burden  of  its  people,  and  of 
its  countries,  is  but  a  grain  of  sand  on  the 
high  field  of  immensity.  The  other  teaches 
me,  thai  every  grain  of  sand  may  harbour 
within  it  the  tribes  and  the  families  of  a 
busy  population.  The  one  told  me  of  the 
insignificance  of  the  world  I  tread  upon. 
The  other  redeems  it  from  all  its  insignifi- 
cance ;  for  it  tells  me  that  in  the  leaves  of 
every  forest,  and  in  the  flowers  of  every 
garden,  and  in  the  waters  of  every  rivulet, 
there  are  worlds  teeming  with  life,  and 
numberless  as  are  the  glories  of  the  firma- 
ment. The  one  has  suggested  to  me,  that 
beyond  and  above  all  that  is  visible  to  man, 
there  may  lie  fields  of  creation  which  sweep 
immeasurably  along,  and  carry  the  impress 
of  the  Almighty's  hand  to  the  remotest 
scenes  of  the  universe.  The  other  suggests 
to  me,  that  within  and  beneath  all  that  mi- 
nuteness which  the  aided  eye  of  man  has 
been  able  to  explore,  there  may  be  a  region 
of  invisibles;  and  that  could  we  draw  aside 
the  mysterious  curtain  which  shrouds  it 
from  our  senses,  we  might  there  see  a 
theatre  of  as  many  wonders  as  astronomy 
has  unfolded,  a  universe  within  the  com- 
pass of  a  point  so  small,  as  to  elude  all  the 
powers  of  the  microscope,  but  where  the 
wonder  working  God  finds  room  for  the 
exercise  of  all  his  attributes,  where  he  can 
raise  another  mechanism  of  worlds,  and  fill 
and  animate  them  all  with  the  evidences  of 
his  glory. 

Now,  mark  how  all  tbis  may  be  made  to 
meet  the  argument  of  our  infidel  astrono- 
mers. By  the  telescope  they  have  discov- 
ered, that  no  magnitude,  however  vast,  is 
beyond  the  grasp  of  the  Divinity.  But  by 
the  microscope  we  have  also  discovered, 
that  no  minuteness,  however  shrunk  from 
the  notice  of  the  human  eye,  is  beneath 
the  condescension  of  his  regard.  Every 
addition  to  the  powers  of  the  one  instru- 
ment, extends  the  limit  of  his  visible  do- 
minions. But,  by  every  addition  to  the 
powers  of  the  other  instrument,  we  see 
each  part  of  them  more  crowded  than  be- 
fore, with  the  wonders  of  his  unwearying 
hand.  The  one  is  constantly  widening  the 
circle  of  his  territory.  The  other  is  as  con- 
stantly filling  up  its  separate  portions,  with 
all  that  is  rich,  and  various,  and  exquisite. 
In  a  word,  by  the  one  I  am  told  that  the 
Almighty  is  now  at  work  in  regions  more 
distant  than  geometry  has  ever  measured, 
and  among  worlds  more  manifold  than 
numbers  have  ever  reached.  But,  by  the 
other,  I  am  also  told,  that,  with  a  mind  to 
comprehend  the  whole,  in  the  vast  com- 
pass of  its  generality,  he  has  also  a  mind 
to  concentrate  a  close  and  a  separate  at- 
tention on  each  and  on  all  of  its  particu- 
lars; and  that  the  same  God,  who  sends 


forth  an  upholding  influence  among  the 
orbs  and  the  movements  of  astronomy,  can 
fill  the  recesses  of  every  single  atom  with 
the  intimacy  of  his  presence,  and  travel,  in 
all  the  greatness  of  his  unimpaired  attri- 
butes, upon  every  one  spot  and  corner  of 
the  universe  he  has  formed. 

They,  therefore,  who  think  that  God  will 
not  put  forth  such  a  power,  and  such  a 
goodness,  and  such  a  condescension,  in  be- 
half of  tbis  world,  as  are  ascribed  to  him 
in  the  New  Testament,  because  he  has  so 
many  other  worlds  to  attend  to,  think  of 
him  as  a  man.  They  confine  their  view  to 
the  informations  of  the  telescope,  and  for- 
get altogether  the  informations  of  the  other 
instrument.  They  only  find  room  in  their 
minds  for  his  one  attribute  of  a  large  and 
general  superintendance,  and  keep  out  of 
their  remembrance,  the  equally  impressive 
proofs  we  have  for  his  other  attribute  of  a 
minute  and  multiplied  attention  to  all  that 
diversity  of  operations,  where  it  is  he  that 
worketh  all  in  all.  And  then  I  think,  that 
as  one  of  the  instruments  of  philosophy 
has  heightened  our  every  impression  of  the 
first  of  these  attributes,  so  another  instru- 
ment has  no  less  heightened  our  impression 
of  the  second  of  them — then  I  can  no  longer 
resist  the  conclusion,  that  it  would  be  a 
transgression  of  sound  argument,  as  well 
as  a  daring  of  impiety,  to  draw  a  limit 
around  the  doings  of  this  unsearchable 
God — and,  should  a  professed  revelation 
from  heaven,  tell  me  of  an  act  of  conde- 
scension, in  behalf  of  some  separate  world, 
so  wonderful  that  angels  desired  to  look 
into  it,  and  the  Eternal  Son  had  to  move 
from  his  seat  of  glory  to  carry  it  into  ac- 
complishment, all  I  ask  is  the  evidence  of 
such  a  revelation  ;  for,  let  it  tell  me  as  much 
as  it  may  of  God  letting  himself  down  for 
the  benefit  of  one  single  province  of  his  do- 
minions, this  is  no  more  than  what  I  see 
lying  scattered,  in  numberless  examples, 
before  me;  and  running  through  the  whole 
line  of  my  recollections ;  and  meeting  me 
in  every  walk  of  observation  to  which  I 
can  betake  myself;  and,  now  that  the  mi- 
croscope has  unveiled  the  wonders  of  an- 
other region,  I  see  strewed  around  me,  with 
a  profusion  which  baffles  my  every  attempt 
to  comprehend  it,  the  evidence  that  there 
is  no  one  portion  of  the  universe  of  God 
too  minute  for  his  notice,  nor  too  humble 
for  the  visitations  of  his  care. 

As  the  end  of  all  these  illustrations,  let 
me  bestow  a  single  paragraph  on  what  I 
conceive  to  be  the  precise  state  of  this  ar- 
gument. 

It  is  a  wonderful  thing  that  God  should 
be  so  unincumbered  by  the  concerns  of  a 
whole  universe,  that  be  can  give  a  constant 
attention  to  every  moment  of  every  indi- 
vidual in  tbis  world's  population.  But, 
wonderful  as  it  is,  you  do  not  hesitate  to 


382 


EXTENT   OF   DIVINE   CONDESCENSION. 


[disc. 


admit  it.  as  true,  on  the  evidence  of  your 
own  recollections.  It  is  a  wonderful  thing 
that  he  whose  eye  is  at  every  instant  on  so 
many  worlds,  should  have  peopled  the 
world  we  inhabit  with  all  the  traces  of  the 
varied  design  and  benevolence  which  abound 
in  it.  But,  great  as  the  wonder  is,  you  do 
not  allow  so  much  as  the  shadow  of  im- 
probability to  darken  it,  for  its  reality  is 
what  you  actually  witness,  and  you  never 
think  of  questioning  the  evidence  of  obser- 
vation. It  is  wonderful,  it  is  passing  won- 
derful, that  the  same  God,  whose  presence 
is  diffused  through  immensity,  and  who 
spreads  the  ample  canopy  of  his  adminis- 
tration over  all  its  dwelling-places,  should, 
with  an  energy  as  fresh  and  as  unexpen- 
ded as  if  he  had  only  begun  the  work  of 
creation,  turn  him  to  the  neighbourhood 
around  us,  and  lavish  on  its  every  hand- 
breadth,  all  the  exuberance  of  his  goodness, 
and  crowd  it  with  the  many  thousand  va- 
rieties of  conscious  existence.  But,  be  the 
wonder  incomprehensible  as  it  may,  you 
do  not  suffer  in  your  mind  the  burden  of  a 
single  doubt  to  lie  upon  it  because  you  do 
not  question  the  report  of  the  miscroscope. 
You  do  not  refuse  its  information,  nor  turn 
away  from  it  as  an  incompetent  channel 
of  evidence.  But  to  bring  it  still  nearer  to 
the  point  at  issue,  there  are  many  who 
never  looked  through  a  microscope;  but 
who  rest  an  implicit  faith  in  all  its  revela- 
tions ;  and  upon  what  evidence,  I  would 
ask  ?  Upon  the  evidence  of  testimony — 
upon  the  credit  they  give  to  the  authors  of 
the  books  they  have  read,  and  the  belief 
they  put  in  the  record  of  their  observations. 
Now,  at  this  point  I  make  my  stand.  It  is 
wonderful  that  God  should  be  so  interested 
in  the  redemption  of  a  single  world,  as  to 
send  forth  his  well-beloved  Son  upon  the 
errand,  and  he,  to  accomplish  it,  should, 
mighty  to  save,  put  forth  all  his  strength, 
and  travail  in  the  greatness  of  it.  But  such 
wonders  as  these  have  already  multiplied 
upon  you ;  and  when  evidence  is  given  of 
their  truth,  you  have  resigned  your  every 
Judgment  of  the  unsearchable  God,  and 
rested  in  the  faith  of  them.  I  demand,  in 
the  name  of  sound  and  consistent  philoso- 
phy, that  you  do  the  same  in  the  matter 
before  us — and  take  it  up  as  a  question  of 
evidence — and  examine  that  medium  of 
testimony  through  which  the  miracles  and 
informations  of  the  Gospel  have  come  to 
your  door — and  go  not  to  admit  as  argu- 
ment here,  what  would  not  be  admitted  as 
argument  in  any  of  the  analogies  of  nature 
and  observation — and  take  along  with  you 
in  this  field  of  inquiry,  a  lesson  which  you 
should  have  learned  upon  other  fields — 
even  the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the 
wisdom  and  the  knowledge  of  God,  that 
his  judgments  are  unsearchable,  and  his 
ways  are  past  finding  out. 


I  do  not  enter  at  all  into  the  positive  evi- 
dence for  the  truth  of  the  Christian  Reve- 
lation, my  single  aim  at  present  being  to 
dispose  of  one  of  the  objections  which  is 
conceived  to  stand  in  the  way  of  it.  Let 
me  suppose  then  that  this  is  done  to  the 
satisfaction  of  a  philosophical  inquirer,  and 
that  the  evidence  is  sustained,  and  that  the 
same  mind  that  is  familiarised  to  all  the 
sublimities  of  natural  science,  and  has  been 
in  the  habit  of  contemplating  God  in  asso- 
ciation with  all  the  magnificence  which  is 
around  him,  shall  be  brought  to  submit  its 
thoughts  to  the  captivity  of  the  doctrine  of 
Christ.  Oh !  with  what  veneration,  and 
gratitude,  and  wonder,  should  he  look  on 
the  descent  of  him  into  this  lower  world,  who 
made  all  these  things,  and  without  whom 
was  not  any  thing  made  that  was  made. 
What  a  grandeur  does  it  throw  over  every 
step  in  the  redemption  of  a  fallen  world, 
to  think  of  its  being  done  by  him  who  un- 
robed him  of  the  glories  of  so  wide  a  mo- 
narchy,  and  came  to  this  humblest  of  its 
provinces,  in  the  disguise  of  a  servant,  and 
took  upon  him  the  form  of  our  degraded 
species,  and  let  himself  down  to  sorrows 
and  to  sufferings,  and  to  death,  for  us.  In 
this  love  of  an  expiring  Saviour  to  those 
for  whom  in  agony  he  poured  out  his  soul, 
there  is  a  height,  and  a  depth,  and  a  length, 
and  a  breadth,  more  than  I  can  compre- 
hend ;  and  let  me  never,  never  from  this 
moment  neglect  so  great  a  salvation,  or  lose 
my  hold  of  an  atonement,  made  sure  by 
him  who  cried,  that  it  was  finished,  and 
brought  in  an  everlasting  righteousness.  It 
was  not  the  visit  of  an  empty  parade  that 
he  made  to  us.  It  was  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  some  substantial  purpose ;  and,  if 
that  purpose  is  announced,  and  stated  to 
consist  in  his  dying  the  just  for  the  unjust, 
that  he  might  bring  us  unto  God,  let  us  never 
doubt  of  our  acceptance  in  that  way  of 
communication  with  our  Father  in  heaven, 
which  he  hath  opened  and  made  known 
to  us.  In  taking  to  that  way,  let  us  follow 
his  every  direction  with  that  humility  which 
a  sense  of  all  this  wonderful  condescension 
is  fitted  to  inspire.  Let  us  forsake  all  that 
he  bids  us  forsake.  Let  us  do  all  that  he 
bids  its  do.  Let  us  give  ourselves  up  to  his 
guidance  with  the  docility  of  children, 
overpowered  by  a  kindness  that  we  never 
merited,  and  a  love  that  is  unequalled  by 
all  the  perverseness  and  all  the  ingrati- 
tude of  our  stubborn  nature — for  what 
shall  we  render  unto  him  for  such  myste- 
rious benefits — to  him  who  has  thus  been 
mindful  of  us — to  him  who  thus  has  deigned 
to  visit  us? 

But  the  whole  of  this  argument  is  not 
yet  exhausted.  We  have  scarcely  entered 
on  the  defence  that  is  commonly  made 
against  the  plea  which  infidelity  rests  on 
the  wonderful  extent  of  the  universe  of 


IV.J 


THE    KNOWLEDGE   OF   MAN'S   MORAL   HISTORY. 


383 


God,  and  the  insignificancy  of  our  assigned 
portion  of  it.  The  way  in  which  we  have 
attempted  to  dispose  of  this  plea,  is  by  in- 
sisting OH  the  evidence  thai  is  every  where 
around  us,  of  God  combining  with  the  large- 
ness of  a  vast  and  mighty  superintendence, 
which  reaches  the  outskirts  of  creation,  and 
spreads  over  all  its  amplitudes — the  faculty 
of  bestowing  as  much  attention,  and  exer- 
cising as  complete  and  manifold  a  wisdom, 
and  lavishing  as  profuse  and  inexhaustible 
a  goodness  on  each  of  its  humblest  depart- 
ments, as  if  it  formed  the  whole  extent  of 
his  territory. 

In  the  whole  of  this  argument  we  have 
looked  upon  the  earth  as  isolated  from  the 
rest  of  the  universe  altogether.  But  ac- 
cording to  the  way  in  which  the  astrono- 
mical objection  is  commonly  met,  the  earth 
is  not  viewed  as  in  a  state  of  detachment 
from  the  other  worlds,  and  theother  orders 
of  being  which  God  has  called  into  exist- 
ence. It  is  looked  upon  as  the  member  of 
a  more  extended  system.  It  is  associated 
with  the  magnificence  of  a  moral  empire, 
as  wide  as  the  kingdom  of  nature.  It  is  not 
merely  asserted,  what  in  our  last  Discourse 
has  been  already  done,  that  for  any  thing 
we  can  know  by  reason,  the  plan  of  re- 
demption may  have  its  influences  and  its 
bearings  on  those  creatures  of  God  who 
people  other  regions,  and  occupy  other 
fields  in  the  immensity  of  his  dominions ; 
that  to  argue,  therefore,  on  this  plan  being 
instituted  for  the  single  benefit  of  the  world 
we  live  in,  and  of  the  species  to  which  we 
belong,  is  a  mere  presumption  of  the  infi- 
del himself;  and  that  the  objection  he  rears 
on  it,  must  fall  to  the  ground,  when  the 
vanity  of  the  presumption  is  exposed.  The 
Christian  apologist  thinks  he  can  go  fur- 
ther than  this — that  he  cannot  merely  ex- 
pose the  utter  baselessness  of  the  infidel 
assertion,  but  that  he  has  positive  ground 
for  erecting  an  opposite  and  a  confronting 
assertion  in  its  place — and  that  after  having 
neutralised  their  position,  by  showing  the 


entire  absence  of  all  observation  in  its  be- 
half, he  can  pass  on  to  the  distinct  affirma- 
tive testimony  of  the  Bible. 

We  do  think  that  this  lays  open  a  very 
interesting  track,  not  of  wild  and  fanciful, 
but  of  most  legitimate  and  sober-minded 
speculation.  And  anxious  as  we  are  to  put 
every  thing  that  bears  upon  the  Christian 
argument  into  all  its  lights  ;  and  fearless  as 
we  feel  for  the  result  of  a  most  thorough  sift- 
ing of  it;  and  thinking  as  we  do  think  it, 
the  foulest  scorn  that  any  pigmy  philoso- 
pher of  the  day  should  mince  his  ambigu- 
ous scepticism  to  a  set  of  giddy  and  igno- 
rant admirers,  or  that  a  half-learned  and 
superficial  public  should  associate  with  the 
christian  priesthood,  the  blindness  and  the 
bigotry  of"  a  sinking  cause — with  these  feel- 
ings, we  are  not  disposed  to  blink  a  single 
question  that  may  be  started  on  the  subject 
of  the  Christian  evidences.  There  is  not 
one  of  its  parts  or  bearings  which  needs  the 
shelter  of  a  disguise  thrown  over  it.  Let 
the  priests  of  another  faith  ply  their  pruden- 
tial expedients,  and  look  so  wise  and  so 
wary  in  the  execution  of  them.  But  Chris- 
tianity stands  in  a  higher  and  a  firmer  atti- 
tude. The  defensive  armour  of  a  shrinking 
or  timid  policy  does  not  suit  her.  Hers  is 
the  naked  majesty  of  truth  ;  and  with  all 
the  grandeur  of  age,  but  with  none  of  its 
infirmities,  has  she  come  down  to  us,  and 
gathered  new  strength  from  the  battles  she 
has  won  in  the  many  controversies  of  many 
generations.  With  such  a  religion  as  this 
there  is  nothing  to  hide.  All  should  be 
above  boards.  And  the  broadest  light  of 
day  should  be  made  fully  and  freely  to  cir- 
culate throughout  all  the  secrecies.  But 
secrets  she  has  none.  To  her  belong  the 
frankness  and  the  simplicity  of  conscious 
greatness  ;  and  whether  she  grapple  it  with 
the  pride  of  philosophy,  or  stand  in  fronted 
opposition  to  the  prejudices  of  the  multitude, 
she  does  it  upon  her  own  strength,  and 
spurns  all  the  props  and  all  the  auxiliaries 
of  superstition  away  from  her. 


DISCOURSE  IV. 

On  the  Knowledge  of  Man's  Moral  History  in  the  Distant  Places  of  Creation. 

"Which  things  the  angels  desire  to  look  into." — 1  Peter  i.  12. 

stance  that  is  within  reach  of  his  hand.  He 
can  smell  a  flower  that  is  presented  to  him. 
He  can  taste  the  food  that  is  before  him. 
He  can  hear  a  sound  of  certain  pitch  and 
intensity  ;  and,  so  much  does  this  sense  of 
hearing  widen  his  intercourse  with  exter- 
nal nature,  that,  from  the  distance  of  miles, 
it  can  bring  him  in  an  occasional  intimation. 


There  is  a  limit,  across  which  man  can- 
not carry  any  one  of  his  perceptions,  and 
from  the  ulterior  of  which  he  cannot  gather  a 
single  observation  to  guide  or  to  inform  him. 
While  he  keeps  by  the  objects  which  are 
near,  he  can  get  the  knowledge  of  them 
conveyed  to  his  mind  through  the  ministry 
of  several  of  the  senses.   He  can  feel  a  sub- 


384 


THE    KNOWLEDGE    OF    MAN'S    MORAL    HISTORY. 


[DISC. 


But  of  all  the  tracks  of  conveyance  which 
God  has  been  pleased  to  open  up  between 
the  mind  of  man,  and  the  theatre  by  which 
he  is  surrounded,  there  is  none  by  which 
he  so  multiplies  his  acquaintance  with 
the  rich  and  the  varied  creation  on  every 
side  of  him,  as  by  the  organ  of  the  eye.  It 
is  this  which  gives  to  him  his  loftiest  com- 
mand over  the  scenery  of  nature.  It  is  this 
by  which  so  broad  a  range  of  observation 
is  submitted  to  him.  It  is  this  which  ena- 
bles him,  by  the  act  of  a  single  moment,  to 
sand  an  exploring  look  over  the  surface  of  an 
ample  territory,  to  crowd  his  mind  with  the 
whole  assembly  of  its  objects,  and  to  fill  his 
vision  with  those  countless  hues  which  di- 
versify and  adorn  it.  It  is  this  which  carries 
him  abroad  over  all  that  is  sublime  in  the 
immensity  of  distance ;  which  sets  him  as 
it  were  on  an  elevated  platform,  from 
whence  he  may  cast  a  surveying  glance 
over  the  arena  of  innumerable  worlds ; 
which  spreads  before  him  so  mighty  a  pro- 
vince of  contemplation,  that  the  earth  he 
inhabits,  only  appears  to  furnish  him  with 
the  pedestal  on  which  he  may  stand,  and 
from  which  he  may  descry  the  wonders  of 
all  that  magnificence  which  the  Divinity 
has  poured  so  abundantly  around  him.  It 
is  by  the  narrow  outlet  of  the  eye,  that  the 
mind  of  man  takes  its  excursive  flight  over 
those  golden  tracks,  where,  in  all  the  ex- 
haustlessness  of  creative  wealth,  lie  scatter- 
ed the  suns,  and  the  systems  of  astronomy. 
But  oh  !  how  good  a  thing  it  is,  and  how  be- 
coming well,  for  the  philosopher  to  be 
humble  even  amid  the  proudest  march  of  hu- 
man discovery,  and  the  sublimest  triumphs 
of  the  human  understanding,  when  he 
thinks  of  that  unsealed  barrier,  beyond 
which  no  power,  either  of  eye  or  of  tele- 
scope, shall  ever  carry  him :  when  he  thinks 
that  on  the  other  side  of  it,  there  is  a  height, 
and  a  depth,  and  a  length,  and  a  breadth, 
to  which  the  whole  of  this  concave  and 
visible  firmament  dwindles  into  the  insig- 
nificancy of  an  atom — and  above  all,  how 
rea4y  should  he  be  to  cast  his  every  lofty 
imagination  away  from  him,  when  he 
thinks  of  the  God,  who,  on  the  simple  foun- 
dation of  his  word,  has  reared  the  whole 
of  this  stately  architecture,  and,  by  the 
force  of  his  preserving  hand,  continues  to 
uphold  it ;  aye,  and  should  the  word  again 
come  out  from  him,  that  this  earth  shall 
pass  away,  and  a  portion  of  the  heavens 
which  are  around  it,  shall  again  fall  back 
into  the  annihilation  from  which  he  at  first 
summoned  them,  what  an  impressive  re- 
buke does  it  bring  on  the  swelling  vanity 
of  science,  to  think  that  the  whole  field  of 
its  most  ambitious  enterprises  may  be  swept 
away  altogether,  and  there  remain  before 
the  eye  of  him  who  sitteth  on  the  throne, 
an  untravelled  immensity,  which  he  hath 
filled   with  innumerable    splendours,  and 


over  the  whole  face  of  which  he  hath  in- 
scribed the  evidence  of  his  high  attributes, 
in  all  their  might,  and  in  all  their  manifes- 
tations. 

But  man  has  a  great  deal  more  to  keep 
him  humble  of  his  understanding,  than  a 
mere  sense  of  that  boundary  which  skirts 
and  terminates  the  material  field  of  his 
contemplations.  He  ought  also  to  feel 
how  within  that  boundary,  the  vast  ma- 
jority of  things  is  mysterious  and  unknown 
to  him  ;  that  even  in  the  inner  chamber  of 
his  own  consciousness,  where  so  much  lies 
hidden  from  the  observation  of  others,  there 
is  also,  to  himself,  a  little  world  of  incom- 
prehensibles ;  that  if  stepping  beyond  the 
limits  of  this  familiar  home,  he  look  no 
further  than  to  the  members  of  his  family, 
there  is  much  in  the  cast  and  the  colour  of 
every  mind  that  is  above  his  powers  of  di- 
vination ;  that  in  proportion  as  he  recedes 
from  the  centre  of  his  own  personal  expe- 
rience, there  is  a  cloud  of  ignorance  and 
secrecy,  which  spreads,  and  thickens,  and 
throws  a  deep  and  impenetrable  veil  over 
the  intricacies  of  every  one  department  of 
human  contemplation  ;  that  of  all  around 
him  his  knowledge  is  naked  and  superficial, 
and  confined  to  a  few  of  those  more  conspicu- 
ous lineaments  which  strike  upon  his  senses; 
that  the  whole  face  both  of  nature  and  of 
society,  presents  him  with  questions  which 
he  cannot  unriddle,  and  tells  him  how  be- 
neath the  surface  of  all  that  the  eye  can 
rest  upon,  there  lies  the  profoundness  of  a 
most  unsearchable  latency;  aye,  and  should 
he  in  some  lofty  enterprise  of  thought,  leave 
this  world,  and  shoot  afar  into  those  tracks  of 
speculation  which  astronomy  has  opened — 
should  he,  baffled  by  the  mysteries  which  be- 
set his  every  footstep  upon  earth  attempt  an 
ambitious  flight  towards  the  mysteries  of 
heaven — let  him  go,  but  let  the  justness  of  a 
pious  and  philosophical  modesty  go  along 
with  him;  let  him  forget  not, that  from  the  mo- 
ment hi  s  mind  has  taken  its  ascending  way  for 
a  few  little  miles  above  the  world  he  treads 
upon,  his  every  sense  abandons'him  but  one — 
that  number,  and  motion,  and  magnitude, 
and  figure,  make  up  all  the  barrenness  of  its 
elementary  informations — that  these  orbs 
have  sent  him  scarce  another  message,  than 
told  by  their  feeble  glimmering  upon  his 
eye,  the  simple  fact  of  their  existence— that 
he  sees  not  the  landscape  of  other  worlds — 
that  he  knows  not  the  moral  system  of  any 
one  of  them — nor  athwart  the  long  and 
trackless  vacancy  which  lies  between,  does 
there  fall  upon  his  listening  ear,  the  hum  of 
their  mighty  populations. 

But  the  knowledge  which  he  cannot 
fetch  up  himself  from  the  obscurity  of  this 
wondrous  but  untravelled  scene,  by  the  ex- 
ercise of  any  one  of  his  own  senses,  might 
be  fetched  to  him  by  the  testimony  of  a 
competent  messenger.     Conceive  a  native 


ir.l 


THE   KNOWLEDGE   OF   MAN'S    MORAL   HISTORY. 


385 


of  one  of  these  planetary  mansions  to  light 
upon  our  world,  and  all  we  should  require, 
would  be,  to  be  satisfied  of  his  credentials, 
that  we  may  tack  our  faith  to  every  point 
of  information  he  had  to  offer  us.  With  the 
solitary  exception  of  what  we  have  been 
enabled  to  gather  by  the  instruments  of 
astronomy,  there  is  not  one  of  his  commu- 
nications about  the  place  he  came  from,  on 
which  we  possess  any  means  at  all  of  con- 
fronting him  ;  and,  therefore,  could  he  only 
appear  before  us  invested  with  the  charac- 
ters of  truth,  we  should  never  think  of  any 
thing  else  than  taking  up  the  whole  matter 
of  his  testimony  just  as  he  brought  it  to  us. 

It  were  well  had  a  sound  philosophy 
schooled  its  professing  disciples  to  the  same 
kind  of  acquiescence  in  another  message, 
which  has  actually  come  to  the  world ;  and 
has  told  us  of  matters  still  more  remote 
from  every  power  of  unaided  observation  ; 
and  has  been  sent  from  a  more  sublime  and 
mysterious  distance,  even  from  that  God 
of  whom  it  is  said,  that  "clouds  and  dark- 
ness are  the  habitation  of  his  throne ;"  and 
treating  of  a  theme  so  lofty  and  so  inacces- 
sible, as  the  counsels  of  that  Eternal  Spirit, 
"  whose  goings  forth  are  of  old,  even  from 
everlasting,"  challenges  of  man  that  he 
should  submit  his  every  thought  to  the  au- 
thority of  this  high  communication.  O  ! 
had  the  philosophers  of  the  day  known  as 
well  as  their  great  Master,  how  to  draw  the 
vigorous  land-mark  which  verges  the  field 
of  legitimate  discovery,  they  should  have 
seen  when  it  is  that  philosophy  becomes 
vain,  and  science  is  falsely  so  called  ;  and 
how  it  is,  that  when  philosophy  is  true  to 
her  principles,  she  shuts  up  her  faithful 
votary  to  the  Bible,  and  makes  him  willing 
to  count  all  but  loss,  for  the  knowledge  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  of  him  crucified. 

But  let  it  be  well  observed,  that  the  object 
of  this  message  is  ijotto  convey  information 
to  us  about  the  state  of  these  planetary  re- 
gions. This  is  not  the  matter  with  which 
it  is  fraught.  It  is  a  message  from  the  throne 
of  God  to  this  rebellious  province  of  his  do- 
minions ;  and  the  purpose  of  it  is,  to  reveal 
the  fearful  extent  of  our  guilt  and  of  our  dan- 
ger, and  to  lay  before  us  the  overtures  of 
reconciliation.  Were  a  similar  message 
sent  from  the  metropolis  of  a  mighty  em- 
pire, to  one  of  its  remote  and  revolutionary 
districts,  we  should  not  look  to  it  for  much 
information  about  the  state  or  economy  of 
the  intermediate  provinces.  This  were  a 
departure  from  the  topic  on  hand — though 
still  there  may  chance  to  be  some  incidental 
allusions  to  the  extent  and  resources  of  the 
whole  monarchy,  to  the  existence  of  a  simi- 
lar spirit  of  rebellion  in  other  quarters  of  the 
land,  or  to  the  general  principle  of  loyalty 
by  which  it  was  pervaded.  Some  casual 
references  of  this  kind  may  be  inserted  in 
such  a  proclamation,  or  they  may  not — 
49 


and  it  is  with  this  precise  feeling  of  ambi- 
guity that  we  open  the  record  of  that  em- 
bassy which  has  been  sent  us  from  heaven, 
to  see  if  we  can  gather  any  thing  there, 
about  other  places  of  the  creation,  to 
meet  the  objections  of  the  infidel  astrono- 
mer. But,  while  we  pursue  this  object,  let 
us  have  a  care  not  to  push  the  speculation 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  written  testimony; 
let  us  keep  a  just  and  a  steady  eye  on  the 
actual  boundary  of  our  knowledge,  that, 
throughout  every  distinct  step  of  our  argu- 
ment, we  might  preserve  that  chaste  and 
unambitious  spirit,  which  characterizes  the 
philosophy  of  him  who  explored  these  dis- 
tant heavens,  and,  by  the  force  of  his  genius, 
unravelled  the  secret  of  that  wondrous  me- 
chanism which  upholds  them. 

The  informations  of  the  Bible  upon  this 
subject,  are  of  two  sorts — that  from  which 
we  confidently  gather  the  fact,  that  the 
history  of  the  redemption  of  our  species  is 
known  in  other  and  distant  places  of  the 
creation — and  that,  from  which  we  indis- 
tinctly guess  at  the  fact,  that  the  redemption 
itself  may  stretch  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
world  we  occupy. 

And,  here  it  may  shortly  be  adverted  to, 
that,  though  we  know  little  or  nothing  of 
the  moral  and  theological  economy  of  the 
other  planets,  we  are  not  to  infer,  that  the 
beings  who  occupy  these  widely  extended 
regions,  even  though  not  higher  than  we 
in  the  scale  of  understanding,  know  little 
of  ours.  Our  first  parents,  ere  they  com- 
mitted that  act  by  which  they  brought  them- 
selves and  their  posterity  into  the  need  of 
redemption,  had  frequent  and  familiar  in- 
tercourse with  God.  He  walked  with  them 
in  the  garden  of  paradise;  and  there  did 
angels  hold  their  habitual  converse;  and, 
should  the  same  unblotted  innocence  which 
charmed  and  attracted  these  superior  beings 
to  the  haunts  of  Eden,  be  perpetuated  in 
every  planet  but  our  own,  then  might  each 
of  them  be  the  scene  of  high  and  heavenly 
communications,  an  open  way  for  the  mes- 
sengers of  God  be  kept  up  with  them  all, 
and  their  inhabitants  be  admitted  to  a  share 
in  the  themes  and  contemplations  of  angels, 
and  have  their  spirit  exercised  on  those 
things,  of  which  we  are  told  that  the  angels 
desired  to  look  into  them;  and  thus,  as  we 
talk  of  the  public  mind  of  a  city,  or  the 
public  mind  of  an  empire — by  the  well-fre- 
quented avenues  of  a  free  and  ready  cir- 
culation, a  public  mind  might  be  formed 
throughout  the  whole  extent  of  God's  sin- 
less and  intelligent  creation — and,  just  as 
we  often  read  of  the  eyes  of  all  Europe 
being  turned  to  the  one  spot  where  some 
affair  of  eventful  importance  is  going  on, 
there  might  be  the  eyes  of  a  whole  universe 
turned  to  the  one  world,  where  rebellion 
against  the  Majesty  of  heaven  had  planted 
its  standard;  and  for  the  re-admission  of 


586 


THE    KNOWLEDGE   OF   MAN'S   MORAL   HISTORY. 


[DISC. 


which  within  the  circle  of  his  fellowship, 
God,  whose  justice  was  inflexible,  but  whose 
mercy  he  had,  by  some  plan  of  mysterious 
wisdom,  made  to  rejoice  over  it,  was  put- 
ting forth  all  the  might,  and  travelling  in  all 
the  greatness  of  the  attributes  which  belong 
to  him. 

But,  for  the  full  understanding  of  this  ar- 
gument, it  must  be  remarked,  that,  while  in 
our  exiled  habitation,  where  all  is  darkness 
and  rebellion,  and  enmity,  the  creature  en- 
grosses every  heart,  and  our  affections, 
when  they  shift  at  all,  only  wander  from 
one  fleeting  vanity  to  another,  it  is  not  so 
in  the  habitations  of  the  unfallen.  There, 
every  desire  and  every  movement  is  subor- 
dinated to  God.  He  is  seen  in  all  that  form- 
ed, and  in  all  that  is  spread  around  them — 
and,  amid  the  fulness  of  that  delight  with 
which  they  expatiate  over  the  good  and  the 
fair  of  this  wondrous  universe,  the  anima- 
ting charm  which  pervades  their  every 
contemplation,  is  that  they  behold,  on  each 
visible  thing,  the  impress  of  the  mind  that 
conceived,  and  of  the  hand  that  made  and 
that  upholds  it.  Here,  God  is  banished  from 
the  thoughts  of  every  natural  man,  and  by 
a  firm  and  constantly  maintained  act  of 
usurpation,  do  the  things  of  sense  and  of 
time  wield  an  entire  ascendancy.  There 
God  is  all  in  all.  They  walk  in  his  light. 
They  rejoice  in  the  beatitudes  of  his  pre- 
sence. The  veil  is  from  off  their  eyes, 
and  they  see  the  character  of  a  presiding 
Divinity  in  every  scene,  and  in  every  event 
to  which  the  Divinity  has  given  birth.  It 
is  this  which  stamps  a  glory  and  an  im- 
portance on  the  whole  field  of  their  contem- 
plations; and  when  they  see  a  new  evolution 
in  the  history  of  created  things,  the  reason 
they  bend  towards  it  so  attentive  an  eye,  is, 
that  it  speaks  to  their  understanding  some 
new  evolution  in  the  purposes  of  God;  some 
new  manifestation  of  his  high  attributes — 
some  new  and  interesting  step  in  the  his- 
tory of  his  sublime  administration. 

Now,  Ave  ought  to  be  aware  how  it  takes 
off,  not  from  the  intrinsic  weight,  but  from 
the  actual  impression  of  our  argument,  that 
this  devoted ness  to  God  which  reigns  in 
other  places  of  the  creation,  this  interest  in 
him  as  the  constant  and  essential  principle 
of  all  enjoyment ;  this  concern  in  the  un- 
taintedness  of  his  glory;  this  delight  in  the 
survey  of  his  perfections  and  his  doings, 
are  what  the  men  of  our  corrupt  and  dark- 
ened world  cannot  sympathize  with. 

But  however  little  we  may  enter  into  it, 
the  Bible  tells  us  by  many  intimations,  that 
among  those  creatures  who  have  not  fallen 
from  their  allegiance,  nor  departed  from  the 
living  God,  God  is  their  all — that  love  to 
him  sits  enthroned  in  their  hearts,  and  fills 
them  with  all  the  ecstacy  of  an  overwhelm- 
ing affection — that  a  sense  of  grandeur 
never  so  elevates  their  souls,  as  when  they 


look  at  the  might  and  majesty  of  the  Eter- 
nal— that  no  field  of  clou  ess  transparency 
so  enchants  them  by  the  blissfulness  of  its 
visions,  as  when  at  the  shrine  of  infinite 
and  unspotted  holiness,  they  bend  them- 
selves in  raptured  adoration — that  no  beauty 
so  fascinates  and  attracts  them,  as  does  that 
moral  beauty  which  throws  a  softening  lus- 
tre over  the  awfulness  of  the  Godhead— 
in  a  word,  that  the  image  of  his  character 
is  ever  present  to  their  contemplations,  and 
the  unceasing  joy  of  their  sinless  existence 
lies  in  the  knowledge  and  the  admiration 
of  the  Deity. 

Let  us  put  forth  an  effort,  and  keep  a 
steady  hold  of  this  consideration ;  for  the 
deadness  of  our  earthly  imaginations  makes 
an  effort  necessary  ;  and  we  shall  perceive, 
that  though  the  world  we  live  in  were  the 
alone  theatre  of  redemption,  there  is  a 
something  in  the  redemption  itself  that  is 
fitted  to  draw  the  eye  of  an  arrested  uni- 
verse towards  it.  Surely,  surely,  where  de- 
light in  God  is  the  constant  enjoyment,  and 
the  earnest  intelligent  contemplation  of  God 
is  the  constant  exercise,  there  is  nothing  in 
the  whole  compass  of  nature  or  of  history, 
that  can  so  set  his  adoring  myriads  upon 
the  gaze,  as  some  new  and  wondrous  evolu- 
tion of  the  character  of  God.  Now  this  is 
found  in  the  plan  of  our  redemption;  nor, 
do  I  see  how  in  any  transaction  between 
the  great  Father  of  existence,  and  the  chil- 
dren who  have  sprung  from  him,  the  moral 
attributes  of  the  Deity  could,  if  I  may  so 
express  myself,  be  put  to  so  severe  and  so 
delicate  a  test.  It  is  true,  that  the  great 
matters  of  sin  and  of  salvation  fall  without 
impression,  on  the  heavy  ears  of  a  listless 
and  alienated  world.  But  they  who,  to  use 
the  language  of  the  Bible,  are  light  in  the 
Lord,  look  otherwise  at  these  things.  They 
see  sin  in  all  its  malignity,  and  salvation  in 
all  its  mysterious  greatness.  Aye,  and  it 
would  put  them  on  the  stretch  of  all  their 
faculties,  when  they  saw  rebellion  lifting 
up  its  standard  against  the  Majesty  of  hea- 
ven, and  the  truth  and  the  justice  of  God 
embarked  on  the  threatenings  he  had  ut- 
tered against  all  the  doers  -of  iniquity,  and 
the  honours  of  that  august  throne,  which 
has  the  firm  pillars  of  immutability  to  rest 
upon,  linked  with  the  fulfilment  of  the  law 
that  had  come  out  from  it ;  and  when  no- 
thing else  was  looked  for,  but  that  God,  by 
putting  forth  the  power  of  his  wrath,  should 
accomplish  his  every  denunciation,  and  vin- 
dicate the  inflexibility  of  his  government, 
and  by  one  sweeping  deed  of  vengeance, 
assert  in  the  sight  of  all  his  creatures,  the 
sovereignty  which  belongeth  to  him — Oh ! 
with  what  desire  must  they  have  pondered 
on  his  ways,  when  amid  the  urgency  of  all 
these  demands  which  looked  so  high  and 
so  indispensable,  they  saw  the  unfoldings 
of  the  attribute  of  mercy — and  how  the 


IV.] 


THE   KNOWLEDGE    OF   MAN'S   MORAL   HISTORY. 


387 


supreme  Lawgiver  was  bending  upon  his 
guilty  creatures  an  eye  of  tenderness — and 
how  in  his  profound  and  unsearchable  wis- 
dom, he  was  devising  for  them  some  plan 
of  restoration — and  how  the  eternal  Son  had 
to  move  from  his  dwelling-place  in  heaven, 
to  carry  it  forward  through  all  the  difficul- 
ties by  which  it  was  encompassed — and 
how,  after,  by  the  virtue  of  his  mysterious 
sacrifice,  he  had  magnified  the  glory  of 
every  other  perfection,  he  made  mercy  re- 
joice over  them  all,  and  threw  open  a  way 
by  which  we  sinful  and  polluted  wanderers 
might,  with  the  whole  lustre  of  the  Divine 
character  untarnished,  be  re-admitted  into 
fellowship  with  God,  and  be  again  brought 
back  within  the  circle  of  his  loyal  and  affec- 
tionate family. 

Now,  the  essential  character  of  such  a 
transaction,  viewed  as  a  manifestation  of 
God,  does  not  hang  upon  the  number  of 
worlds,  over  which  this  sin  and  this  salva- 
tion may  have  extended.  We  know  that 
over  this  one  world  such  an  economy  of 
wisdom  and  of  mercy  is  instituted — and, 
even  should  this  be  the  only  world  that  is 
embraced  by  it,  the  moral  display  of  the 
Godhead  is  mainly  and  substantially  the 
same,  as  if  it  reached  throughout  the  whole 
of  that  habitable  extent  which  the  science 
of  astronomy  has  made  known  to  us.  By 
the  disobedience  of  this  one  world,  the  law 
was  trampled  on ;  and,  in  the  business  of 
making  truth  and  mercy  to  meet,  and  have 
a  harmonious  accomplishment  on  the  men 
of  this  world,  the  dignity  of  God  was  put 
to  the  same  trial ;  the  justice  of  God  ap- 
peared to  lay  the  same  immoveable  barrier ; 
the  wisdom  of  God  had  to  clear  a  way 
through  the  same  difficulties ;  the  forgive- 
ness of  God  had  to  find  the  same  myste- 
rious conveyance  to  the  sinners  of  a  solitary 
world,  as  to  the  sinners  of  half  a  universe. 
The  extent  of  the  field  upon  which  this 
question  was  decided,  has  no  more  influence 
on  the  question  itself,  than  the  figure  or  the 
dimensions  of  that  field  of  combat,  on  which 
some  great  political  question  was  fought, 
lias  on  the  importance  or  on  the  moral 
principles  of  the  controversy  that  gave  rise 
to  it.  This  objection  about  the  narrowness 
of  the  theatre,  carries  along  with  it  all  the 
grossness  of  materialism.  To  the  eye  of 
spiritual  and  intelligent  beings, it  is  nothing. 
In  their  view,  the  redemption  of  a  sinful 
world  derives  its  chief  interest  from  the 
display  it  gives  of  the  mind  and  purposes 
of  the  Deity — and,  should  that  world  be  but 
a  single  speck  in  the  immensity  of  the 
works  of  God,  the  only  way  in  which  this 
affects  their  estimate  of  him,  is  to  magnify 
his  loving  kindness — who  rather  than  lose 
one  solitary  world  of  the  myriads  he  has 
formed,  would  lavish  all  the  riches  of  his 
beneficence  and  of  his  wisdom  on  the  re- 
covery of  its  guilty  population. 


Now,  though  it  must  be  admitted  that  the 
Bible  does  not  speak  clearly  or  decisively 
as  to  the  proper  effect  of  redemption  being 
extended  to  other  worlds;  it  speaks  most 
clearly  and  most  decisively  about  the  know- 
ledge of  it  being  disseminated  among  other 
orders  of  created  intelligence  than  our  own. 
But  if  the  contemplation  of  God  be  their 
supreme  enjoyment,  then  the  very  circum- 
stance of  our  redemption  being  known  to 
them,  may  invest  it,  even  though  it  be  but 
the  redemption  of  one  solitary  world,  with 
an  importance  as  wide  as  the  universe  itself. 
It  may  spread  among  the  hosts  of  immen- 
sity a  new  illustration  of  the  character  of 
Him  who  is  all  their  praise,  and  looking  to- 
ward whom  every  energy  within  them  is 
moved  to  the  exercise  of  a  deep  and  de- 
lighted admiration.  The  scene  of  the  trans- 
action may  be  narrow  in  point  of  material 
extent ;  while  in  the  transaction  itself  there 
may  be  such  a  moral  dignity,  as  to  blazon 
the  perfections  of  the  Godhead  over  the 
face  of  creation ;  and  from  the  manifested 
glory  of  the  Eternal,  to  send  forth  a  tide  of 
ecstacy,  and  of  high  gratulation,  through- 
out the  whole  extent  of  his  dependent  pro- 
vinces. 

I  will  not,  in  proof  of  the  position,  that 
the  history  of  our  redemption  is  known  in 
other  and  distant  places  of  creation,  and 
is  matter  of  deep  interest  and  feeling  among 
other  orders  of  created  intelligence — I  will 
not  put  down  all  the  quotations  which 
might  be  assembled  together  upon  this  ar- 
gument. It  is  an  impressive  circumstance, 
than  when  Moses  and  Elias  made  a  visit  to 
our  Saviour  on  the  mount  of  transfigura- 
tion, and  appeared  in  glory  from  heaven, 
the  topic  they  brought  along  with  them, 
and  with  which  they  were  fraught,  was  the 
decease  he  was  going  to  accomplish  at  Je- 
rusalem. And  however  insipid  the  things 
of  our  salvation  may  be  to  an  earthly  un- 
derstanding; we  are  made  to  know,  that  in 
the  sufferings  of  Christ,  and  the  glory  which 
should  follow,  there  is  matter  to  attract  the 
notice  of  celestial  spirits,  for  these  are  the 
very  things,  says  the  Bible,  which  angels 
desire  to  look  into.  And  however  listlessly 
we,  the  dull  and  grovelling  children  of  an 
exiled  family,  may  feel  about  the  perfec- 
tions of  the  Godhead,  and  the  display  of 
those  perfections  in  the  economy  of  the 
Gospel,  it  is  intimated  to  us  in  the  book  of 
God's  message,  that  the  creaiion  has  its 
districts  and  its  provinces ;  and  we  accord- 
ingly read  of  thrones,  and  dominions,  and 
principalities,  and  powers;  and  whether 
these  terms  denote  the  separate  regions  of 
government,  or  the  beings  who,  by  a  com- 
mission granted  from  the  sanctuary  of  hea- 
ven, sit  in  delegated  authority  over  them  — 
even  in  their  eyes  the  mystery  of  Christ 
stands  arrayed  in  all  the  splendour  of  un 
searchable  riches ;  for  we  are  told  that  this 


THE    KNOWLEDGE    OF   MAN'S    MORAL   HISTORY. 


[DISC. 


mystery  was  revealed  for  the  very  intent, 
that  unto  the  principalities  and  powers  in 
heavenly  places,  might  be  made  known  by 
the  church,  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God. 
And  while  we,  whose  prospect  reaches  not 
beyond  the  narrow  limits  of  the  corner  we 
occupy,  look  on  the  dealings  of  God  in  the 
world,  as  carrying  in  them  all  the  insignifi- 
cancy of  a  provincial  transaction ;  God  him- 
self, wnose  eye  reaches  to  places  which  our 
eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  our  ear  heard  of, 
neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  imagination 
of  our  heart  to  conceive,  stamps  a  univer- 
sality on  the  whole  matter  of  the  Christian 
salvation,  by  such  revelations  as  the  fol- 
lowing :  That  he  is  to  gather  together  in 
one  all  things  in  Christ,  both  which  are  in 
heaven,  and  which  are  in  earth,  even  in 
him — and  that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every 
knee  should  bow,  of  things  in  heaven,  and 
things  in  earth,  and  things  under  the  earth — 
and  that  by  him  God  reconciled  all  things 
unto  himself,  whether  they  be  things  in 
earth,  or  things  in  heaven. 

We  will  not  say  in  how  far  some  of  these 
passages  extend  the  proper  effect  of  that 
redemption  which  is  by  Christ  Jesus,  to 
other   quarters  of  the  universe  of  God  ; 
but  they  at  least  go  to  establish  a  widely 
disseminated  knowledge  of  this  transaction 
among  the  other  orders  of  created  intelli- 
gence.   And  they  give  us  a  distant  glimpse 
of  something  more  extended.  They  present 
a  faint  opening,  through  which  may  be  seen 
some  few  traces  of  a  wider  and  a  nobler 
dispensation.    They  bring  before  us  a  dim 
transparency,  on  the  other  side  of  which 
the  images  of  an  obscure  magnificence  daz- 
zle indistinctly  upon  the  eye ;  and  tell  us 
that  in  the  economy  of  redemption,  there  is 
a  grandeur  commensurate  to  all   that  is 
known  of  the  other  works  and  purposes  of 
the  Eternal.   They  offer  us  no  details ;  and 
man,  who  ought  not  to  attempt  a  wisdom 
above  that  which  is  written,  should  never 
put  forth  his  hand  to  the  drapery  of  that 
impenetrable  curtain  which  God  in  his  mys- 
terious wisdom  has  spread  over  those  ways, 
of  which  it  is  but  a  very  small  portion  that 
we  know  of  them.    But  certain  it  is,  that 
we  know  as  much  of  them  from  the  Bible; 
and  the  infidel,  witli  all  the  pride  of  his 
boasted  astronomy,  knows  so  little  of  them, 
from  any  power  of  observation,  that  the 
baseless  argument  of  his,  on  which  we  have 
dwelt  so  long,  is  overborne  in  the  light  of 
all  that  positive  evidence  which  God  has 
poured  around  the  record  of  his  own  testi- 
mony, and  even  in  the  light  of  its  more 
obscure  and  casual  intimations. 

The  minute  and  variegated  details  of  the 
way  in  which  this  wondrous  economy  is 
extended,  God  has  chosen  to  withhold  from 
us ;  but  he  has  oftener  than  once  made  to 
us  a  broad  and  a  general  announcement  of 
its  dignity.    He  does  not  tell  us  whether 


the  fountain  opened  in  the  house  of  Judah, 
for  sin  and  for  uncleanness,  send  forth  its 
healing  streams  to  other  worlds  than  our 
own.  He  does  not  tell  us  the  extent  of  the 
atonement.  But  he  tells  us  that  the  atone- 
ment itself,  known  as  it  is  among  the  my- 
riads of  the  celestial,  forms  the  high  song 
of  eternity;  that  the  Lamb  who  was  slain, 
is  surrounded  by  the  acclamations  of  one 
wide  and  universal  empire ;  that  the  might 
of  his  wondrous  achievements,  spreads  a 
tide  of  gratulation  over  the  multitudes  who 
are  about  his  throne ;  and  that  there  never 
ceases  to  ascend  from  the  worshippers  of 
him  who  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his 
blood,  a  voice  loud  as  from  numbers  with- 
out number,  sweet  as  from  blessed  voices 
uttering  joy,  when  heaven  rings  jubilee,  and 
loud  hosannas  fill  the  eternal  regions. 

"And  I  beheld,  and  I  heard  the  voice  of 
many  angels  round  about  the  throne,  and 
the  number  of  them  was  ten  thousand  times 
ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of  thousands ; 
saying  with  a  loud  voice,  Worthy  is  the 
Lamb  that  was  slain,  to  receive  power,  and 
riches,  and  wisdom,  and  strength,  and  glory, 
and  honour,  and  blessing.  And  every  crea- 
ture which  is  in  heaven,  and  on  earth,  and 
under  the  earth,  and  such  as  are  in  the  sea, 
and  all  that  are  in  them,  heard  I  saying, 
Blessing,  and  honour,  and  glory,  and  power, 
be  unto  him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and 
unto  the  Lamb,  forever  and  ever." 

A  king  might  have  the  whole  of  his  reign 
crowded   with    the    enterprises  of  glory: 
and  by  the  might  of  his  arms,  and  the  wis- 
dom of  his  counsels  might  win   the  first 
reputation    among    the   potentates  of    the 
world;  and  be  idolized  throughout  all  his 
provinces,  for  the  wealth  and  the  security 
that  he  had  spread  around  them — and  still 
it  is  conceivable,  that  by  the  act  of  a  sin- 
gle day  in  behalf  of  a  single  family;  by 
some  soothing  visitation  of  tenderness  to  a 
poor  and  solitary  cottage ;   by  some  deed 
of  compassion,  which   conferred  enlarge- 
ment and  relief  on  one  despairing  sufferer; 
by  some  graceful  movement  of  sensibility 
at  a  tale  of  wretchedness;  by  some  noble 
effort  of  self-denial,  in  virtue  of  which  he 
subdued  his  every  purpose  of  revenge,  and 
spread  the  mantle  of  a  generous  oblivion 
over  the  fault  of  the  man  who  has  insulted 
and  aggrieved  him  ;  above  all,  by  an  exer- 
cise of  pardon  so  skilfully  administered,  as 
that  instead  of  bringing  him  down  to  a  state 
of  defencelessness  against  the  provocation 
of  future  injuries,  it  threw  a  deeper  sacred- 
ness  over  him,  and  stamped  a  more  invio- 
lable dignity  than  ever  on  his  person  and 
character: — why,    my    brethren,    on    the 
strength  of  one  such  performance,  done  in 
a  single  hour,  and  reaching  no  further  in 
its  immediate  effects  than  to  one  house,  or 
to  one   individual,   it  is  a  most  possible 
thing,  that  the  highest  monarch  upon  earth 


iv.l 


THE   KNOWLEDGE   OF   MAN'S   MORAL   HISTORY. 


389 


might  draw  such  a  lustre  around  him  as 
would  eclipse  the  renown  of  all  his  public 
achievements — and  that  such  a  display  of 
magnanimity,  or  of  worth,  beaming  from 
the  secrecy  of  his  familiar  moments,  might 
waken  a  more  cordial  veneration  in  every 
bosom,  than  all  the  splendour  of  his  con- 
spicuous history — aye,  and  that  it  might 
pass  down  to  posterity,  as  a  more  enduring 
monument  of  greatness,  and  raise  him  fur- 
ther by  its  moral  elevation  above  the  level 
of  ordinary  praise ;  and  when  he  passes  in 
review  before  the  men  of  distant  ages,  may 
this  deed  of  modest,  gentle,  unobtrusive  vir- 
tue, be  at  all  times  appealed  to,  as  the 
most  sublime  and  touching  memorial  of  his 
name. 

In  like  manner  did  the  King  eternal, 
immortal,  and  invisible,  surrounded  as  he  is 
with  the  splendours  of  a  wide  and  everlast- 
ing monarchy,  turn  him  to  our  humble 
habitation  ;  and  the  foot-steps  of  God  mani- 
fest in  the  flesh,  have  been  on  the  narrow 
spot  of  ground  we  occupy;  and  small 
though  our  mansion  be,  amid  the  orbs  and 
the  systems  of  immensity,  hither  hath  the 
King  of  glory  bent  his  mysterious  way,  and 
entered  the  tabernacle  of  men,  and  in  the 
disguise  of  a  servant  did  he  sojourn  for 
years  under  the  roof  which  canopies  our 
obscure  and  solitary  world.  Yes,  it  is  but  a 
twinkling  atom  in  the  peopled  infinity  of 
worlds  that  are  around  it — but  look  to  the 
mural  grandeur  of  the  transaction,  and  not 
to  the  material  extent  of  the  field  upon 
which  it  was  executed — and  from  the  re- 
tirement of  our  dwelling-place,  there  may 
issue  forth  such  a  display  of  the  Godhead, 
as  will  circulate  the  glories  of  his  name 
among  all  his  worshippers.  Here  sin  en- 
tered. Here  was  the  kind  and  universal 
beneficence  of  a  Father,  repaid  by  the  in- 
gratitude of  a  whole  family.  Here  the  law 
of  God  was  dishonoured,  and  that  too  in 
the  face  of  its  proclaimed  and  unalterable 
sanctions.  Here  the  mighty  contest  of  the 
attributes  was  ended — and  when  justice 
put  forth  its  demands,  and  truth  called  for 
the  fulfilment  of  its  warnings,  and  the  im- 
mutability of  God  would  not  recede  by  a 
single  iota,  from  any  one  of  its  positions, 
and  all  tin-  severities  he  had  ever  uttered 
against  the  children  of  iniquity,  seemed  to 
gather  into  one  cloud  of  threatening  venge- 
ance on  the  tenement  that  held  us — did  the 
visit  of  the  only-begotten  Son  chase  away 
all  these  obstacles  to  the  triumph  of  mercy — 
and  humble  as  the  tenement  may  be,  deeply 
shaded  in  the  obscurity  of  insignificance  as 
it  is,  among  the  statelier  mansions  which 
are  on  every  side  of  it — yet  will  the  recal 
of  its  exiled  family  never  be  forgotten — and 
the  illustration  that  has  been  given  here 
of  the  mingled  grace  and  majesty  of  God, 
will  never  lose  its  place  among  the  themes 
and  the  acclamations  of  eternity. 


And  here  it  may  be  remarked,  that  as  the 
earthly  king  who  throws  a  moral  aggran- 
dizement around  him,  by  the  act  of  a  single 
day,  finds,  that  after  its  performance,  he 
may  have  the  space  of  many  years  for  ga- 
thering to  himself  the  triumphs  of  an  ex- 
tended reign — so  the  king  who  sits  on 
high,  and  with  whom  one  day  is  as  a  thou- 
sand years,  and  a  thousand  years  as  one 
day,  will  find,  that  after  the  period  of  that 
special  administration  is  ended,  by  which 
this  strayed  world  is  again  brought  back 
within  the  limits  of  his  favoured  creation, 
there  is  room  enough  along  the  mighty 
track  of  eternity,  for  accumulating  upon 
himself  a  glory  as  wide  and  as  universal  as 
is  the  extent  of  his  dominions.  You  will 
allow  the  most  illustrious  of  this  worla's 
potentates,  to  give  some  hour  of  his  private 
history  to  a  deed  of  cottage  or  domestic 
tenderness ;  and  every  time  you  think  of  the 
interesting  story,  you  will  feel  how  sweetly 
and  how  gracefully  the  remembrance  of  it 
blends  itself  with  the  fame  of  his  public 
achievements.  But  still  you  think  thai 
there  would  not  have  been  room  enough 
for  these  achievements  of  his,  had  much  of 
his  time  been  spent,  either  among  the  habi- 
tations of  the  poor,  or  in  the  retirement  of 
his  own  family;  and  you  conceive,  that  it 
is  because  a  single  day  bears  so  small  a  pro- 
portion to  the  time  of  his  whole  history, 
that  he  has  been  able  to  combine  an  in- 
teresting display  of  private  worth,  with  all 
that  brilliancy  of  exhibition,  which  has 
brought  him  down  to  posterity  in  the 
character  of  an  august  and  a  mighty  sove- 
reign. 

Now  apply  this  to  the  matter  before  us. 
Had  the  history  of  our  redemption  been 
confined  within  the  limits  of  a  single  day, 
the  argument  that  infidelity  has  drawn 
from  the  multitude  of  other  worlds,  would 
never  have  been  offered.  It  is  true,  that 
ours  is  but  an  insignificant  portion  of  the 
territory  of  God — but  if  the  attentions  by 
which  he  has  signalized  it,  had  only  taken 
up  a  single  day,  this  would  never  have  oc- 
curred to  us  as  forming  any  sensible  with- 
drawment  of  the  mind  of  the  Deity  from 
the  concerns  of  his  vast  and  universal  go- 
vernment. It  is  the  time  which  the  plan  of 
our  salvation  requires,  that  startles  all  those 
on  whom  this  argument  has  any  impres- 
sion. It  is  the  time  taken  up  about  this 
paltry  world,  which  they  feel  to  be  out  of 
proportion  to  the  number  of  other  worlds, 
and  to  the  immensity  of  the  surrounding 
creation.  Now,  to  meet  this  impression,  I  do 
not  insist  at  present  on  what  I  have  already 
brought  forward,  that  God,  whose  ways 
are  not  as  our  ways,  can  have  his  eye  at 
the  same  instant  on  every  place,  and  can 
divide  and  diversify  his  attention  into  any 
number  of  distinct  exercises.  What  I  have 
now  to  remark,  is,  that  the  infidel  who 


390 


SYMPATHY    FOR    MAN   IN   DISTANT   PLACES   OF   CREATION. 


[DISC 


urges  the  astronomical  objection  to  the 
truth  of  Christianity,  is  only  looking  with 
half  an  eye  to  the  principle  on  which  it 
rests.  Carry  out  the  principle,  and  the 
objection  vanishes.  He  looks  abroad  on 
the  immensity  of  space,  and  tells  us  how 
impossible  it  is,  that  this  narrow  corner  of 
it  can  be  so  distinguished  by  the  attentions 
of  the  Deity.  Why  does  he  not  also  look 
abroad  on  the  magnificence  of  eternity;  and 
perceive  how  the  whole  period  of  these  pe- 
culiar attentions,  how  the  whole  time  which 
elapses  between  the  fall  of  man  and  the  con- 
summation of  the  scheme  of  his  recovery,  is 
but  the  twinkling  of  a  moment  to  the  mighty 
roll  of  innumerable  ages  ?  The  whole  inter- 
val between  the  time  of  Jesus  Christ's  leav- 
ing his  Father's  abode,  to  sojourn  among 
us,  to  that  time  when  he  shall  have  put  all 
his  enemies  under  his  feet,  and  delivered 
up  the  kingdom  to  God,  even  his  Father, 
that  God  may  be  all  in  all;  the  whole  of  this 
interval  bears  as  small  a  proportion  to  the 
whole  of  the  Almighty's  reign,  as  this  soli- 
tary world  does  to  the  universe  around  it, 
and  an  infinitely  smaller  proportion  than 
any  time,  however  short,  which  an  earthly 
monarch  spends  on  some  enterprise  of  pri- 
vate benevolence,  does  to  the  whole  walk  of 
his  public  and  recorded  history. 

Why,  then,  does  not  the  man,  who  can 
shoot  his  conceptions  so  sublimely  abroad 
over  the  field  of  an  immensity  that  knows 


no  limits — why  does  he  not  also  shoo* 
them  forward  through  the  vista  of  a  suc- 
cession, that  ever  flows  without  stop  and 
without  termination?  He  has  burst  across 
the  confines  of  this  world's  habitation  in 
space,  and  out  of  the  field  which  lies  on  the 
other  side  of  it,  has  he  gathered  an  argu- 
ment against  the  truth  of -revelation.  I  feel 
that  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  burst 
across  the  confines  of  this  world's  history 
in  time,  and  out  of  the  futurity  which  lies 
beyond  it,  can  I  gather  that  which  will 
blow  the  argument  to  pieces,  or  stamp  up- 
on it  all  the  narrowness  of  a  partial  and 
mistaken  calculation.  The  day  is  coming, 
when  the  whole  of  this  wondrous  history 
shall  be  looked  back  upon  by  the  eye  of  the 
remembrance,  and  be  regarded  as  one  in- 
cident in  the  extended  annals  of  creation, 
and  with  all  the  illustration  and  all  the 
glory  it  has  thrown  on  the  character  of  the 
Deity,  will  it  be  seen  as  a  single  step  in  the 
evolution  of  his  designs;  and  long  as  the 
time  may  appear,  from  the  first  act  of  our 
redemption  to  its  final  accomplishment, 
and  close  and  exclusive  as  we  may  think 
the  attentions  of  God  upon  it,  it  will  be 
found  that  it  has  left  him  room  enough  for 
all  his  concerns,  and  that  on  the  high  scale 
of  eternity,  it  is  but  one  of  those  passing 
and  ephemeral  transactions,  which  crowd 
the  history  of  a  never-ending  administra- 
tion. 


DISCOURSE  V. 
On  the  Sympathy  that  is  felt  for  Man  in  the  Distant  Places  of  Creation. 

'1  say  unto  you,  that  likewise  joy  shall  be  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  more  than  over  ninety 
and  nine  just  persons  which  need  no  repentance." — Luke  xv.  7 


I  have  already  attempted  at  full  length 
to  establish  the  position,  that  the  infidel  ar- 
gument of  astronomers  goes  to  expunge  a 
natural  perfection  from  the  character  of 
God,  even  that  wondrous  property  of  his, 
by  which  he,  at  the  same  instant  of  time, 
can  bend  a  close  and  a  careful  attention  on 
a  countless  diversity  of  objects,  and  diffuse 
the  intimacy  of  his  power  and  of  his  pre- 
sence, from  the  greatest  to  the  minutest  and 
most  insignificant  of  them  all.  I  also  ad- 
verted shortly  to  this  other  circumstance, 
that  it  went  to  impair  a  moral  attribute  of 
the  Deity.  It  goes  to  impair  the  benevo- 
lence of  his  nature.  It  is  saying  much  for 
the  benevolence  of  God,  to  say,  that  a  single 
world,  or  a  single  system,  is  not  enough  for 
it — that  it  must  have  the  spread  of  a  mightier 
region,  on  which  it  may  pour  forth  a  tide  of 
exuberancy  throughout  all  its  provinces — 
that  as  far  as  our  vision  can  carry  us,  it  has 


strewed  immensity  with  the  floating  recep- 
tacles of  life,  and  has  stretched  over  each  of 
them  the  garniture  of  such  a  sky  as  mantles 
our  own  habitation — and  that  even  from 
distances  which  are  far  beyond  the  reach 
of  human  eye,  the  songs  of  gratitude  and 
praise  may  now  be  arising  to  the  one  God, 
who  sits  surrounded  by  the  regards  of  his 
one  great  and  universal  family. 

Now,  it  is  saying  much  for  the  benevolence 
of  God,  to  say  that  it  sends  forth  these  wide 
and  distant  emanations  over  the  surface  of  a 
territory  so  ample,  that  the  world  we  inha- 
bit, lying  imbedded  as  it  does  amidst  so 
much  surrounding  greatness,  shrinks  into  a 
point  that  to  the  universal  eye  might  appear 
to  be  almost  imperceptible.  But  does  it  not 
add  to  the  power  and  to  the  perfection  of 
this  universal  eye,  that  at  the  very  moment 
it  is  taking  a  comprehensive  survey  of  the 
vast,  it  can  fasten  a  steady  and  undistracted 


v.] 


SYMPATHY   FOR   MAN   IN   DISTANT    PLACES   OF   CREATION. 


391 


attention  on  each  minute  and  separate  port  ion 
of  it ;  that  at  the  very  moment  it  is  looking  at 
all  worlds,it  can  look  most  pointedly  and  most 
intelligently  to  each  of  them :  that  at  the  very 
moment  it  sweeps  the  field  of  immensity, 
it  can  settle  all  the  earnestness  of  its  regards 
upon  every  distinct  hand-breadth  of  that 
field  ;  that  at  the  very  moment  at  which  it 
embraces  the  totality  of  existence,  it  can 
send  a  most  thorough  and  penetrating  in- 
spection into  eacli  of  its  details,  and  into 
every  one  of  its  endless  diversities  ?  You 
cannot  fail  to  perceive  how  much  this  adds 
to  the  power  of  the  all-seeing  eye.  Tell  me, 
then,  if  it  do  not  add  as  much  perfection  to 
the  benevolence  of  God,  that  while  it  is  ex- 
patiating over  the  vast  field  of  created  things, 
there  is  not  one  portion  of  the  field  over- 
looked by  it ;  that  while  it  scatters  blessings 
over  the  whole  of  an  infinite  range,  it  causes 
them  to  descend  in  a  shower  of  plenty  on 
every  separate  habitation :  that  while  his 
arm  is  underneath  and  round  about  all 
worlds,  he  enters  within  the  precincts  of 
every  one  of  them,  and  gives  a  care  and  a 
tenderness  to  each  individual  of  their  teem- 
ing population.  Oh !  does  not  the  God,  who 
is  said  to  be  love,  shed  over  this  attribute  of 
his  its  finest  illustration,  when,  while  he  sits 
in  the  highest  heaven,  and  pours  out  his  ful- 
ness on  the  whole  subordinate  domain  of 
nature  and  of  providence,  he  bows  a  pitying 
regard  on  the  very  humblest  of  his  chil- 
dren, and  sends  his  reviving  Spirit  into  every 
heart,  and  cheers  by  his  presence  every 
home,  and  provides  for  the  wants  of  every 
family,  and  watches  every  sick-bed,  and 
listens  to  the  complaints  of  every  sufferer ; 
and  while  by  his  wondrous  mind  the  weight 
of  universal  government  is  borne,  oh  !  is  it 
not  more  wondrous  and  more  excellent  still, 
that  he  feels  for  every  sorrow,  and  has  an 
ear  open  to  every  prayer?- 

"  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall 
be,"  says  the  apostle  John,  "  but  we  know 
that  when  he  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like 
him,  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is."  It  is 
the  present  lot  of  the  angels,  that  they  be- 
hold the  face  of  our  Father  in  heaven,  and 
it  would  seem  as  if  the  effect  of  this  was  to 
form  and  to  perpetuate  in  them  the  moral 
likeness  of  himself,  and  that  they  reflect 
back  upon  him  his  own  image,  and  that 
thus  a  diffused  resemblance  to  the  Godhead 
is  kept  up  among  all  those  adoring  worship- 
pers who  live  in  the  near  and  rejoicing  con- 
templation of  the  Godhead.  Mark  then  how 
that  peculiar  ami  endearing  feature  in  the 
goodness  of  the  Deity,  which  we  have  just 
now  adverted  to — mark  how  bcauteously  it 
is  reflected  downwards  upon  us  in  the  re- 
vealed attitude  of  angels.  From  the  high 
eminences  of  heaven,  are  they  bending  a 
wakeful  regard  over  the  men  of  this  sinful 
world  ;  and  the  repentance  of  every  one  of 
them  spreads  a  joy  and  a  high  gratulation 


throughout  all  its  dwelling  places.  Put  this 
trait  of  the  angelic  character  into  contrast 
with  the  dark  and  lowering  spirit  of  an  infi- 
del. He  is  told  of  the  multitude  of  other 
worlds,  and  he  feels  a  kindling  magnificence 
in  the  conception,  and  he  is  seduced  by  an 
elevation  which  he  cannot  carry,  and  from 
this  airy  summit  does  he  look  down  on  the 
insignificance  of  the  world  we  occupy,  and 
pronounces  it  to  be  unworthy  of  those  visits 
and  of  those  attentions  which  we  read  of  in 
the  New  Testament.  He  is  unable  to  wing 
his  way  upward  along  the  scale,  either  of 
moral  or  of  natural  perfection ;  and  when 
the  wonderful  extent  of  the  field  is  made 
known  to  him,  over  which  the  wealth  of 
the  Divinity  is  lavished — there  he  stops,  and 
wilders,  and  altogether  misses  this  essential 
perception,  that  the  power  and  perfection 
of  the  Divinity  are  not  more  displayed  by 
the  mere  magnitude  of  the  field,  than  they 
are  by  that  minute  and  exquisite  filling  up, 
which  leaves  not  its  smallest  portions  ne- 
glected ;  but  which  imprints  the  fulness  of 
the  Godhead  upon  every  one  of  them ;  and 
proves,  by  every  flower  of  the  pathless  de- 
sert, as  well  as  by  every  orb  of  immensity, 
how  this  unsearchable  being  can  care  for  all, 
and  provide  for  all ;  and,  throned  in  mystery 
too  high  for  us,  can,  throughout  every  in- 
stant of  time,  keep  his  attentive  eye  on  every 
separate  thing  that  he  has  formed,  and  by  an 
act  of  his  thoughtful  and  presiding  intelli- 
gence, can  constantly  embrace  all. 

But  God,  compassed  about  as  he  is  with 
light  inaccessible,  and  full  of  glory,  lies  so 
hidden  from  the  ken  and  conception  of  all 
our  faculties,  that  the  spirit  of  man  sinks 
exhausted  by  its  attempts  to  comprehend 
him.  Could  the  image  of  the  Supreme  be 
placed  direct  before  the  eye  of  the  mind, 
that  flood  of  splendour,  which  is  ever  issuing 
from  him  on  all  who  have  the  privilege  of 
beholding,  would  not  only  dazzle,  but  over- 
power us.  And  therefore  it  is,  that  I  bid 
you  look  to  the  reflection  of  tlrat  image,  and 
thus  to  take  a  view  of  its  mitigated  glories, 
and  to  gather  the  lineaments  of  the  God- 
head in  the  face  of  those  righteous  angels, 
who  have  never  thrown  away  from  them 
the  resemblance  in  which  they  were  created ; 
and,  unable  as  you  are  to  support  the  grace 
and  the  majesty  of  that  countenance,  before 
which  the  sons  and  the  prophets  of  other 
days  fell,  and  became  as  dead  men,  let  us, 
before  we  bring  this  argument  to  a  close, 
borrow  one  lesson  of  Him  who  sitteth  on 
the  throne,  from  the  aspect  and  the  revealed 
doings  of  those  who  are  surrounding  it. 

The  infidel,  then,  as  he  widens  the  field 
of  his  contemplations  would  suffer  its  every 
separate;  object  to  die  away  into  forgetful- 
ness:  these  angels,  expatiating  as  they  do 
over  the  range  of  a  loftier  universality,  are 
represented  as  all  awake  to  the  history  of 
each  of  its  distinct  and  subordinate  provin- 


392 


SYMPATHY   FOR    MAN    IN    DISTANT    PLACES   OF   CREATION. 


[disc 


ces.  The  infidel,  with  his  mind  afloat  among 
suns  and  among  systems,  can  find  no  place 
in  his  already  occupied  regards,  for  that 
humble  planet  which  lodges  and  accommo- 
dates our  species ;  the  angels,  standing  on  a 
loftier  summit,  and  with  a  mightier  prospect 
of  creation  before  them,  are  yet.  represented 
as  looking  down  on  this  single  world,  and 
attentively  marking  the  every  feeling  and 
the  every  demand  of  all  its  families.  The 
infidel,  by  sinking  us  down  to  an  unnotiee- 
able  minuteness,  would  lose  sight  of  our 
dwelling-place  altogether,  and  spread  a  dark- 
ening shroud  of  oblivion  over  all  the  con- 
cerns and  all  the  interests  of  men  ;  but  the 
angels  will  not  so  abandon  us  ;  and  undaz- 
zled  by  the  whole  surpassing  grandeur  of 
that  scenery  which  is  around  them,  are  they 
revealed  as  directing  all  the  fulness  of  their 
regard  to  this  our  habitation,  and  casting  a 
longing  and  benignant  eye  on  ourselves  and 
on  our  children.  The  infidel  will  tell  us  of 
those  worlds  which  roll  afar,  and  the  num- 
ber of  which  outstrips  the  arithmetic  of  the 
human  understanding — and  then  with  the 
hardness  of  an  unfeeling  calculation,  will 
he  consign  the  one  we  occupy,  with  all  its 
guilty  generations,  to  despair. 

But  he  who  counts  the  number  of  the 
stars,  is  set  forth  to  us  as  looking  at  every 
inhabitant  among  tne  millions  of  our  spe- 
cies, and  by  the  word  of  the  Gospel  beck- 
oning to  him  with  the  hand  of  invitation, 
and  on  the  very  first  step  of  his  return,  as 
moving  towards  him  with  all  the  eagerness 
of  the  prodigal's  father,  to  receive  him 
back  again  into  that  presence  from  which 
he  had  wandered.  And  as  to  this  world, 
in  favour  of  which  the  scowling  infidel  will 
not  permit  one  solitary  movement,  all  hea- 
ven is  represented  as  in  a  stir  about  its  re- 
storation ;  and  there  cannot  a  single  son  or 
a  single  daughter  be  recalled  from  sin  unto 
righteousness,  without  an  acclamation  of 
joy  among  the  hosts  of  paradise.  Aye,  and 
I  can  say  it'of  the  humblest  and  the  un- 
worthiest  of  you  all,  that  the  eye  of  angels 
is  upon  him,  and  that  his  repentance  would 
at  this  moment,  send  forth  a  wave  of  de- 
lighted sensibility  throughout  the  mighty 
throng  of  their  innumerable  legions. 

Now,  the  single  question  I  have  to  ask, 
is,  On  which  of  the  two  sides  of  this  con- 
trast do  we  see  most  of  the  impress  of  hea- 
ven ?  Which  of  the  two  would  be  most 
glorifying  to  God?  Which  of  them  car- 
ries upon  it  the  most  of  that  evidence  which 
lies  in  its  having  a  celestial  character?  For 
if  it  be  the  side  of  the  infidel,  then  must  all 
our  hopes  expire  with  the  ratifying  of  that 
fatal  sentence,  by  which  the  world  is  doom- 
ed, through  its  insignificancy,  to  perpetual 
exclusion  from  the  attentions  of  the  God- 
head. I  have  long  been  knocking  at  the 
door  of  your  understanding,  and  have  tried 
to  find  an  admittance  to  it  for  many  an  argu- 


ment. I  now  make  my  appeal  to  the  sensi- 
bilities of  your  heart ;  and  tell  me,  to  whom 
does  the  moral  feeling  within  it  yield  its 
readiest  testimony — to  the  infidel,  who 
would  make  this  world  of  ours  vanish  away 
into  abandonment — or  to  those  angels,  who 
ring  throughout  all  their  mansions  the  ho- 
sannas  of  joy,  over  every  one  individual  of 
its  repentant  population? 

And  here  I  cannot  omit  to  take  advan- 
tage of  that  opening  with  which  our  Saviour 
has  furnished  us,  by  the  parables  of  this 
chapter,  and  admits  us  into  a  familiar  view 
of  that  principle  on  which  the  inhabitants 
of  heaven  are  so  awake  to  the  deliverance 
and  the  restoration  of  our  species.  To  il- 
lustrate the  difference  in  the  reach  of  know- 
ledge and  of  affection,  between  a  man  and 
an  angel,  let  us  think  of  the  difference  of 
reach  between  one  man  and  another.  You 
may  often  witness  a  man,  who  feels  neither 
tenderness  nor  care  beyond  the  precincts 
of  his  own  family ;  but  who,  on  the  strength 
of  those  instinctive  fondnesses  which  na- 
ture has  implanted  in  his  bosom,  may  earn 
the  character  of  an  amiable  father,  or  a 
kind  husband,  or  a  bright  example  of  all 
that  is  soft  and  endearing  in  the  relations 
of  domestic  society.  Now,  conceive  him, 
in  addition  to  all  this,  to  carry  his  affections 
abroad,  without,  at  the  same  time,  any 
abatement  of  their  intensity  towards  the 
objects  which  are  at  home — that  stepping 
across  the  limits  of  the  house  he  occupies, 
he  takes  an  interest  in  the  families  which 
are  near  him — that  he  lends  his  services  to 
the  town  or  the  district  wherein  he  is  placed, 
and  gives  up  a  portion  of  his  time  to  the 
thoughtful  labours  of  a  humane  and  public- 
spirited  citizen.  By  this  enlargement  in  the 
sphere  of  his  attention  he  has  extended  his 
reach  ;  and,  provided  he  has  not  done  so  at 
the  expense  of  that  regard  which  is  due  tohis 
family — a  thing  which,  cramped  and  con- 
fined as  we  are,  we  are  very  apt,  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  our  humble  faculties,  to  do — I  put 
it  to  you,  whether,  by  extending  the  reach 
of  his  views  and  his  affections,  he  has  not 
extended  his  worth  and  his  moral  respect- 
ability along  with  it? 

But  I  can  conceive  a  still  further  enlarge- 
ment. I  can  figure  to  myself  a  man,  whose 
wakeful  sympathy  overflows  the  field  of  his 
own  immediate  neighbourhood — to  whom 
the  name  of  country  comes  with  all  the 
omnipotence  of  a  charm  upon  his  heart, 
and  with  'ill  the  urgency  of  a  most  righteous 
and  resistless  claim  upon  his  services — 
who  never  hears  the  name  of  Britain 
sounded  in  his  ears,  but  it  stirs  up  all  his 
enthusiasm  in  behalf  of  the  worth  and  the 
welfare  of  its  people — who  gives  himself 
up,  with  all  the  devotedness  of  a  passion, 
to  the  best  and  purest  objects  of  patriotism 
— and  who,  spurning  away  from  him  the 
vulgarities  of  party  ambition,  separates  his 


«3 


SYMPATHY    FELT    FOR    MAN    IN    DISTANT    PLACES    OF    CREATION. 


593 


life  and  his  labours  to  the  fine  pursuit  of 
augmenting  the  science,  or  the  virtue,  or 
the  substantial  prosperity  of  his  nation. 
Oil !  could  such  a  man  retain  all  the  ten- 
derness, and  fulfil  all  tbe  duties  which  home 
and  which  neighbourhood  require  of  him, 
and  at  the  same  time  expatiate,  in  the  might 
of  his  untired  faculties,  on  so  wide  a  field 
of  benevolent  contemplation — would  not 
this  extension  of  reach  place  him  still  high- 
er than  before,  on  the  scale  both  of  moral 
and  intellectual  gradation,  and  give  him  a 
still  brighter  and  more  enduring  name  in 
the  records  of  human  excellence  ? 

And  lastly,  I  can  conceive  a  still  loftier 
flight  of  humanity — a  man,  the  aspiring  of 
whose  heart  for  the  good  of  man,  knows 
no  limitations — whose  longings,  and  whose 
conceptions  on  this  subject,  overleap  all 
the  barriers  of  geography — who,  looking  on 
himself  as  a  brother  of  the  species,  links 
every  spare  energy  which  belongs  to  him 
with  the  cause  of  its  melioration — who  can 
embrace  within  the  grasp  of  his  ample  de- 
sires th&  whole  family  of  mankind — and 
who,  in  obedience  to  a  heaven-born  move- 
ment of  principle  within  him,  separates 
himself  to  some  big  and  busy  enterprise, 
which  is  to  tell  on  the  moral  destinies  of  the 
world.  Oh !  could  such  a  man  mix  up  the 
soften. ngs  of  private  virtue  with  the  habit 
of  so  sublime  a  comprehension — if,  amid 
those  magnificent  darings  of  thought  and  of 
performance,  the  mildness  of  his  benignant 
eye  could  still  continue  to  cheer  the  retreat 
of  his  family,  and  to  spend  the  charm  and  the 
sacredness  of  piety  among  all  its  members 
—could  he  even  mingle  himself,  in  all  the 
gentleness  of  a  soothed  and  a  smiling  heart, 
with  the  playfulness  of  his  children — and 
also  find  strength  to  shed  the  blessings  of 
his  presence  and  his  counsel  over  the  vi- 
cinity around  him; — oh!  would  not  the 
combination  of  so  much  grace  with  so  much 
loftiness,  (inly  serve  the  more  to  aggrandize 
him  ?  Would  not.  the  one  ingredient  of  a 
character  so  rare,  go  to  illustrate  and  to 
magnify  the  other?  And  would  not  you 
pronounce  him  to  be  the  fairest  specimen 
of  our  nature,  who  could  so  call  out  all  your 
tenderness,  while  lie  challenged  and  com- 
pelled all  your  veneration? 

Nor  can  I  proceed,  at  this  point  of  my 
argument,  without  adverting  to  the  way  in 
which  this  last  and  this  largest  style  of  be- 
nevolence is  exemplified  in  our  own  coun- 
try— where  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel  has 
given  to  many  of  its  enlightened  disciples 
the  impulse  of  such  a  philanthropy,  as  car- 
ries abroad  their  wishes  and  their  endea- 
vours to  the  very  outskirts  of  human  po- 
pulation— a  philanthropy,  of  .vhich,  if  you 
asked  the  extent  or  the  boundary  of  its  field, 
we  should  answer,  in  the  language  of  in- 
spiration, that  the  field  is  the  world— phi- 
lanthropy, which  overlooks  all  the  distinc- 
50 


tions  of  cast  and  of  colour,  and  spreads  its 
ample  regards  over  the  whole  brotherhood 
of  the  species — a  philanthropy,  which  at- 
taches itself  to  man  in  the  general ;  to  man 
throughout  all  his  varieties :  to  man  as  the 
partaker  of  one  common  nature,  and  who, 
in  whatever  clime  or  latitude  you  may  meet 
with  hirn,   is  found  to  breathe  the  same 
sympathies,  and  to  possess  the  same  high 
capabilities  both  of  bliss  and  improvement. 
It  is  true  that  upon  this  subject,  there  is 
often  a  loose  and  unsettled  magnificence  of 
thought,  which  is  fruitful  of  nothing  but 
empty  speculation.    But  the  men  to  whom 
I  allude  have  not  imagined  the  enterprise 
in  the  form  of  a  thing  unknown.    They 
have  given  it  a  local  habitation.    They  have 
bodied  it  forth  in  deed  and  in  accomplish- 
ment.   They  have  turned  the  dream  into  a 
reality.  In  them,  the  power  of  a  lofty  gene- 
ralization meets  with  its  happiest  attem- 
perament  in  the  principle  and  perseverance, 
and  all  the  chastening  and  subduing  virtues 
of  the  New  Testament.    And,  were  I  in 
search  of  that  fine  union  of  grace  and  of 
greatness,  which  I  have  now  been  insisting 
on,  and  in  virtue  of  which  the  enlightened 
Christian  can  at  once  find  room   in   his 
bosom  for  the  concerns  of  universal  hu- 
manity and  for  the  play  of  kindliness  to- 
wards every  individual  he  meets  with — I 
could  no  where  more  readily  expect  to  find 
it,  than  with  the  worthies  of  our  own  land — 
the  Howard  of  a  former  generation,  who 
paced  it  over  Europe  in  quest  of  the  un- 
seen wretchedness  which  abounds  in  it;  or 
in  such  men  of  our  present  generation  as 
Wilberforce,  who  lifted  his  unwearied  voice 
against  the  biggest  outrage  ever  practised 
on  our  nature,  till  he  wrought  its  extermi- 
nation; and  Clarkson,  who  plied  his  assi- 
duous task  at  rearing  the  materials  of  its 
impressive  history,  and  at  length  carried, 
for  this  righteous  cause,  the  mind  of  Parlia- 
ment; and  Carey,  from  whose  hand  the 
generations  of  the  East  are  now  receiving 
the  elements  of  their  moral  renovation,  and, 
in  fine,  those  holy  and  devoted  men,  who 
count  not  their  lives  dear  unto  them ;  but, 
going  forth  every  year  from  the  island  of 
our  habitation,  carry  the  message  of  hea- 
ven over  the  face  of  the  world  ;  and  in  the 
front  of  severest  obloquy  arc  now  labouring 
in  remotest  lands;  and  are  reclaiming  an- 
other and  another  portion  from  the  wastes 
of  dark  and  fallen  humanity;  and  are  widen- 
ing the  domains  of  gospel  light  and  gospel 
principle  among  them;  and  are  spreading  a 
moral  beauty  around  the  every  spoton  which 
they  pitch  their  lowly  tabernacle  ;  and  are  at 
length  compelling  even  the  eyeand  the  testi- 
mony of  gainsayers,  by  the  success  of  their 
noble  enterprise ;  and  are  forcing  the  ex- 
clamation of  delighted   surprise   from  the 
charmed  and  arrested  traveller,  as  he  looks 
at  the  softening  tints  which  they  are  now 


394 


SYMPATHY   FOR   MAN    IN   DISTANT    PLACES   OF   CREATION. 


[disc. 


spreading  over  the  wilderness,  and  as  he 
hears  the  sound  of  the  chapel  bell,  and  as  in 
those  haunts  where,  at  the  distance  of  half 
a  generation,  savages  would  have  scowled 
upon  his  path,  he  regales  himself  with  the 
hum  of  missionary  schools,  and  the  lovely 
spectacle  of  peaceful  and  christian  villages. 

Such,  then,  is  the  benevolence,  at  once  so 
gentle  and  so  lofty,  of  those  men,  who, 
sanctified  by  the  faith  that  is  in  Jesus,  have 
had  their  hearts  visited  from  heaven  by  a 
beam  of  warmth  and  of  sacredness. — What 
then,  I  should  like  to  know,  is  the  benevo- 
lence of  the  place  from  whence  such  an  in- 
fluence cometh  ?  How  wide  is  the  compass  of 
this  virtue  there,  and  how  exquisite  is  the  feel- 
ing of  its  tenderness,  and  how  pure  and  how 
fervent  are  its  aspirings  among  those  unfal- 
len  beings  who  have  no  darkness  and  no  en- 
cumbering weight  of  corruption  to  strive 
against  ?  Angels  have  a  mightier  reach  of 
contemplation.  Angels  can  look  upon  this 
world,  and  all  which  it  inherits,  as  the  part 
of  a  larger  family.  Angels  were  in  the  full 
exercise  of  their  powers  even  at  the  first  in- 
fancy of  our  species,  and  shared  in  the  gra- 
tulations  of  that  period,  when  at  the  birth 
of  humanity  all  intelligent  nature  felt  a 
gladdening  impulse,  and  the  morning  stars 
sang  together  for  joy.  They  loved  us  even 
with  that  love  which  a  family  on  earth  bears 
to  a  younger  sister ;  and  the  very  childhood 
of  our  tinier  faculties  did  only  serve  the 
more  to  endear  us  to  them  ;  and  though 
born  at  a  later  hour  in  the  history  of  crea- 
tion, did  they  regard  us  as  heirs  of  the  same 
destiny  with  themselves,  to  rise  along  with 
them  in  the  scale  of  moral  elevation,  to  bow 
at  the  same  footstool,  and  to  partake  in  those 
high  dispensations  of  a  parent's  kindness  and 
a  parent's  care,  which  are  ever  emanating 
from  the  throne  of  the  Eternal  on  all  the 
members  of  a  duteous  and  affectionate  fami- 
ly. Take  the  reach  of  an  angel's  mind,  but, 
at  the  same  time  take  the  seraphic  fervour  of 
an  angel's  benevolence  along  with  it ;  how 
from  the  eminence  on  which  he  stands  he 
may  have  an  eye  upon  many  worlds,  and  a 
remembrance  upon  the  origin  and  the  suc- 
cessive concerns  of  every  one  of  them  ;  how 
he  may  feel  the  full  force  of  a  most  affect- 
ing relationship  with  the  inhabitants  of 
each,  as  the  offspring  of  one  common  Fa- 
ther ;  and  though  it  be  both  the  effect  and  the 
evidence  of  our  depravity,  that  we  cannot 
sympathise  with  these  pure  and  generous 
ardours  of  a  celestial  spirit ;  how  it  may 
consist  with  the  lofty  comprehension,  and 
the  everbreathing  love  of  an  angel,  that  he 
can  both  shoot  his  benevolence  abroad  over 
a  mighty  expanse  of  planets  and  of  systems, 
and  lavish  a  flood  of  tenderness  on  each 
individual  of  their  teeming  population. 

Keep  all  this  in  view,  and  you  cannot 
fail  to  perceive  how  the  principle,  so  finely 
and  so  copiously  illustrated  in  this  chapter 


may  be  brought  to  meet  the  infidelity  we 
have  thus  long  been  employed  in  combat- 
ing. It  was  nature,  and  the  experience  of 
every  bosom  will  affirm  ii — it  was  nature 
in  the  shepherd  to  leave  the  ninety  and  nine 
of  his  flock  forgotten  and  alone  in  the  wil- 
derness, and  betaking  himself  to  the  moun- 
tains, to  give  all  his  labour  and  all  his  con- 
cern to  the  pursuit  of  one  solitary  wan- 
derer. ■  It  was  nature  ;  and  we  are  told  in 
the  passage  before  us,  that  it  is  such  a  por- 
tion of  nature  as  belongs  not  merely  to  men 
but  to  angels ;  when  the  woman,  with  her 
mind  in  a  state  of  listlessness  as  to  the  nine 
pieces  of  silver  that  were  in  secure  custody, 
turned  the  whole  force  of  her  anxiety  to  the 
one  piece  which  she  had  lost,  and  for  which 
she  hadUo  light  a  candle,  and  to  sweep  the 
house,  and  to  search  diligently  until  she 
found  it.  It  was  nature  in  her  to  rejoice 
more  over  that  piece,  than  over  all  the  rest 
of  them,  and  to  tell  it  abroad  among  friends 
and  neighbours,  that  they  might  rejoice 
along  with  her — aye,  and  sadly  effaced  as  hu- 
manity is,  in  all  her  original  lineaments,  this 
is  a  part  of  our  nature,  the  very  movements 
of  which  are  experienced  in  heaven,  "  where 
there  is  more  joy  over  one  sinner  that  re- 
penteth,  than  over  ninety  and  nine  just  per- 
sons who  need  no  repentance."  For  any 
thing  I  know,  the  very  planet  that  rolls  in 
the  immensity  around  me  may  be  a  land  of 
righteousness ;  and  be  a  member  of  the 
household  of  God  ;  and  have  her  secure 
dwelling-place  within  that  ample  limit, 
which  embraces  his  great  and  universal  fa- 
mily.. But  I  know  at  least  of  one  wanderer ; 
and  how  wofully  she  has  strayed  from 
peace  and  from  purity  ;  and  how  in  dreary 
alienation  from  him  who  made  her,  she  has 
bewildered  herself  among  those  many  de- 
vious tracts,  which  have  carried  her  afar 
from  the  path  of  immortality ;  and  how  sad- 
ly tarnished  all  those  beauties  and  felicities 
are,  which  promised,  on  that  morning  of  her 
existence  when  God  looked  oil  her,  and 
saw  that  all  was  very  good — which  pro- 
mised so  richly  to  bless  and  to  adorn  her ; 
and  how  in  the  eye  of  the  whole  unfallen 
creation,  she  has  renounced  all  this  goodli- 
ness,  and  is  fast  departing  away  from  them 
into  guilt,  and  wretchedness,  and  shame. 
Oh  !  if  there  be  any  truth  in  this  chapter, 
and  any  sweet  or  touching  nature  in  the 
principle  which  runs  throughout  all  its  pa- 
rables, let  us  cease  to  wonder,  though  they 
who  surround  the  throne  of  love  should  be 
looking  so  intently  toward  us — or  though 
in  the  way  by  which  they  have  singled  us 
out,  all  the  other  orbs  of  space  should,  for 
one  short  season,  on  the  scale  of  eternity, 
appear  to  be  forgotten — or  though  for  every 
step  of  her  recovery,  and  for  every  indi- 
vidual who  is  rendered  back  again  to  the 
fold  from  which  he  was  separated,  another 
and  another  message  of  triumph  should  bo 


v-i 


SYMPATHY    FOR    MAN    IN    DISTANT    PLACES    OF    CREATION. 


395 


made  to  circulate  among  the  hosts  of  para- 
dise— or  though  lost  as  we  are,  and  sunk  in 
depravity  as  we  are,  all  the  sympathies  of 
heaven  should  now  be  awake  on  the  en- 
terprise of  him  who  has  travailed,  in  the 
greatness  of  his  strength,  to  seek  and  to 
save  us. 

And  here  I  cannot  but  remark  how  fine  a 
harmony  there  is  between  the  law  of  sym- 
pathetic nature  in  heaven,  and  the  most 
touching  exhibitions  of  it  on  the  face  of  our 
world.  When  one  of  a  numerous  house- 
hold droops  under  the  power  of  disease,  is 
not  that  the  one  to  whom  all  the  tenderness 
is  turned,  and  who,  in  a  manner,  monopo- 
lizes the  inquiries  of  his  neighbourhood, 
and  the  care  of  his  family  ?  When  the 
sighing  of  the  midnight  storms  sends  a  dis- 
mal foreboding  into  the  mother's  heart,  to 
whom  of  all  her  offspring,  I  would  ask,  are 
her  thoughts  and  her  anxieties  then  wan- 
dering ?  Is  it  not  to  her  sailor  boy  whom  her 
fancy  has  placed  amid  the  rude  and  angry 
surges  of  the  ocean  ?  Does  not  this,  the 
hour  of  his  apprehended  danger,  concen- 
trate upon  him  the  whole  force  of  her  wake- 
ful meditations  ?  And  does  not  he  engross, 
for  a  season,  her  every  sensibility,  and  her 
every  prayer  ?  We  sometimes  hear  of  ship- 
wrecked passengers  thrown  upon  a  barba- 
rous shore  ;  and  seized  upon  by  its  prowling 
inhabitants  ;  and  hurried  away  through  the 
tracks  of  a  dreary  and  unknown  wilder- 
ness ;  and  sold  into  captivity  ;  and  loaded 
with  the  fetters  of  irrecoverable  bondage ; 
and  who,  stripped  of  every  other  liberty  but 
the  liberty  of  thought,  feel  even  this  to  be 
another  ingredient  of  wretchedness,  for 
what  can  they  think  of  but  home;  and  as  all 
its  kind  and  tender  imager}'  comes  upon 
their  remembrance,  how  can  they  think  of 
it  but  in  the  bitterness  of  despair?  Oh  tell 
me,  when  the  fame  of  all  this  disaster 
reaches  his  family,  who  is  the  member  of 
it  to  whom  is  directed  the  full  tide  of  its 
griefs  and  of  its  sympathies?  Who  is  it  that, 
for  weeks  and  for  months,  usurps  their 
every  feeling,  and  calls  out  their  largest  sa- 
crifices, and  sets  them  to  the  busiest  expe- 
dients for  getting  him  back  again?  Who  is 
it  that  makes  them  forgetful  of  themselves 
nd  of  all  around  them  ;  and  tell  me  if  you 
an  assign  a  limit  to  the  pains,  and  the  ex- 
ertions, and  the  surrenders  which  afflicted 
parents  and  weeping  sisters  would  make  to 
seek  and  to  save  him. 

Now  conceive,  as  we  are  warranted  to  do 
by  the  parables  of  this  chapter,  the  princi- 
ple of  all  these  earthly  exhibitions  to  be  in 
full  operation  around  the  throne  of  God. 
Conceive  the  universe  to  be  one  secure  and 
rejoicing  family,  and  that  this  alienated 
world  is  the  only  strayed,  or  only  captive 
member  belonging  to  it ;  and  we  shall  cease 
to  wonder,  that  from  the  first  period  of  the 
captivity  of  our  species,  down  to  the  con- 


summation of  their  history  in  time,  there 
should  be  such  a  movement  in  heaven  ;  or 
that  angels  should  so  often  have  sped  their 
commissioned  way  on  the  errand  of  our 
recovery ;  or  that  the  Son  of  God  should 
have  bowed  himself  down  to  the  burden  of 
our  mysterious  atonement ;  or  that  the 
Spirit  of  God  should  now,  by  the  busy  va- 
riety of  his  all-powerful  influences,  be  carry- 
ing forward  that  dispensation  of  grace 
which  is  to  make  us  meet  for  re-admittance 
into  the  mansions  of  the  celestial.  Only 
think  of  love  as  the  reigning  principle  there; 
of  love,  as  sending  forth  its  energies  and 
aspirations  to  the  quarter  where  its  object 
is  most  in  danger  of  being  for  ever  lost  to 
it ;  of  love,  as  called  forth  by  this  single 
circumstance  to  its  uttermost  exertion,  and 
the  most  exquisite,  feeling  of  its  tenderness  ; 
and  then  shall  we  come  to  a  distinct  and  a 
familiar  explanation  of  this  whole  mystery: 
Nor  shall  we  resist  by  our  incredulity  the 
gospel  message  any  longer,  though  it  tells 
us  that  throughout  the  whole  of  this  world's 
history,  long  in  our  eyes,  but  only  a  little 
month  in  the  high  periods  of  immortality, 
so  much  of  the  vigilance,  and  so  much  of  the 
earnestness  of  heaven,  should  have  been 
expended  on  the  recovery  of  its  guilty  po- 
pulation. 

There  is  another  touching  trait  of  nature, 
which  goes  finely  to  heighten  this  princi- 
ple, and  still  more  forcibly  to  demonstrate 
its  application  to  our  present  argument.  So 
long  as  the  dying  child  of  David  was  alive, 
he  was  kept  on  the  stretch  of  anxiety  and 
of  suffering  with  regard  to  it.  When  it  ex- 
pired, he  arose  and  comforted  himself.  This 
narrative  of  King  David  is  in  harmony  with 
all  that  we  experience  of  our  own  move- 
ments and  our  own  sensibilities.  It  is  the 
power  of  uncertainty  which  gives  them  so 
active  and  so  interesting  a  play  in  our  bo- 
soms ;  and  which  heightens  all  our  regards 
to  a  tenfold  pitch  of  feeling  and  exercise; 
and  Avhich  fixes  down  our  watchfulness 
upon  our  infant's  dying  bed  ;  and  which 
keeps  us  so  painfully  alive  to  every  turn 
and  to  every  symptom  in  the  progress  of 
its  malady;  and  which  draws  out  all  oui 
affections  for  it  to  a  degree  of  intensity  that 
is  quite  unutterable;  and  which  urges  us  on 
to  ply  our  every  effort  and,  our  every  ex- 
pedient, till  hope  withdraw  its  lingering 
beam,  or  till  death  shut  the  eyes  of  our  be- 
loved in  the  slumber  of  its  long  and  its  last 
repose. 

I  know  not  who  of  you  have  your  names 
written  in  the  book  of  life — nor  can  I  tell 
if  this  be  known  to  the  angels  which  are  in 
heaven.  While  in  the  land  of  living  men, 
you  are  under  the  power  and  application 
of^a  remedy,  which  if  taken  as  the  gospel 
prescribes,  will  renovate  the  soul,  and  al- 
together prepare  it  for  the  bloom  and  the 
vigour  of  immortality.    Wonder  not  then 


396 


CONTEST   FOR   AN   ASCENDENCY   OVER   MAN. 


[disc. 


that  with  this  principle  of  uncertainty  in 
such  full  operation,  ministers  should  feel 
for  you ;  or  angels  should  feel  for  you ;  or 
all  the  sensibilities  of  heaven  should  be 
awake  upon  the  symptoms  of  your  grace 
and  reformation ;  or  the  eyes  of  those  who 
stand  upon  the  high  eminences  of  the  celes- 
tial world,  should  be  so  earnestly  fixed  on 
the  every  footstep  and  new  evolution  of 
your  moral  history.  Such  a  consideration 
as  this  should  do  something  more  than  si- 
lence the  infidel  objection.  It  should  give 
a  practical  effect  to  the  calls  of  repentance. 


How  will  it  go  to  aggravate  the  whole  guilt 
of  our  impenitency,  should  we  stand  out 
against  the  power  and  the  tenderness  01 
these  manifold  applications — the  voice  of  a 
beseeching  God  upon  us — the  word  of  salva- 
tion at  our  very  door — the  free  offer  of 
strength  and  of  acceptance  sounded  in  our 
hearing — the  spirit  in  readiness  with  his 
agency  to  meet  our  every  desire  and  our 
every  inquiry — angels  beckoning  us  to  their 
company — and  the  very  first  movements  of 
our  awakened  conscience  drawing  upon  us 
all  their  regard,  and  all  their  earnestness ! 


DISCOURSE  VI. 


On  the  Contest  for  an  Ascendency  over  Man,  among  the  Higher  Orders  of 

Intelligence. 


"  And  having  spoiled  principalities  and  powers,  he  made  a  show  of  them  openly,  triumphing  over  them  in 

it." — Colossians  ii.  15. 


Though  these  astronomical  Discourses 
be  now  drawing  to  a  close,  it  is  not  because 
I  feel  that  much  more  might  not  be  said  on 
the  subject  of  them,  both  in  the  way  of  ar- 
gument and  of  illustration.  The  whole  of 
the  infidel  difficulty  proceeds  upon  the  as- 
sumption, that  the  exclusive  bearing  of 
Christianity  is  upon  the  people  of  our  earth ; 
that  this  solitary  planet  is  in  no  way  impli- 
cated with  the  concerns  of  a  wider  dispen- 
sation; that  the  revelation  we  have  of  the 
dealings  of  God,  in  this  district  of  his  em- 
pire, does  not  suit  and  subordinate  itself  to 
a  system  of  moral  administration,  as  ex- 
tended as  in  the  whole  of  his  monarchy. 
Or,  in  other  words,  because  infidels  have  not 
access  to  the  whole  truth,  will  they  refuse 
a  part  of  it  however  well  attested  or  well 
accredited  it  may  be ;  because  a  mantle  of 
deep  obscurity  rests  on  the  government  of 
God,  when  taken  in  all  its  eternity  and  all 
its  entireness,  will  they  shut  their  eyes 
against  that  allowance  of  light  which  has 
been  made  to  pass  downwards  upon  our 
world  from  time  to  time,  through  so  many 
partial  unfoldings;  and  till  they  are  made 
to  know  the  share  which  other  planets  have 
in  these  communications  of  mercy,  will  they 
turn  them  away  from  the  actual  message 
which  has  come  to  their  own  door,  and 
will  neither  examine  its  credentials,  nor  be 
alarmed  by  its  warnings,  nor  be  won  by  the 
tenderness  of  its  invitations. 

On  that  day  when  the  secrets  of  all  hearts 
shall  be  revealed,  there  will  be  found  such  a 
wilful  duplicity  and  darkening  of  the  mind 
in  the  whole  of  this  proceeding,  as  shall 
bring  down  upon  it  the  burden  of  a  righ- 
teous condemnation.  But,  even  now,  does 
it  lie  open  to  the  rebuke  of  philosophy, 


when  the  soundness  and  the  consistency  of 
her  principles  are  brought  faithfully  to  bear 
upon  it.  Were  the  characters  of  modern 
science  rightly  understood,  it  would  be  seen, 
that  the  very  thing  which  gave  such  strength 
and  sureness  to  all  her  conclusions,  was 
that  humility  of  spirit  which  belonged  to 
her.  She  promulgates  all  that  is  positively 
known;  but  she  maintains  the  strictest 
silence  and  modesty  about  all  that  is  un- 
known. She  thankfully  accepts  of  evidence 
wherever  it  can  be  found ;  nor  does  she 
spurn  away  from  her  the  very  humblesl 
contribution  of  such  doctrine  as  can  be  wit- 
nessed by  human  observation,  or  can  be 
attested  by  human  veracity.  But  with  all 
this  she  can  hold  out  most  sternly  against 
that  power  of  eloquence  and  fancy,  which 
often  throws  so  bewitching  a  charm  over 
the  plausibilities  of  ingenious  speculation. 
Truth  is  the  alone  idol  of  her  reverence; 
and  did  she  at  all  times  keep  by  her  at- 
tachments, nor  throw  them  away  when 
theology  submitted  to  her  cognizance  its 
demonstrations  and  its  claims,  we  should 
not  despair  of  witnessing  as  great  a  revolu- 
tion in  those  prevailing  habitudes  of  thought 
which  obtain  throughout  our  literary  esta- 
blishments, on  the  subject  of  Christianity, 
as  that  which  has  actually  taken  place  in 
the  philosophy  of  external  nature.  This  is 
the  first  field  on  which  have  been  success- 
fully practised  the  experimental  lessons  of 
Bacon ;  and  they  who  are  conversant  with 
these  matters,  know  how  great  and  how 
general  a  uniformity  of  doctrine  now  pre- 
vails in  the  sciences  of  astronomy,  and 
mechanics,  and  chemistry,  and  almost  all 
the  other  departments  in  the  history  and 
philosophy  of  matter.    But  this  uniformity 


VI.] 


CONTEST    FOR    AN    ASCENDENCY    OVER    MAN. 


397 


stands  strikingly  contrasted  with  the  diver- 
sity of  our  moral  systems,  with  the  restless 
fluctuations  both  of  language  and  of  senti- 
ment which  are  taking  place  in  the  philoso- 
phy of  mind,  with  the  palpable  fact  that 
every  new  course  of  instruction  upon  this 
subject,  has  some  new  articles,  or  some 
new  explanations  to  peculiarize  it :  and  all 
this  is  to  be  attributed,  not  to  the  progress 
of  the  science,  not  to  a  growing,  but  to  an 
alternating  movement ;  not  to  its  perpetual 
additions,  but  to  its  perpetual  vibrations. 

I  mean  not  to  assert  the  futility  of  moral 
science,  or  to  deny  her  importance,  or  to 
insist  on  the  utter  hopelessness  of  her  ad- 
vancement. The  Baconian  method  will  not 
probably  push  forward  her  discoveries  with 
such  a  rapidity,  or  to  such  an  extent,  as 
many  of  her  sanguine  disciples  have  anti- 
cipated. But  if  the  spirit  and  the  maxims 
of  this  philosophy  were  at  all  times  pro- 
ceeded upon,  it  would  certainly  check  that 
rashness  and  variety  of  excogitation,  in 
virtue  of  which  it  may  almost  be  said,  that 
every  new  course  presents  us  with  a  new 
system,  and  that  every  new  teacher  has 
some  singularity  or  other  to  characterize 
him.  She  may  be  able  to  make  out  an  exact 
transcript  of  the  phenomena  of  mind,  and 
in  so  doing,  she  yields  a  most  important 
contribution  to  the  stock  of  human  acquire- 
ments. But  when  she  attempts  to  grope 
her  darkling  way  through  the  counsels  of 
the  Deity,  and  the  futurities  of  his  admin- 
istration ;  when,  without  one  passing  ac- 
knowledgment to  the  embassy  which  pro- 
fesses to  have  come  from  Him,  or  to  the 
facts  and  to  the  testimonies  by  which  it  has 
so  illustriously  been  vindicated,  she  launches 
forth  her  own  speculations  on  the  character 
of  God,  and  the  destiny  of  man  ;  when, 
though  this  be  a  subject -on  which  neither 
the  recollections  of  history,  nor  the  ephe- 
meral experience  of  any  single  life,  can  fur- 
nish one  observation  to  enlighten  her,  she 
will  nevertheless  utter  her  own  plausibili- 
ties, not  merely  with  a  contemptuous  ne- 
glect of  the  Bible,  but  in  direct  opposition 
to  it ;  then  it  is  high  time  to  remind  her  of 
the  difference  between  the  reverie  of  him 
who  has  not  seen  God,  and  the  well-accre- 
dited declaration  of  Him  who  was  in  the 
beginning  with  God,  and  was  God;  and  to 
tell  her  that  this  so  far  from  being  the  ar- 
gument of  an  ignoble  fanaticism,  is  in  har- 
mony with  the  very  argument  upon  which 
the  science  of  experiment  has  been  reared, 
and  by  which  it  has  been  at  length  deliver- 
ed from  the  influence  of  theory,  and  purified 
of  all  its  vain  and  visionary  splendours. 

In  my  last  Discourses,  I  have  attempted 
to  collect  from. the  records  of  God's  actual 
communication  to  the  world,  such  traces 
of  relationship  between  other  orders  of  be- 
ing and  the  great  family  of  mankind,  as 
serve  to  prove  that  Christianity  is  not  so 


paltry  and  provincial  a  system  as  infidelity 
presumes  it  to  be.  And  as  I  said  before, 
I  have  not  exhausted  all  that  may  legiti- 
mately be  derived  upon  this  subject  from 
the  informations  of  Scripture.  I  have  ad- 
verted, it  is  true,  to  the  knowledge  of  our 
moral  history,  which  obtains  throughout 
other  provinces  of  the  intelligent  creation. 
I  have  asserted  the  universal  importance 
which  this  may  confer  on  the  transactions 
even  of  one  planet,  in  as  much  as  it  may 
spread  an  honourable  display  of  the  God- 
head among  all  the  mansions  of  infinity.  I 
have  attempted  to  expatiate  on  the  argu- 
ment, that  an  event  little  in  itself,  may  be 
so  pregnant  with  character,  as  to  furnish  all 
the  worshippers  of  heaven  with  a  theme 
of  praise  for  eternity.  I  have  stated  that 
nothing  is  of  magnitude  in  their  eyes,  but 
that  which  serves  to  endear  to  them  the 
Father  of  their  spirits,  or  to  shed  a  lustre 
over  the  glory  of  his  incomprehensible  at- 
tributes— and  that  thus,  from  the  redemp- 
tion even  of  our  solitary  species,  there  may 
go  forth  such  an  exhibition  of  the  Deity, 
as  shall  bear  the  triumphs  of  his  name  to 
the  very  outskirts  of  the  universe. 

I  have  further  adverted  to  another  dis- 
tinct scriptural  intimation,  that  the  state  of 
fallen  man  was  not  only  matter  of  know- 
ledge to  other  orders  of  creation,  but  was 
also  matter  of  deep  regret  and  affectionate 
sympathy ;   that,  agreeably  to   such  laws 
of  sympathy  as   are  most  familiar  even 
to  human  observation,  the  very  wretched- 
ness of  our  condition  was  fitted  to  concen- 
trate upon  us  the  feelings,  and  the  attentions, 
and  the  services,  of  the  celestial — to  single 
us  out  for  a  time  to  the  gaze  of  their  most 
earnest  and  unceasing  contemplation — to 
draw  forth  all  that  was  kind  and  all  that 
was  tender  within  them — and  just  in  pro- 
portion to  the  need  and  to  the  helplessness 
of  us  miserable  exiles  from  the  family  of 
God,  to  multiply  upon  us  the  regards,  and 
call  out  in  our  behalf  the  fond  and  eager 
exertions  of  those  who  had  never  wandered 
away  from  Him.    This  appears  from  the 
Bible  to  be  the  style  of  that  benevolence 
which  glows  and  which  circulates  around 
the  throne  of  heaven.    It  is  the  very  benevo- 
lence which  emanates  from  the  throne  itself, 
and  the  attentions  of  which  have  for  so 
many  thousand  years  signalized  the  inha- 
bitants of  our  world.    This  may  look  a  long 
period  for  so  paltry  a  world.    But  how  have 
infidels  come  to  their  conception  that  our 
world  is  so  paltry?     By  looking  abroad 
over  the  countless  systems  of  immensity 
But  why  then  have  they  missed  the  con 
ception,  that  the  time  of  those  peculiar  visi- 
tations, which  they  look  upon  as  so  dispro- 
portionate to  the  magnitude  of  this  earth, 
is  just  as  evanescent  as  the  earth  itself  is 
insignificant?   Why  look  they  not  abroad 
on  the  countless  generations  of  eternity; 


398 


CONTEST   FOR   AN   ASCENDENCY   OVER   MAN. 


[DISC 


and  thus  come  back  to  the  conclusion,  that 
after  all,  the  redemption  of  our  species  is 
but  an  ephemeral  doing  in  the  history  of 
intelligent  nature ;  that  it  leaves  the  Author 
of  it  room  for  all  the  accomplishments  of  a 
wise  and  equal  administration ;  and  not  to 
mention,  that  even  during  the  progress  of 
it,  it  withdraws  not  a  single  thought  or  a 
single  energy  of  his  from  other  fields  of 
creation ;  that  there  remains  time  enough 
to  him  for  carrying  round  the  visitations  of 
as  striking  and  as  peculiar  a  tenderness,  over 
the  whole  extent  of  his  great  and  universal 
monarchy? 

It  might  serve  still  further  to  incorporate 
the  concerns  of  our  planet  with  the  general 
history  of  moral  and  intelligent  beings,  to 
state,  not  merely  the  knowledge  which 
they  take  of  us,  and  not  merely  the  com- 
passionate anxiety  which  they  feel  for  us ; 
but  to  state  the  importance  derived  to  our 
world  from  its  being  the  actual  theatre  of  a 
keen  and  ambitious  contest  among  the  up- 
per orders  of  creation.  You  know  that 
how,  for  the  possession  of  a  very  small  and 
insulated  territory,  the  mightiest  empires 
of  the  world  would  have  put  forth  all  their 
resources ;  and  on  some  field  of  mustering 
competition  have  monarchs  met,  and  em- 
barked for  victory,  all  the  pride  of  a  coun- 
try's talent,  and  all  the  flower  and  strength 
of  a  country's  population.  The  solitary 
island,  around  which  so  many  fleets  are  ho- 
vering, and  on  the  shores  of  which  so  many 
armed  men  are  descending,  as  to  an  arena 
of  hostility,  may  well  wonder  at  its  own 
unlooked  for  estimation.  But  other  princi- 
ples are  animating  the  battle,  and  the  glory 
of  nations  is  at  stake ;  and  a  much  higher 
result  is  in  the  contemplation  of  each  party, 
than  the  gain  of  so  humble  an  acquirement 
as  the  primary  object  of  the  war ;  and  ho- 
nour, dearer  to  many  a  bosom  than  exist- 
ence, is  now  the  interest  on  which  so  much 
blood  and  so  much  treasure  is  expended ; 
and  the  stirring  spirit  of  emulation  has  now 
got  hold  of  the  combatants;  and  thus,  amid 
all  the  insignificancy,  which  attaches  to  the 
material  origin  of  the  contest,  do  both  the 
eagerness  and  the  extent  of  it,  receive  from 
the  constitution  of  our  nature,  their  most 
full  and  adequate  explanation. 

Now,  if  this  be  also  the  principle  of  high- 
er natures,  if,  on  the  one  hand  God  be  jea- 
lous of  his  honour,  and  on  the  other,  there 
be  proud  and  exalted  spirits,  who  scowl  de- 
fiance at  him  and  at  his  monarchy; — if,  on 
the  side  of  heaven,  there  be  an  angelic  host 
rallying  around  the  standard  of  loyalty, 
who  flee  with  alacrity  at  the  bidding  of  the 
Almighty,  who  are  devoted  to  his  glory, 
and  feel  a  rejoicing  interest  in  the  evolution 
of  his  counsels ;  and  if,  on  the  side  of  hell, 
there  be  a  sullen  front  of  resistance,  a  hate 
and  malice  inextinguishable,  an  unequalled 
iaring  of  revenge  to  baffle  the  wisdom  of 


the  Eternal,  and  to  arrest  the  hand,  and  to 
defeat  the  purposes  of  Omniptence ; — then 
let  the  material  prize  of  victory  be  insig- 
nificant as  it  may,  it  is  the  victory  in  itself, 
which  upholds  the  impulse  of  this  keen 
and  stimulated  rivalry.  If,  by  the  sagacity 
of  one  infernal  mind,  a  single  planet  has 
been  seduced  from  its  allegiance,  and  been 
brought  under  the  ascendency  of  him,  who 
is  called  in  Scripture,  "the  god  of  this 
world,"  and  if  the  errand  on  which  our 
Redeemer  came,  was  to  destroy  the  work? 
of  the  devil — then  let  this  planet  have  all 
the  littleness  which  astronomy  has  assigned 
to  it — call  it  what  it  is,  one  of  the  smaller 
islets  which  float  on  the  ocean  of  vacancy  ( 
it  has  become  the  theatre  of  such  a  compe- 
tition, as  may  have  all  the  desires  and  all 
the  energies  of  a  divided  universe  embarked 
upon  it.  It  involves  in  it  other  objects  than 
the  single  recovery  of  our  species.  It  decides 
higher  questions.  It  stands  linked  with  the 
supremacy  of  God,  and  will  at  length  demon- 
strate the  way  in  which  he  inflicts  chastise- 
ment and  overthrow  upon  all  his  enemies. 
I  know  not  if  our  rebellious  world  be  the 
only  strong-hold  which  Satan  is  possessed 
of,  or  if  it  be  but  the  single  post  of  an  ex- 
tended warfare,  that  is  now  going  on  be- 
tween the  powers  of  light  and  of  darkness, 
But  be  it  the  one  or  the  other,  the  parties 
are  in  array,  and  the  spirit  of  the  contest  is 
in  full  energy,  and  the  honour  of  mighty 
combatants  is  at  stake ;  and  let  us  therefore 
cease  to  wonder  that  our  humble  residence 
has  been  made  the  theatre  of  so  busy  an 
operation,  or  that  the  ambition  of  loftier  na- 
tures has  here  put  forth  all  its  desire  and 
all  its  strenuousness. 

This  unfolds  to  us  another  of  those  high 
and  extensive  bearings,  which  the  moral 
history  of  our  globe  may  have  on  the 
system  of  God's  universal  administration. 
Were  an  enemy  to  touch  the  shore  of  this 
high-minded  country,  and  to  occupy  so 
much  as  one  of  the  humblest  villages,  and 
there  to  seduce  the  natives  from  their  loy- 
alty, and  to  sit  down  along  with  them  in 
entrenched  defiance  to  all  the  threats,  and 
to  all  the  preparations  of  an  insulted  em- 
pire— oh !  how  would  the  cry  of  wounded 
pride  resound  throughout  all  the  ranks  and 
varieties  of  our  mighty  population;  and 
this  very  movement  of  indignancy  would 
reach  the  king  upon  his  throne ;  and  circu- 
late among  those  who  stood  in  all  the  gran- 
deur of  chieftainship  around  him ;  and  be 
heard  to  thrill  in  the  eloquence  of  Parlia- 
ment ;  and  spread  so  resistless  an  appeal  to 
a  nation's  honour,  or  a  nation's  patriotism, 
that  the  trumpet  of  war  would  summon  to 
its  call  all  the  spirit  and  all  the  willing  en- 
ergies of  our  kingdom  ;  and  rathej  than  sit 
down  in  patient  endurance  under  "the  burn- 
ing disgrace  of  such  a  violation,  would  the 
whole  of  its  strength  and  resources  be  em- 


vr.] 


CONTEST   FOR   AN    ASCENDENCY   OVER   MAN. 


309 


barked  upon  the  contest;  and  never,  never 
would  we  let  down  our  exertions  and  our 
sacrifices,  till  either  our  deluded  country- 
ru  n  were  reclaimed,  or  till  the  whole  of 
this  offence  were  by  one  righteous  act  of 
vengeance,  swept  away  altogether  from  the 
face  of  the  territory  it  deformed. 

Tlic  Bible  is  always  most  full  and  most 
explanatory  on  those  points  of  revelation  in 
which  men  are  personally  interested.  But 
it  does  at  times  offer  a  dim  transparency, 
through  which  may  be  caught  a  partial 
view  of  such  designs  and  of  such  enter- 
prises as  are  now  afloat  among  the  upper 
orders  of  intelligence.  It  tells  us  of  a 
mighty  struggle  that  is  now  going  on  for  a 
moral  ascendency  over  the  hearts  of  this 
world's  population.  It  tells  us  that  our 
race  were  seduced  from  their  allegiance  to 
God,  by  the  plotting  sagacity  of  one  who 
stands  pre-eminent  against  him,  among  the 
hosts  of  a  very  wide  and  extended  rebellion. 
It  tells  us  of  the  Captain  of  Salvation,  who 
undertook  to  spoil  him  of  this  triumph,  and 
throughout  the  whole  of  that  magnificent 
train  of  prophecy  which  points  to  him,  does 
it  describe  the  work  he  had  to  do  as  a  con- 
flict, in  which  strength  was  to  be  put  forth, 
and  painful  suffering  to  be  endured,  and 
fury  to  be  poured  upon  enemies,  and  prin- 
cipalities to  be  dethroned,  and  all  those 
toils,  and  dangers,  and  difficulties  to  be 
borne,  which  strewed  the  path  of  perse- 
verance that  was  to  carry  him  to  victory. 

But  it  is  a  contest  of  skill,  as  well  as  of 
strength  and  of  influence.  There  is  the 
earnest  competition  of  angelic  faculties  em- 
barked on  this  struggle  for  ascendency. 
And  while  in  the  Bible  there  is  recorded, 
(faintly  and  partially,  we  admit,)  the  deep 
and  insidious  policy  that  is  practised  on 
the  one  side;  we  are  also  told,  that  on  the 
plan  of  our  world's  restoration,  there  are 
lavished  all  the  riches  of  an  unsearchable 
wisdom  upon  the  other.  It  would  appear, 
that  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  purpose, 
the  great  enemy  of  God  and  of  man  plied 
his  every  calculation ;  and  brought  all  the 
devices  of  his  deep  and  settled  malignity  to 
bear  upon  our  species;  and  thought  that 
could  he  involve  us  in  sin,  every  attribute 
of  the  Divinity  stood  staked  to  the  banish- 
ment of  our  race  from  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  empire  of  righteousness;  and  thus  did 
he  practise  his  invasions  on  the  moral  ter- 
ritory of  the  unfallen ;  and  glorying  in  his 
success,  did  he  fancy  and  feel  that  he  had 
achieved  a  permanent  separation  between 
the  God  who  sitteth  in  heaven,  and  one  at 
least  of  the  planetary  mansions  which  he 
had  reared. 

The  errand  of  the  Saviour  was  to  restore 
this  sinful  world,  and  have  its  people  re- 
admitted within  the  circle  of  heaven's  pure 
and  righteous  family.  But  in  the  govern- 
ment of  heaven,  as  well  as  in  the  govern- 


ment of  earth,  there  are  certain  principles 
which  cannot  be  compromised;  and  certain 
maxims  of  administration  which  must 
never  be  departed  from;  and  a  certain  cha- 
racter of  majesty  and  of  truth,  on  which 
the  taint  even  of  the  slightesl  violation  can 
never  be  permitted  ;  and  a  certain  authority 
which  must  be  upheld  by  the  immutability 
of  all  its  sanctions,  and  the  unerring  fulfil- 
ment of  all  its  wise  and  righteous  procla- 
mations. All  this  was  in  the  mind  of  the 
archangel,  and  a  gleam  of  malignant  joy 
shot  athwart  him  as  he  conceived  his  pro- 
ject for  hemming  our  unfortunate  species 
within  the  hound  of  an  irrecoverable  di- 
lemma; and  as  surely  as  sin  and  holiness 
could  not.  enter  into  fellowship,  so  surely 
did  he  think,  that  if  man  were  seduced  to 
disobedience,  would  the  truth,  and  the  jus- 
tice, and  the  immutability  of  God,  lay  their 
insurmountable  barriers  on  the  path  of  his 
future  acceptance. 

It  was  only  in  that  plan  of  recovery  of 
which  Jesus  Christ  was  the  author  and  the 
finisher,  that  the  great  adversary  of  our 
species  met  with  a  wisdom  which  over- 
matched him.  It  is  true,  that  he  reared,  in 
the  guilt  to  which  he  seduced  us,  a  mighty 
obstacle  in  the  way  of  this  lofty  undertaking. 
But  when  the  grand  expedient  was  an- 
nounced, and  the  blood  of  that  atonement, 
by  which  sinners  are  brought  nigh,  was 
willingly  offered  to  be  shed  for  us,  and  the 
eternal  Son,  to  carry  this  mystery  into  ac- 
complishment, assumed  our  nature — then 
was  the  prince  of  that  mighty  rebellion,  in 
which  the  fate  and  the  history  of  our  world 
are  so  deeply  implicated,  in  visible  alarm 
for  the  safety  of  all  his  acquisitions : — nor 
can  the  record  of  this  wondrous  history 
carry  forward  its  narrative,  without  fur- 
nishing some  transient  glimpses  of  a  sub- 
lime and  a  superior  warfare,  in  which,  for 
the  prize  of  a  spiritual  dominion  over  our 
species,  we  may  dimly  perceive  the  con- 
test of  loftiest  talent,  and  all  the  designs 
of  heaven  in  behalf  of  man,  met  at  every 
point  of  their  evolution,  by  the  counter- 
workings  of  a  rival  strength  and  a  rival  sa- 
gacity. 

We  there  read  of  a  struggle  which  the 
Captain  of  our  salvation  had  to  sustain, 
when  the  lustre  of  the  Godhead  lay  obseu- 
red,  and  the  strength  of  its  omnipotence 
was  mysteriously  weighed  down  under  the 
infirmities  of  our  nature — how  Satan  singled 
him  out,  and  dared  him  to  the  combat  of 
the  wilderness — how  all  his  wiles  and  all 
his  influences  Avere  resisted — how  he  left 
our  Saviour  in  all  the  triumphs  of  unsub- 
dued loyalty — how  the  progress  of  this 
mighty  achievement  is  marked  by  the  every 
character  of  a  conflict — how  many  of  the 
Gospel  miracles  were  so  many  direct  in- 
fringements on  the  power  and  empire  of 
a   great   spiritual    rebellion — how   in  one 


400 


CONTEST    FOR    AN    ASCENDENCY    OVER    MAN. 


[disc. 


precious  season  of  gladness  among  the  few 
which  brightened  the  dark  career  of  our 
Saviour's  humiliation,  he  rejoiced  in  spirit, 
and  gave  as  the  cause  of  it  to  his  disciples, 
that  "  he  saw  Satan  fall  like  lightning  from 
heaven" — how  the  momentary  advantages 
that  were  gotten  over  him,  are  ascribed 
to  the  agency  of  this  infernal  being,  who 
entered  the  heart  of  Judas,  and  tempted  the 
disciple  to  betray  his  Master  and  his  Friend. 
I  know  that  I  am  treading  on  the  confines 
of  mystery.  I  cannot  tell  what  the  battle 
that  he  fought.  I  cannot  compute  the  ter- 
ror or  the  strength  of  his  enemies.  I  can- 
not say,  for  I  have  not  been  told,  how  it 
was  that  they  stood  in  marshalled  and 
hideous  array  against  him: — nor  can  I 
measure  how  great  the  firm  daring  of  his 
soul,  when  he  tasted  that  cup  in  all  its  bit- 
terness, which  he  prayed  might  pass  away 
from  him ;  when  with  the  feeling  that  he 
was  forsaken  by  his  God,  he  trod  the  wine- 
press alone ;  when  he  entered  single-handed 
upon  that  dreary  period  of  agony,  and  in- 
sult, and  death,  in  which  from  the  garden 
to  the  cross,  he  had  to  bear  the  burden  of 
a  world's  atonement.  I  cannot  speak  in 
my  own  language,  but  I  can  say  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Bible,  of  the  days  and  the  nights 
of  this  great  enterprise,  that  it  was  the  sea- 
son of  the  travad  of  his  soul ;  that  it  was 
the  hour  and  the  power  of  darkness ;  that 
the  work  of  redemption  was  a  work  accom- 
panied by  the  effort,  and  the  violence,  and 
the  fury  of  a  combat ;  by  all  the  arduous- 
ness  of  a  battle  in  its  progress,  and  all  the 
glories  of  a  victory  in  its  termination ;  and 
after  he  called  out  that  it  was  finished,  after 
he  was  loosed  from  the  prison-house  of  the 
grave,  after  he  had  ascended  up  on  high, 
he  is  said  to  have  made  captivity  captive  : 
and  to  have  spoiled  principalities  and  pow- 
ers; and  to  have  seen  his  pleasure  upon 
his  enemies  ;  and  to  have  made  a  show  of 
them  openly. 

I  will  not  affect  a  wisdom  above  that 
which  is  written,  by  fancying  such  details 
of  this  warfare  as  the  Bible  has  not  laid  be- 
fore me.  But  surely  it  is  no  more  than 
being  wise  up  to  that  which  is  written,  to 
assert,  that  in  achieving  the  redemption  of 
our  world,  a  warfare  had  to.be  accomplish- 
ed ;  that  upon  this  subject  there  was  among 
the  higher  provinces  of  creation,  the  keen 
and  the  animated  conflict  of  opposing  in- 
terests ;  that  the  result  of  it  involved  some- 
thing grander  and  more  affecting,  than  even 
the  fate  of  this  world's  population  ;  that  it 
decided  a  question  of  rivalship  between  the 
righteous  and  everlasting  Monarch  of  uni- 
versal being,  and  the  prince  of  a  great  and 
widely  extended  rebellion,  of  which  I  nei- 
ther know  how  vast  is  the  magnitude,  nor 
how  important  and  diversified  are  the  bear- 
ings ;  and  thus  do  we  gather  from  this  con- 
sidei  ation,  another  distinct  argument,  help- 


ing us  to  explain,  why  on  the  salvation  of 
our  solitary  species  so  much  attention  ap- 
pears to  have  been  concentred,  and  so  much 
energy  appears  to  have  been  expended. 

But  it  would  appear  from  the  records  of 
inspiration,  that  the  contest  is  not  yet  ended ; 
that  on  the  one  hand  the  Spirit  of  God  is 
employed  in  making  for  the  truths  of 
Christianity,  a  way  into  the  human  heart, 
with  all  the  power  of  an  effectual  demon- 
stration ;  that  on  the  other  there  is  a  spirit 
now  abroad,  which  worketh  in  the  children 
of  disobedience ;  that  on  the  one  hand,  the 
Holy  Ghost  is  calling  men  out  of  darkness 
into  the  marvellous  light  of  the  Gospel ; 
and  that  on  the  other  hand,  he  who  is  styled 
the  god  of  this  world,  is  blinding  their 
hearts,  lest  the  light  of  the  glorious  gospel 
of  Christ  should  enter  into  them  ;  that  they 
who  are  under  the  dominion  of  the  one, 
are  said  to  have  overcome,  because  greater 
is  he  that' is  in  them  than  he  that  is  in  the 
world ;  and  that  they  who  are  under  the 
dominion  of  the  other,  are  said  to  be  the 
children  of  the  devil,  and  to  be  under  his 
snare,  and  to  be  taken  captive  by  him  at 
his  will.  How  these  respective  powers  do 
operate,  is  one  question.  The  fact  of  their 
operation,  is  another.  We  abstain  from  the 
former.  We  attach  ourselves,  to  the  latter, 
and  gather  from  it,  that  the  prince  of  dark- 
ness still  walketh  abroad  among  us ;  that 
he  is  still  working  his  insidious  policy,  if 
not  with  the  vigorous  inspiration  of  hope, 
at  least  with  the  frantic  energies  of  despair  ; 
that  while  the  overtures  of  reconciliation 
are  made  to  circulate  through  the  world, 
he  is  plying  all  his  devices  to  deafen  and 
to  extinguish  the  impression  of  them;  or, 
in  other  words,  while  a  process  of  invitation 
and  of  argument  has  emanated  from  hea- 
ven, for  reclaiming  men  to  their  loyalty — 
the  process  is  resisted  at  all  its  points,  by 
one  who  is  putting  forth  his  every  expe- 
dient, and  wielding  a  mysterious  ascend- 
ency, to  seduce  and  to  enthral  them. 

To  an  infidel  ear,  all  this  carries  the 
sound  of  something  wild  and  visionary 
along  with  it;  but  though  only  known 
through  the  medium  of  revelation,  after  it 
is  known,  who  can  fail  to  recognize  its  har- 
mony with  the  great  lineaments  of  human 
experience  ?  Who  has  not  felt  the  work- 
ings of  a  rivalry  within  him,  between  the 
power  of  conscience  and  the  power  of 
temptation?  Who  does  not  remembei 
those  seasons  of  retirement,  when  the  cal- 
culations of  eternity  had  gotten  a  moment- 
ary command  over  the  heart ;  and  time, 
with  all  its  interests  and  all  its  vexations, 
had  dwindled  into  insignificancy  before 
them  ?  And  who  does  not  remember,  how 
upon  his  actual  engagement  with  the  ob- 
jects of  time,  they  resumed  a  control,  as 
great  and  as  omnipotent,  as  if  all  the  im- 
portance of  eternity  adhered  to  them — how 


VII.) 


INFLUENCE   OF   TASTE   AND    SENSIBILITY    IN    RELIGION. 


401 


they  emitted  from  them  such  an  impression 
upon  his  feelings,  as  to  fix  and  to  fascinate 
the  whole  man  into  a  subserviency  to  their 
influence — how  in  spite  of  every  lesson  of 
their  worthlessness,  brought  home  to  him  at 
every  turn  by  the  rapidity  of  the  seasons,  and 
the  vicissitudes  of  life,  and  the  ever-moving 
progress  of  his  own  earthly  career,  and  the 
visible  ravages  of  death  among  his  acquaint- 
ances around  him,  and  the  desolations  of 
his  family,  and  the  constant  breaking  up 
of  his  system  of  friendships,  and  the  affect- 
ing speetacle  of  all  that  lives  and  is  in  mo- 
tion, withering  and  hastening  to  the  grave ; 
— oh  !  how  comes  it  that  in  the  face  of  all 
this  experience,  the  whole  elevation  of  pur- 
pose, conceived  in  the  hour  of  his  better 
understanding,  should  be  dissipated  and 
forgotten  ?  Whence  the  might,  and  whence 
the  mystery  of  that  spell,  which  so  binds 
and  so  infatuates  us  to  the  world?  What 
prompts  us  so  to  embark  the  whole  strength 
of  our  eagerness  and  of  our  desires  in  pursuit 
of  interests  which  we  know  a  few  little 
years  will  bring  to  utter  annihilation  ?  Who 
is  it  that  imparts  to  them  all  the  charm  and 
all  the  colour  of  an  unfailing  durability  ? 
Who  is  it  that  throws  such  an  air  of  stability 
over  these  earthly  tabernacles,  as  makes 
them  look  to  the  fascinated  eye  of  man  like 
resting  places  for  eternity?  Who  is  it  that 
so  pictures  out  the  objects  of  sense,  and  so 
magnifies  the  range  of  their  future  enjoy- 
ment, and  so  dazzles  the  fond  and  deceived 
imagination,  that  in  looking  onward  through 
our  earthly  career,  it  appears  like  the  vista, 
or  the  perspective  of  innumerable  ages? 
He  who  is  called  the  god  of  this  world.  He 
who  can  dress  the  idleness  of  its  waking 
dreams  in  the  garb  of  reality.  He  who  can 
pour  a  seducing  brilliancy  over  the  pano- 
rama of  its  fleeting  pleasures  and  its  vain 
anticipations.  He  who  can  turn  it  into  an 
instrument  of  deceitfulness ;  and  make  it 
wield  such  an  absolute  ascendency  over  all 


the  affections,  that  man,  become  the  poor 
slave  of  its  idolatries,  and  ils  charms,  puts  the 
authority  of  conscience,  and  the  warnings  of 
the  Word  of  God,  and  the  offered  instigations 
of  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  all  the  lessons  of 
calculation,  and  the  wisdom  even  of  bisowi 
sound  and  sober  experience,  away  from  him. 
But  this  wondrous  contest  will  come  to  a 
close.  Some  will  return  to  their  loyalty, 
and  others  will  keep  by  their  rebellion  ;  and! 
in  the  day  of  the  winding  up  of  the  drama 
of  this  world's  history,  there  will  be  made 
manifest  to  the  myriads  of  the  various  or- 
ders of  creation,  both  the  mercy  and  vindi- 
cated majesty  of  the  Eternal.  Oh  !  on  that 
day  how  vain  will  this  presumption  of  the 
Infidel  astronomer  appear,  when  the  affairs 
of  men  come  to  be  examined  in  the  pre- 
sence of  an  innumerable  company;  and 
beings  of  loftiest  nature  are  seen  to  crowd 
around  the  judgment-seat ;  and  the  Saviour 
shall  appear  in  our  sky,  with  a  celestial 
retinue,  who  have  come  with  him  from  afar 
to  witness  all  his  doings,  and  to  take  a  deep 
and  solemn  interest  in  all  his  dispensations  : 
and  the  destiny  of  our  species,  whom  the 
Infidel  would  thus  detach,  in  solitary  in- 
significance, from  the  universe  altogether, 
shall  be  found  to  merge  and  to  mingle  with 
higher  destinies — the  good  to  spend  their 
eternity  with  angels— the  bad  to  spend  their 
eternity  with  angels— the  former  to  be  re- 
admitted into  the  universal  family  of  God's 
obedient  worshippers — the  latter  to  share 
in  the  everlasting  pain  and  ignominy  of  the 
defeated  hosts  of  the  rebellious— the  people 
of  this  planet  to  be  implicated,  throughout 
the  whole  train  of  their  never-ending  his- 
tory, with  the  higher  ranks,  and  the  more 
extended  tribes  of  intelligence;  and  thus  it 
is  that  the  special  administration  we  now 
live  under,  shall  be  seen  to  harmonize  in  its 
bearings,  and  to  accord  in  its  magnificence, 
with  all  that  extent  of  nature  and  of  her  ter 
ritories,  which  modern  science  has  unfolded. 


DISCOURSE  VII. 

On  the  slender  Influence  of  mere  Taste  and  Sensibility  in  Matters  of  Religion. 

"  And  lo,  thou  art  unto  them  as  a  very  lovely  song  of  one  who  hath  a  pleasant  voice,  and  can  play  well 
on  an  instrument;  for  they  hear  thy  words,  but  they  do  them  not."— Ezehiel  xxxiii.  32. 


You  easily  understand  how  a  taste  for 
music  is  one  thing,  and  a  real  submission  to 
the  influence  of  religion  is  another  ; — how 
the  ear  may  be  regaled  by  the  melody  of 
sound,  and  the  heart  may  utterly  refuse  the 
proper  impression  of  the  sense  that  is  con- 
veyed by  it;  how  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  the  world  may,  with  their  every  affection 
devoted  to  its  perishable  vanities,  inhale  all 
51 


the  delights  of  enthusiasm,  as  they  sit  in 
crowded  assemblage  around  the  deep  and 
solemn  oratorio ; — aye,  and  whether  it  be 
the  humility  of  penitential  feeling,  or  the 
rapture  of  grateful  acknowledgment,  or  the 
suhlime  of  a  contemplative  piety,  or  the  as- 
piration of  pure  and  of  holy  purposes,  which 
breathes  throughout  the  words  of  the  per- 
formance, and  gives  to  it  all  the  spirit  and 


402 


INFLUENCE   OF   TASTE   AND   SENSIBILITY   IN    RELICION. 


[DISC. 


all  the  expression  by  which  it  is  pervaded  ; 
it  is  a  very  possible  thing,  that  the  moral, 
and  the  rational,  and  the  active  man,  may 
have  given  no  entrance  into  his  bosom  for 
any  of  these  sentiments;  and  yet  so  over- 
powered may  he  be  by  the  charm  of  the 
vocal  conveyance  through  which  they  are 
addressed  to  him,  that  he  may  be  made  to 
feel  with  such  an  emotion,  and  to  weep 
with  such  a  tenderness,  and  to  kindle  with 
such  a  transport,  and  to  glow  with  such  an 
elevation,  as  may  one  and  all  carry  upon 
them  the  semblance  of  sacredness. 

But  might  not  this  semblance  deceive 
him?  Have  you  never  heard  any  tell,  and 
with  complacency  too,  how  powerfully  his 
devotion  was  awakened  by  an  act  of  at- 
tendance on  the  oratorio — how  his  heart, 
melted  and  subdued  by  the  influence  of 
harmony,  did  homage  to  all  the  religion  of 
which  it  was  the  vehicle — how  he  was  so 
moved  and  overborne,  that  he  had  to  shed 
the  tears  of  contrition,  and  to  be  agitated  by 
the  terrors  of  judgment,  and  to  receive  an 
awe  upon  his  spirit  of  the  greatness  and  the 
majesty  of  God — and  that  wrought  up  to 
the  lofty  pitch  of  eternity,  he  could  look 
down  upon  the  world,  and  by  the  glance 
of  one  commanding  survey,  pronounce 
upon  the  littleness  and  the  vanity  of  all  its 
concerns  ?  Oh  !  it  is  very,  very  possible  that 
all  this  might  thrill  upon  the  ears  of  the 
man,  and  circulate  a  succession  of  solemn 
and  affecting  images  around  his  fancy — and 
yet  that  essential  principle  of  his  nature, 
upon  which  the  practical  influence  of  Chris- 
tianity turns,  might  have  met  with  no  reach- 
ing and  no  subduing  efficacy  whatever  to 
arouse  it.  He  leaves  the  exhibition,  as  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins  as  he  came  to  it. 
Conscience  has  not  awakened  upon  him. 
Repentance  has  not  turned  him.  Faith  has 
not  made  any  positive  lodgement  within 
him  of  her  great  and  her  constraining  reali- 
ties. He  speeds  him  back  to  his  business 
and  to  his  family,  and  there  he  plays  off 
the  old  man  in  all  the  entireness  of  his 
uncrucified  temper,  and  of  his  obstinate 
worldliness,  and  of  all  those  earthly  and 
unsanctified  affections,  which  are  found  to 
cleave  to  him  with  as  great  tenacity  as  ever. 
He  is  really  and  experimentally  the  very 
same  man  as  before — and  all  those  sensi- 
bilities which  seemed  to  bear  upon  them 
so  much  of  the  air  and  unction  of  heaven, 
are  found  to  go  into  dissipation,  and  be  for- 
gotten with  the  loveliness  of  the  song. 

Amid  all  that  illusion  which  such  mo- 
mentary visitations  of  seriousness  and  of 
sentiment  throw  around  the  character  of 
man,  let  us  never  lose  sight  of  the  test,  that 
"by  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them."  It  is 
not  coming  up  to  this  test,  that  you  hear 
and  are  delighted.  It  is  that  you  hear  and 
do.  This  is  the  ground  upon  which  the 
reality  of  your  religion  is  discriminated 


now ;  and  on  the  day  of  reckoning,  this  is 
the  ground  upon  which  your  religion  will 
be  judged  then ;  and  that  award  is  to  be 
passed  upon  you,  which  will  fix  and  per- 
petuate your  destiny  for  ever.  You  have  a 
taste  for  music.  This  no  more  implies  the 
hold  and  the  ascendency  of  religion  over 
you,  than  that  you  have  a  taste  for  beautiful 
scenery,  or  a  taste  for  painting,  or  even  a 
taste  for  the  sensualities  of  epicurism.  But 
music  may  be  made  to  express  the  glow 
and  the  movement  of  devotional  feeling; 
and  it  is  saying  nothing  to  say  that  the 
heart  of  him  who  listens  with  a  raptured 
ear,  is  through  the  whole  time  of  the  per- 
formance, in  harmony  with  such  a  move- 
ment? Why,  it  is  saying  nothing  to  the 
purpose.  Music  may  lift  the  inspiring 
note  of  patriotism;  and  the  inspiration  may 
be  felt ;  and  it  may  thrill  over  the  recesses 
of  the  soul,  to  the  mustering  up  of  all  its 
energies ;  and  it  may  sustain  to  the  last  ca- 
dence of  the  song,  the  firm  nerve  and  pur- 
pose of  intrepidity;  and  all  this  may  be 
realized  upon  him,  who  in  the  day  of  battle, 
and  upon  actual  collision  with  the  dangers 
of  it,  turns  out  to  be  a  coward.  And  music 
may  lull  the  feelings  into  unison  with  piety; 
and  stir  up  the  inner  man  to  lofty  determi- 
nations; and  so  engage  for  a  time  his  affec- 
tions, that,  as  if  weaned  from  the  dust,  they 
promise  an  immediate  entrance  on  some 
great  and  elevated  career,  which  may  carry 
him  through  his  pilgrimage  superior  to  all 
the  sordid  and  grovelling  enticements  that 
abound  in  it.  But  he  turns  him  to  the  world, 
and  all  this  glow  abandons  him  ;  and  the 
words  which  he  hath  heard,  he  doeth  them 
not;  and  in  the  hour  of  temptation  he  turns 
out  to  be  a  deserter  from  the  law  of  alle- 
giance ;  and  the  test  I  have  now  specified 
looks  hard  upon  him,  and  discriminates 
him  amid  all  the  parading  insignificance  of 
his  fine  but  fugitive  emotions,  to  be  the 
subject  both  of  present  guilt  and  of  future 
vengeance. 

The  faithful  application  of  this  test  would 
put  to  flight  a  host  of  other  delusions.  It 
may  be  carried  round  among  all  those  phe- 
nomena of  human  character,  where  there  is 
the  exhibition  of  something  associated  with 
religion,  but  which  is  not  religion  itself. 
An  exquisite  relish  for  music  is  no  test  of 
the  influence  of  Christianity.  Neither  are 
many  other  of  the  exquisite  sensibilities  of 
our  nature.  When  a  kind  mother  closes 
the  eyes  of  her  expiring  babe,  she  is  thrown 
into  a  flood  of  sensibility,  and  soothing  to 
her  heart  are  the  sympathy  and  the  prayers 
of  an  attending  minister.  When  a  gathering 
neighbourhood  assemble  to  the  funeral  of 
an  acquaintance,  one  pervading  sense  of 
regret  and  tenderness  sits  on  the  face  of  the 
company;  and  the  deep  silence,  broken  only 
by  the  solemn  utterance  of  the  man  of 
God,  carries  a  kind  of  pleasing  religiousness 


VII.] 


INFLUENCE   OF   TASTE   AND   SENSIBILITY   IN    RELIGION. 


403 


along  with  it.  The  sacredness  of  the  hal- 
lowed day,  and  the  decencies  of  its  obser- 
vation, may  engage  the  affections  of  him 
who  loves  to  walk  in  the  footsteps  of  his 
father;  and  every  recurring  Sabbath  may 
bring  to  his  bosom,  the  charm  of  its  regu- 
larity and  its  quietness.  Religion  has  its 
accomplishments ;  and  in  these,  there  may 
be  something  to  soothe,  and  to  fascinate, 
even  in  the  absence  of  the  appropriate  in- 
fluences of  religion.  The  deep  and  tender 
impression  of  a  family  bereavement,  is  not 
religion.  The  love  of  established  decencies, 
is  not  religion.  The  charm  of  all  that  sen- 
timcntalism  which  is  associated  with  many 
of  its  solemn  and  affecting  services,  is  not 
religion.  They  form  the  distinct  folds  of 
its  accustomed  drapery ;  but  they  do  not, 
any  or  all  of  them  put  together,  make  up 
the  substance  of  the  thing  itself.  A  mother's 
tenderness  may  flow  most  gracefully  over 
the  tomb  of  her  departed  little  one ;  and  she 
may  talk  the  while  of  that  heaven  whither 
its  spirit  has  ascended.  The  man  whom 
death  had  widowed  of  his  friend,  may 
abandon  himself  to  the  movements  of  that 
grief,  which  for  a  time  will  claim  an  ascen- 
dency over  him ;  and,  among  the  multitude 
of  his  other  reveries,  may  love  to  hear  of 
the  eternity,  where  sorrow  and  separation 
are  alike  unknown.  He  who  has  been 
trained,  from  his  infant  days,  to  remember 
the  Sabbath,  may  love  the  holiness  of  its 
aspect;  and  associate  himself  with  all  its 
observances;  and  take  a  delighted  share  in 
the  mechanism  of  its  forms.  But,  let  not 
these  think,  because  the  tastes  and  the  sen- 
sibilities which  engross  them,  may  be  blend- 
ed with  religion,  that  they  indicate  either 
its  strength  or  its  existence  within  them.  I 
recur  to  the  test.  I  press  its  imperious 
exactions  upon  yor..  I  call  for  fruit,  and  de- 
mand the  permanency  of  a  religious  influ- 
ence on  the  habits  and  the  history.  Oh  ! 
how  many  who  take  a  flattering  unction  to 
their  souls,  when  they  think  of  their  amiable 
feelings,  and  their  becoming  observations, 
with  whom  this  severe  touch-stone  would, 
like  the  head  of  Medusa,  put  to  flight  all 
their  complacency.  The  afflictive  dispen- 
sation is  forgotten — and  he  on  whom  it  was 
laid,  is  practically  as  indifferent  to  God  and 
to  eternity  as  before.  The  Sabbath  services 
come  to  a  close ;  and  they  are  followed  by 
the  same  routine  of  week-day  worldliness 
as  before.  In  neither  the  one  case  nor  the 
other,  do  we  see  more  of  the  radical  influ- 
ence of  Christianity  than  in  the  sublime 
and  melting  influence  of  sacred  music  upon 
the  soul;  and  all  this  tide  of  emotion  is 
found  to  die  away  from  the  bosom,  like  the 
pathos  or  like  the  loveliness  of  a  song. 

The  instances  may  be  multiplied  without 
number.  A  man  may  have  a  taste  for  elo- 
quence, and  eloquence  the  most  touching 
or  sublime  may  lift  her  pleading  voice  on 


the  side  of  religion.  A  man  may  love  to 
have  his  understanding  stimulated  by  the 
ingenuities,  or  the  resistless  urgencies  of  an 
argument;  and  argument  the  most  pro- 
found and  the  most  overbearing,  may  put 
forth  all  the  might  of  a  constraining  vehe- 
mence in  behalf  of  religion.  A  man  may 
feel  the  rejoicings  of  a  conscious  elevation, 
when  some  ideal  scene  of  magnificence  is 
laid  before  him ;  and  where  are  these  scenes 
so  readily  to  be  met  with,  as  when  led  to 
expatiate  in  thought  over  the  track  of  eter- 
nity, or  to  survey  the  wonders  of  creation, 
or  to  look  to  the  magnitude  of  these  great 
and  universal  interests  which  lie  within  the 
compass  of  religion?  A  man  may  have  his 
attention  riveted  and  regaled  by  that  power 
of  imitative  description,  which  brings  all 
the  recollections  of  his  own  experience  be- 
fore him ;  which  presents  him  with  a  faithful 
analysis  of  his  own  heart ;  which  embodies 
in  language  such  intimacies  of  observation 
and  of  feeling,  as  have  often  passed  before 
his  eyes,  or  played  within  his  bosom,  but 
had  never  been  so  truly  or  so  ably  pictured 
to  the  view  of  his  remembrance.  Now,  all 
this  may  be  done  in  the  work  of  pressing 
the  duties  of  religion ;  in  the  work  of  in- 
stancing the  application  of  religion ;  in  the 
work  of  pointing  those  allusions  to  life  and 
to  manners,  which  manifest  the  truth  to  the 
conscience,  and  plant  such  a  conviction  of 
sin,  as  forms  the  very  basis  of  a  sinner's 
religion.  Now,  in  all  these  cases,  I  see 
other  principles  brought  into  action,  and 
which  may  be  in  a  state  of  most  lively  and 
vigorous  movement,  and  be  yet  in  a  state 
of  entire  separation  from  the  principle  of 
religion.  I  will  make  bold  to  say,  on  the 
strength  of  these  illustrations,  that  as  much 
delight  may  emanate  from  the  pulpit,  on  an 
arrested  audience  beneath  it,  as  ever  ema- 
nated from  the  boards  of  a  theatre — aye, 
and  with  as  total  a  disjunction  of  mind  too, 
in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  from  the  es- 
sence or  the  habit  of  religion.  I  recur  to 
the  test.  I  make  my  appeal  to  experience; 
and  I  put  it  to  you  all,  whether  your  finding 
upon  the  subject  do  not  agree  with  my 
saying  about  it,  that  a  man  may  weep,  and 
admire,  and  have  many  of  his  faculties  put 
upon  the  stretch  of  their  most  intense  grati- 
fication— his  judgment  established,  and  his 
fancy  enlivened,  and  his  feelings  overpow- 
ered, and  his  hearing  charmed,  as  by  the 
accents  of  heavenly  persuasion,  and  all 
within  him  feasted  by  the  rich  and  varied 
luxuries  of  an  intellectual  banquet! — Oh!  it 
is  cruel  to  frown  unmannerly  in  the  midst 
of  so  much  satisfaction.  But  I  must  not 
forget  that  truth  has  her  authority,  as  well 
as  her  sternness;  and  she  forces  me  to 
affirm,  that  after  all  this  has  been  felt  and 
gone  through,  there  might  not  be  one  prin- 
ciple which  lies  at  the  turning  point  of 
conversion,  that  has  experienced  a  single 


404 


INFLUENCE    OF  TASTE    AND   SENSIBILITY    IN   RELIGION. 


[DISC. 


movement — not  one  of  its  purposes  be  con- 
ceived— not  one  of  its  doings  be  accom- 
plished— not  one  step  of  that  repentance, 
which,  if  we  have  not,  we  perish,  so  much 
as  entered  upon — not  one  announcement  of 
that  faith,  by  which  we  are  saved,  admitted 
into  a  real  and  actual  possession  by  the 
inner  man.  He  has  had  his  hour's  enter- 
tainment, and  willingly  does  he  award  this 
homage  to  the  performer,  that  he  hath  a  plea- 
sant voice,  and  can  play  well  on  an  instru- 
ment— but,  in  another  hour,  it  fleets  away 
from  his  remembrance,  and  goes  all  to  no- 
thing, like  the  loveliness  of  a  song. 

Now,  in  bringing  these  Astronomical  Dis- 
courses to  a  close,  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  ad- 
vert to  this  exhibition  of  character  in  man. 
The  sublime  and  interesting  topic  which 
has  engaged  us,  however  feebly  it  may 
have  been  handled ;  however  inadequately 
it  may  have  been  put  in  all  its  worth,  and 
in  all  its  magnitude  before  you;  however 
short  the  representation  of  the  speaker  or 
the  conception  of  the  hearers  may  have  been 
of  that  richness,  and  that  greatness,  and 
that  loftiness,  which  belong  to  it;  possesses 
in  itself  a  charm  to  fix  the  attention,  to  re- 
gale the  imagination,  and  to  subdue  the 
whole  man  into  a  delighted  reverence;  and, 
in  a  word,  to  beget  such  a  solemnity  of 
thought,  and  of  emotion,  as  may  occupy 
and  enlarge  the  soul  for  hours  together,  as 
may  waft  it  away  from  the  grossness  of  or- 
dinary life,  and  raise  it  to  a  kind  of  elevated 
calm  above  all  its  vulgarities  and  all  its 
vexations. 

Now,  tell  me  whether  the  whole  of  this 
effect  upon  the  feelings,  may  not  be  formed 
without  the  presence  of  religion.  Tell  me 
whether  there  might  not  be  such  a  consti- 
tution of  mind,  that  it  may  both  want  alto- 
gether that  principle  in  virtue  of  which  the 
doctrines  of  Christianity  are  admitted  into 
the  belief,  and  the  duties  of  Christianity 
are  admitted  into  a  government  over  the 
practice — and  yet,  at  the  very  same  time, 
it  may  have  the  faculty  of  looking  abroad 
over  some  scene  of  magnificence,  and  of 
being  wrought  up  to  ecstacy  with  the  sense 
of  all  those  glories  among  which  it  is  expa- 
tiating. I  want  you  to  see  clearly  the  dis- 
tinction between  these  two  attributes  of  the 
human  character.  They  are,  in  truth,  as 
different  the  one  from  the  other,  as  a  taste 
for  the  grand  and  the  graceful  of  scenery 
differs  from  the  appetite  of  hunger  ;  and  the 
one  may  both  exist  and  have  a  most  intense 
operation  within  the  bosom  of  that  very  in- 
dividual, who  entirely  disowns,  and  is  en- 
tirely disgusted  with  the  other..  What  ! 
must  a  man  be  converted,  ere  from  the  most 
elevated  peak  of  some  Alpine  wilderness, 
he  becomes  capable  of  feeling  the  force  and 
the  majesty  of  those  great  lineaments  which 
the  hand  of  nature  has  thrown  around  him, 
in  the  varied  forms  of  precipice,  and  moun- 


tain, and  the  wave  of  mighty  forests,  and 
the  rush  of  sounding  waterfalls,  and  distant 
glimpses  of  human  territory,  and  pinnacles 
of  everlasting  snow,  and  the  sweep  of  that 
circling  horizon,  which  folds  in  its  ample 
embrace  the  whole  of  this  noble  am- 
phitheatre? Tell  me  whether,  without  the 
aid  of  Christianity,  or  without  a  particle  of 
reverence  for  the  only  name  given  under 
heaven  whereby  men  can  be  saved,  a  man 
may  not  kindle  at  such  a  perspective  as  this, 
into  all  the  raptures,  and  into  all  the  move- 
ments of  a  poetic  elevation ;  and  be  able  to 
render  into  the  language  of  poetry,  the 
whole  of  that  sublime  and  beauteous  image- 
ry which  adorns  it ;  aye,  and  as  if  he  were 
treading  on  the  confines  of  a  sanctuary 
which  he  has  not  entered,  may  he  not  mix 
up  with  the  power  and  the  enchantment 
of  his  description,  such  allusions  to  the  pre- 
siding genius  of  the  scene :  or  to  the  still 
but  animating  spirit  of  the  solitude ;  or  to 
the  speaking  silence  of  some  mysterious 
character  which  reigns  throughout  the  land- 
scape ;  or,  in  fine,  to  that  eternal  Spirit, 
who  sits  behind  the  elements  he  has  form- 
ed, and  combines  them  into  all  the  varieties 
of  a  wide  and  a  wondrous  creation  ;  might 
not  all  this  be  said  and  sung  with  an  em- 
phasis so  moving,  as  to  spread  the  colouring 
of  piety  over  the  pages  of  him  who  per- 
forms thus  well  upon  his  instrument;  and 
yet,  the  performer  himself  have  a  conscience 
unmoved  by  a  single  warning  of  God's  ac- 
tual communication,  and  the  judgment  un- 
convinced, and  the  fears  unawakened,  and 
the  life  unreformed  by  it  ? 

Now  what  is  true  of  a  scene  on  earth,  is 
also  true  of  that  wider  and  more  elevated 
scene  which  stretches  over  the  immensity 
around  it,  into  a  dark  and  a  distant  unknown. 
Who  does  not  feel  an  aggrandisement  of 
thought  and  of  faculty,  when  he  looks 
abroad  over  the  amplitudes  of  creation — 
when  placed  on  a  telescopic  eminence,  his 
aided  eye  can  find  a  pathway  to  innumera- 
ble worlds — when  that  wondrous  field,  over 
which  there  had  hung  for  many  ages  the 
mantle  of  so  deep  an  obscurity,  is  laid  open 
to  him,  and  instead  of  a  dreary  and  unpeo- 
pled solitude,  he  can  see  over  the  whole 
face  of  it  such  an  extended  garniture  of  rich 
and  goodly  habitations!  Even  the  Atheist 
who  tells  us  that  the  universe  is  self-exis- 
tent and  indestructible — even  he,  who  in- 
stead of  seeing  the  traces  of  a  manifold  wis- 
dom in  its  manifold  varieties,  sees  nothing 
in  them  all  but  the  exquisite  structures  and 
the  lofty  dimensions  of  materialism — even 
he,  who  would  despoil  creation  of  its  God, 
cannot  look  upon  its  golden  suns,  and  their 
accompanying  systems,  without  the  solemn 
impression  of  a  magnificence  that  fixes  and 
overpowers  him.  Now,  conceive  such  a 
belief  of  God  as  you  all  profess,  to  dawn 
upon  his  understanding.    Let  him  become 


VII-1 


INFLUENCE   OF   TASTE   AND    SENSIBILITY   IN    RELIGION. 


405 


as  one  of  yourselves — and  so  be  put  into  the 
condition  of  rising  from  the  sublime  of 
matter  to  the  sublime  of  mind.  Let  him 
now  learn  to  subordinate  the  whole  of  this 
mechanism  to  the  design  and  authority  of  a 
great  presiding  intelligence  ;  and  re-assem- 
bling all  the  members  of  the  universe,  how- 
ever distant,  into  one  family,  let  him  mingle 
witii  iiis  former  conceptions  of  the  grandeur 
which  belonged  to  it,  the  conception  of  that 
eternal  Spirit  who  sits  enthroned  on  the 
immensity  of  his  own  wonders,  and  em- 
braces all  that  he  has  made,  within  the 
ample  scope  of  one  great  administration. 
Then  will  the  images  and  the  impressions 
of  sublimity  come  in  upon  him  from  a  new 
quarter.  Then  will  another  avenue  be 
opened,  through  which  a  sense  of  grandeur 
may  find  its  way  into  his  soul,  and  have  a 
mightier  influence  than  ever  to  fill,  and  to 
elevate  and  to  expand  it.  Then  will  be  esta- 
blished a  new  and  a  noble  association,  by 
the  aid  of  which  all  that  he  formerly  look- 
ed upon  as  fair  becomes  more  lovely;  and 
all  that  he  formerly  looked  upon  as  great, 
becomes  more  magnificent.  But  will  you 
believe  me,  that  even  with  this  accession  to 
hi-;  mind  of  ideas  gathered  from  the  con- 
templation of  the  Divinity  ;  even  with  that 
pleasurable  glow  which  steals  over  his  ima- 
gination, when  he  now  thinks  him  of  the 
majesty  of  God  ;  even  with  as  much  of 
what  you  would  call  piety,  as  I  fear  is 
enough  to  soothe  and  to  satisfy  many  of 
yourselves,  and  which  stirs  and  kindles 
within  yon  when  you  hear  the  goings  forth 
<»f  the  Supreme  set  before  you  in  the  terms 
of  a  lofty  representation  ;  even  with  all  this, 
I  say  there  may  be  as  wide  a  distance  from 
the  habit  and  the  character  of  godliness,  as 
if  God  was  still  atheistically  disowned  by 
him.  Take  the  conduct  of  his  life  and  the 
currency  of  his  affections;  and  you  may  see 
as  little  upon  them  of  the  stamp  of  loyalty 
to  God,  or  of  reverence  for  any  one  of  his 
authenticated  proclamations,  as  you  may  see 
in  him  who  offers  his  poetic  incense  to  the 
genii,  or  weeps  enraptured  over  the  visions 
of  a  beauteous  mytholi  gy.  The  sublimeof 
Deity  has  wrought  up  his  soul  to  a  pitch 
of  conscious  and  pleasing  elevation — and 
vet  this  no  more  argues  the  will  of  Deity 
to  have  a  practical  authority  over  him, 
than  does  that  tone  of  elevation  which 
is  caught  by  looking  at  the  sublime  of  a 
naked  materialism.  The  one  and  the  other 
have  their  little  hour  of  ascendency  over 
him  ;  and  when  he  turns  him  to  the  rude 
and  ordinary  world,  both  vanish  alike  from 
his  sensibilities  as  does  the  loveliness  of  a 
song. 

To  kindle  and  be  elevated  by  a  sense 
of  the  majesty  of  God,  is  one  thing. 
It  is  totally  another  thing  to  feel  a  move- 
ment of  obedience  to  the  will  of  God,  under 
the  impression  of  his  rightful  authority  over 


all  the  creatures  whom  he  has  formed.  A 
man  may  have  an  imagination  all  alive  to 
the  former  ;  while  the  latter  never  prompts 
him  to  one  act  of  obedience ;  never  leads  him 
to  compare  his  life  with  the  requirements 
of  the  Lawgiver ;  never  carries  him  from 
such  a  scrutiny  as  this,  to  the  conviction  of 
sin  ;  never  whispers  such  an  accusation  to 
the  ear  of  his  conscience,  as  causes  him  to 
mourn,  and  to  be  in  heaviness  for  the  guilt 
of  his  hourly  and  habitual  rebellion  ;  never 
shuts  him  up  to  the  conclusion  of  the 
need  of  a  Saviour  ;  never  humbles  him  to 
acquiescence  in  the  doctrine  of  that  reve- 
lation, which  comes  to  his  door  with  such 
a  host  of  evidence,  as  even  his  own  philo- 
sophy cannot  bid  away  ;  never  extorts  a 
single  believing  prayer  in  the  name  of 
Christ,  or  points  a  single  look,  either  of  trust 
or  of  reverence,  to  his  atonement ;  never 
stirs  any  effective  movement  of  conversion  ; 
never  sends  an  aspiring  energy  into  his  bo- 
som after  the  aids  of  that  Spirit,  who  alone 
can  waken  him  out  of  his  lethargies,  and 
by  the  anointing  which  remaineth,  can 
rivet  and  substantiate  in  his  practice,  those 
goodly  emotions  which  have  hitherto  plied 
him  with  the  deceitfulness  of  their  mo- 
mentary visits,  and  then  capriciously  aban- 
doned him. 

The  mere  majesty  of  God's  power  and 
greatness,  when  offered  to  your  notice,  lays 
hold  of  one  of  the  faculties  within  you.  The 
holiness  of  God,  with  his  righteous  claim 
of  legislation,  lays  hold  of  another  of  these 
faculties.  The  difference  between  them  is 
so  great,  that  the  one  may  he  engrossed  and 
interested  to  the  full,  while  the  other  re- 
mains untouched,  and  in  a  state  of  entire 
dormancy.  Now,  it  is  no  matter  what  it  he 
that  ministers  delight  to  the  former  of  these 
two  faculties :  If  the  latter  be  not  arrested 
and  put  on  its  proper  exercise,  you  are 
making  no  approximation  whatever  to  the 
right  habit  and  character  of  religion.  There 
are  a  thousand  ways  in  which  we  may  con- 
trive to  regale  your  taste  for  that  which  is 
beauteous  and  majestic.  It  may  find  its 
gratification  in  the  loveliness  of  a  vale,  or 
in  the  freer  and  bolder  outlines  of  an  upland 
situation,  or  in  the  terrors  of  a  storm,  or  in 
the  sublime  contemplations  of  astronomy, 
or  in  the  magnificent  idea  of  a  God  who 
sends  forth  the  wakefulness  of  his  om- 
niscient eye,  and  the  vigour  of  his  upholding 
hand,  throughout  all  the  realms  of  nature 
and  of  providence.  The  mere  taste  of  the 
human  mind  may  get  its  ample  enjoyment 
in  each  and  in  all  of  these  objects,  or  in  a 
vivid  representation  of  them;  nor  does  it 
make  any  material  difference,  whether  this 
representation  be  addressed  to  you  from 
the  stanzas  of  a  poem,  or  from  the  recita- 
tions of  a  theatre,  or  finally  from  the  dis- 
courses and  the  demonstrations  of  a  pulpit. 
And  thus  it  is,  that  still  on  the  impulsi  of 


406 


INFLUENCE    OF   TASTE   AND   SENSIBILITY    IN    RELIG  ON. 


[DISC. 


the  one  principle  only,  people  may  come 
in  gathering  multitudes  to  the  house  of  God; 
and  share  with  eagerness  in  all  the  glow 
and  bustle  of  a  crowded  attendance;  and 
have  their  every  eye  directed  to  the  speaker ; 
and  feel  a  responding  movement  in  their 
bosom  to  his  many  appeals  and  his  many 
arguments ;  and  carry  a  solemn  and  over- 
powering impression  of  all  the  services 
away  with  them ;  and  yet  throughout  the 
whole  of  this  seemly  exhibition,  not  one 
efFectual  knock  may  have  been  given  at  the 
door  of  conscience.  The  other  principle 
may  be  as  profoundly  asleep,  as  if  hushed 
into  the  insensibility  of  death.  There  is  a 
spirit  of  deep  slumber,  it  would  appear, 
which  the  music  of  no  description,  even 
though  attuned  to  a  theme  so  lofty  as  the 
greatness  and  majesty  of  the  Godhead,  can 
ever  charm  away.  Oh !  it  may  have  been  a 
piece  of  parading  insignificance  altogether — 
the  minister  playing  on  his  favourite  in- 
strument, and  the  people  dissipating  away 
their  time  on  the  charm  and  idle  luxury  of 
a  theatrical  emotion. 

The  religion  of  taste,  is  one  thing.  The 
religion  of  conscience,  is  another.  I  recur 
to  the  test.  What  is  the  plain  and  practical 
doing  which  ought  to  issue  from  the  whole 
of  our  argument  ?  If  one  lesson  come  more 
clearly  or  more  authoritatively  out  of  it 
than  another,  it  is  the  supremacy  of  the 
Bible.  If  fitted  to  impress  one  movement 
rather  than  another,  it  is  that  movement  of 
a  docility,  in  virtue  of  which,  man,  with  the 
feeling  that  he  has  all  to  learn,  places  him- 
self in  the  attitude  of  a  little  child,  before 
the  book  of  the  unsearchable  God,  who  has 
deigned  to  break  his  silence,  and  to  trans- 
mit, even  to  our  age  of  the  world,  a  faithful 
record  of  his  own  communication.  What 
progress  then  are  you  making  in  this  move- 
ment ?  Are  you,  or  are  you  not,  like  new- 
born babes,  desiring  the  sincere  milk  of  the 
word,  that  you  may  grow  thereby?  How 
are  you  coming  on  in  the  work  of  casting 
down  your  lofty  imaginations'?  With  the 
modesty  of  true  science,  which  is  here  at 
one  with  the  humblest  and  most  penitenti- 
ary feeling  which  Christianity  can  awaken, 
are  you  bending  an  eye  of  earnestness  on 
the  Bible,  and  appropriating  its  informa- 
tions, and  moulding  your  every  conviction 
to  its  doctrines  and  its  testimonies  ?  How 
long,  I  beseech  you,  has  this  been  your 
habitual  exercise?  By  this  time  do  you  feel 
the  darkness  and  the  insufficiency  of  na- 
ture ?  Have  you  found  your  way  to  the 
need  of  an  atonement  ?  Have  you  learned 
the  might  and  the  efficacy  which  are  given 
to  the  principle  of  faith  ?  Have  you  longed 
witli  all  your  energies  to  realize  it  ?  Have 
you  broken  loose  from  the  obvious  misdo- 
ings of  your  former  history?  Are  you  con- 
vinced of  your  total  deficiency  from  the 
spiritual  obedience  of  the  affections?  Have 


you  read  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  by  whom  re- 
newed in  the  whole  desire  and  character  of 
your  mind,  you  are  led  to  run  with  alacrity 
in  the  way  of  the  commandments?  Have 
you  turned  to  its  practical  use,  the  impor- 
tant truth,  that  he  has  given  to  the  believ- 
ing prayers  of  all,  who  really  want  to  be 
relieved  from  the  power  both  of  secret  and 
of  visible  iniquity?  I  demand  something 
more  than  the  homage  you  have  rendered 
to  the  pleasantness  of  the  voice  that  has 
been  sounding  in  your  hearing.  What  I 
have  now  to  urge  upon  you,  is  the  bidding 
of  the  voice,  to  read,  and  to  reform  and  to 
pray,  and,  in  a  word,  to  make  your  con- 
sistent step  from  the  elevations  of  philoso- 
phy, to  all  those  exercises,  whether  of  doing 
or  of  believing,  which  mark  the  conduct  of 
the  earnest,  and  the  devoted,  and  the  sub- 
dued, and  the  aspiring  Christian. 

This  brings  under  our  view  a  most  deep- 
ly interesting  exhibition  of  human  nature, 
which  may  often  be  witnessed  among 
the  cultivated  orders  of  society.  When  a 
teacher  of  Christianity  addresses  himself  to 
that  principle  of  justice  within  us,  in  virtue 
of  which  we  feel  the  authority  of  God  to  be 
a  prerogative  which  righteously  belongs  to 
him,  he  is  then  speaking  the  appropriate 
language  of  religion,  and  is  advancing  its 
naked  and  appropriate  claim  over  the  obe- 
dience of  mankind.  He  is  then  urging  that 
pertinent  and  powerful  consideration,  upon 
which  alone  he  can  ever  hope  to  obtain 
the  ascendency  of  a  practical  influence  over 
the  purposes  and  the  conduct  of  human 
beings.  It  is  only  by  insisting  on  the  moral 
claim  of  God  to  a  right  of  government  over 
his  creatures,  that  he  can  carry  their  loyal 
subordination  to  the  will  of  God.  Let  him 
keep  by  this  single  argument,  and  urge  it 
upon  the  conscience,  and  then,  without  any 
of  the  other  accompaniments  of  what  is 
called  christian  oratory,  he  may  bring  con- 
vincingly home  upon  his  hearers  all  the 
varieties  of  christian  doctrine.  He  may 
establish  within  their  minds  the  dominion 
of  all  that  is  essential  in  the  faith  of  the 
New  Testament.  He  may,  by  carrying  out 
this  principle  of  God's  authority  into  all  its 
applications,  convince  them  of  sin.  He  may 
lead  them  to  compare  the  loftiness  and 
spirituality  of  his  law,  with  the  habitual 
obstinacy  of  their  own  worldly  affections. 
He  may  awaken  them  to  the  need  of  a  Sa- 
viour. He  may  urge  them  to  a  faithful  and 
submissive  perusal  of  God's  own  communi- 
cation. He  may  thence  press  upon  them  the 
truth  and  the  immutability  of  their  Sove- 
reign. He  may  work  in  their  hearts  an 
impression  of  this  emphatic  saying,  that 
God  is  not  to  be  mocked — that  his  law  must 
be  upheld  in  all  the  significancy  of  its  pro- 
clamations— and  that  either  his  severities 
must  be  discharged  upon  the  guilty,  or  in 
some  other  way  an  adequate  provision  b«i 


VII.] 


INFLUENCE   OF   TASTE   AND   SENSIBILITY    IN    RELIGION. 


407 


found  for  its  outraged  dignity,  and  its  vio- 
lated sanctions.  Thus  may  he  lead  them 
to  flee  for  refuge  to  the  blood  of  the  atone- 
ment. And  he  may  further  urge  upon  his 
hearers,  how,  such  is  the  enormity  of  sin, 
that  it  is  not  enough  to  have  found  an  ex- 
piation for  it ;  how  its  power  and  its  ex- 
istence must  be  eradicated  from  the  hearts 
of  all,  who  are  to  spend  their  eternity  in  the 
mansions  of  the  celestial ;  how,  for  this  pur- 
pose, an  expedient  is  made  known  to  us  in 
the  New  Testament ;  how  a  process  must 
be  described  upon  earth,  to  which  there  is 
given  the  appropriate  name  of  sanctifica- 
tion ;  how,  at  the  very  commencement  of 
every  true  course  of  discipleship,  this  pro- 
cess is  entered  upon  with  a  purpose  in  the 
mind  of  forsaking  all ;  how  nothing  short 
of  a  single  devotedness  to  the  will  of  God, 
will  ever  carry  us  forward  through  the  suc- 
cessive stages  of  this  holy  and  elevated  ca- 
reer; how,  to  help  the  infirmities  of  our 
nature,  the  Spirit  is  ever  in  readiness  to  be 
given  to  those  who  ask  it ;  and  that  thus 
the  life  of  every  Christian  becomes  a  life 
of  entire  dedication  to  Him  who  died  for 
us — a  life  of  prayer,  and  vigilance,  and  close 
dependance  on  the  grace  of  God ;  and,  as 
the  infallible  result  of  the  plain  but  power- 
ful and  peculiar  teaching  of  the  Bible,  a 
life  of  vigorous  unwearied  activity  in  the 
doing  of  all  the  commandments. 

Now,  this  I  would  call  the  essential  busi- 
ness of  Christianity.  This  is  the  truth  as 
it  is  in  Jesus,  in  its  naked  and  unassociated 
simplicity.  In  the  work  of  urging  it,  no- 
thing more  might  have  been  done,  than  to 
present  certain  views,  which  may  come 
with  as  great  clearness,  and  freshness,  and 
dike  as  full  possession  of  the  mind  of  a 
peasant  as  of  the  mind  of  a  philosopher. 
There  is  a  sense  of  God,  and  of  the  rightful 
allegiance  that  is  due  to  him.  There  are 
plain  and  practical  appeals  to  the  conscience. 
There  is  a  comparison  of  the  state  of  the 
heart,  with  the  requirements  of  a  law  which 
proposes  to  take  the  heart  under  its  obe- 
dience. There  is  the  inward  discernment 
of  its  coldness  about  God;  of  its  unconcern 
about,  the  matters  of  duty  and  of  eternity  ; 
of  its  devotion  to  the  forbidden  objects  of 
sense;  of  its  constant  tendency  to  nourish 
within  its  own  receptacles,  the  very  ele- 
ment and  principle  of  rebellion,  and  in 
virtue  of  this,  to  send  forth  the  stream  of 
an  hourly  and  accumulating  disobedience 
over  those  doings  of  the  outer  man,  which 
mike  up  liis  visible  history  in  the  world. 
There  is  such  an  earnest  and  overpower- 
ing impression  of  all  this,  as  will  fix  a 
in  tn  down  to  the  single  object  of ^deliver- 
ance; as  will  make  him  awake  only  to 
those  realities  which  have  a  significant 
and  substantial  bearing  on  the  case  that  en- 
grosses him;  as  will  teach  him  to  nauseate 
all  the  impertinences  of  tasteful  and  am- 


bitious description;  as  will  attach  him  to 
the  truth  in  its  simplicity;  as  will  fasten 
his  every  regard  upon  the  Bible,  where,  if 
he  persevere  in  the  work  of  honest  inquiry, 
he  will  soon  be  made  to  perceive  the  ac- 
cordancy  between  its  statements,  and  all 
those  movements  of  fear,  or  guilt,  or  deeply- 
felt  necessity,  or  conscious  darkness,  stu- 
pidity, and  unconcern  about  the  matters 
of  salvation,  which  pass  within  his  own 
bosom  ;  in  a  word,  as  will  endear  him  to 
that  plainness  of  speech,  by  which  his  own 
experience  is  set  evidently  before  him,  and 
that  plain  phraseology  of  scripture,  which 
is  best  fitted  to  bring  home  to  him  the  doc- 
trine of  redemption,  in  all  the  truth,  and  in 
all  the  preciousness  of  its  applications. 

Now,  the  whole  of  this  work  may  be 
going  on,  and  that  too  in  the  wisest  and 
most  effectual  manner,  without  so  much  as 
one  particle  of  incense  being  offered  to  any 
of  the  subordinate  principles  of  the  human 
constitution.  There  may  be  no  fascinations 
of  style.  There  may  be  no  magnificence  of 
description.  There  may  be  no  poignancy 
of  acute  and  irresistible  argument.  There 
may  be  a  rivetted  attention  on  the  part  of 
those  whom  the  Spirit  of  God  hath  awaken- 
ed to  seriousness  about  the  plain  and  affect- 
ing realities  of  conversion.  Their  con- 
science may  be  stricken,  and  their  appetite 
be  excited  for  an  actual  settlement  of  mind 
on  those  points  about  which  they  feel  rest- 
less and  unconfirmed.  Such  as  these  are 
vastly  too  much  engrossed  with  the  exigen- 
cies of  their  condition,  to  be  repelled  by 
the  homeliness  of  unadorned  truth.  And 
thus  it  is,  that  while  the  loveliness  of  the 
song  has  done  so  little  in  helping  on  the 
influences  of  the  gospel,  our  men  of  sim- 
plicity and  prayer  have  done  so  much  for 
it.  With  a  deep  and  earnest  impression  of 
the  truth  themselves,  they  have  made  mani- 
fest that  truth  to  the  consciences  of  others. 
Missionaries  have  gone  forth  with  no  other 
preparation  than  the  simple  Word  of  the 
Testimony — and  thousands  have  owned  its 
power,  by  being  both  the  hearers  of  the 
word  and  the  doers  of  it  also.  They  have 
given  us  the  experiment  in  a  state  of  un- 
mingled  simplicity  ;  and  we  learn,  from  the 
success  of  their  noble  example,  that  with- 
out any  one  human  expedient  to  charm 
the  ear,  the  heart  may,  by  the  naked  in- 
strumentality of  the  Word  of  God,  urged 
with  plainness  on  those  who  feel  its  deceit 
and  its  worthlcssness,  be  charmed  to  an 
entire  acquicsence  in  the  revealed  way 
of  God,  and  have  impressed  upon  it  the 
genuine  stamp  and  character  of  godliness. 

Could  the  sense  of  what  is  due  to  God, 
be  effectually  stirred  up  Within  the  human 
bosom,  it  would  lead  to  a  practical  carrying 
of  all  the  lessons  of  Christianity.  Now,  to 
awaken  this  moral  sense,  there  are  certain 
simple  relations  bet  ween  the  creature  and  the 


408 


INFLUENCE   OF   TASTE    AND    SENSIBILITY    IN    RELIGION. 


[disc. 


Creator,  which  must  be  clearly  apprehend- 
ed, and  manifested  with  power  unto  the 
conscience.  We  believe,  that  however  much 
philosophers  may  talk  about  the  compara- 
tive ease  of  forming  those  conceptions 
which  are  simple,  they  will,  if  in  good  earn- 
est after  a  right  footing  with  God,  soon  dis- 
cover in  their  own  minds,  all  that  darkness 
;aid  incapacity  about  spiritual  things,  which 
are  so  broadly  announced  to  us  in  the  New 
Testament.  And,  oh  !  it  is  a  deeply  inter- 
esting spectacle,  to  behold  a  man,  who  can 
take  a  masterly  and  commanding  survey 
over  the  field  of  some  human  speculation, 
who  can  clear  his  discriminated  way  through 
all  the  turns  and  ingenuities  of  some  human 
argument,  who  by  the  march  of  a  mighty  and 
resistless  demonstration,  can  scale  with  as- 
sured footstep  the  sublimities  of  science, 
and  from  his  firm  stand  on  the  eminence 
he  has  won,  can  descry  some  wondrous 
range  of  natural  or  intellectual  truth  spread 
out  in  subordination  before  him ; — and  yet 
this  very  man  may,  in  reference  to  the 
moral  and  authoritative  claims  of  the  God- 
head, be  in  a  state  of  litter  apathy  and  blind- 
ness !  All  his  attempts,  either  at  the  spiritu- 
al discernment,  or  the  practical  impression 
of  this  doctrine,  may  be  arrested  and  baffled 
Dy  the  weight  of  some  great  inexplicable 
impotency.  A  man  of  homely  talents,  and 
.still  homelier  education,  may  see  what  he 
cannot  see,  and  feel  what  he  cannot  feel ; 
and  wise  and  prudent  as  he  is,  there  may 
lie  the  barrier  of  an  obstinate  and  impene- 
trable concealment,  between  his  accomplish- 
ed mind,  and  those  things  which  are  re- 
vealed unto  babes. 

But  while  his  mind  is  thus  utterly  devoid 
of  what  may  be  called  the  main  or  elemental 
principle  of  theology,  he  may  have  a  far 
quicker  apprehension,  and  have  his  taste 
and  his  feelings  much  more  powerfully  in- 
terested, than  the  simple  Christian  who  is 
beside  him,  by  what  may  be  called  the  cir- 
cumstantials of  theology.  He  can  throw  a 
wider  and  more  rapid  glance  over  the  mag- 
nitudes of  creation.  He  can  be  more  deli- 
cately alive  to  the  beauties  and  the  sublimi- 
ties which  abound  in  it.  He  can,  when  the 
idea  of  a  presiding  God  is  suggested  to  him, 
have  a  more  kindling  sense  of  his  natural 
majesty,  and  be  able,  both  in  imagination 
and  in  words,  to  surround  the  throne  of 
the  Divinity  by  the  blazonry  of  more  great, 
and  splendid,  and  elevating  images.  And 
yet,  with  all  those  powers  of  conception 
which  he  does  possess,  he  may  not  possess 
that  on  which  practical  Christianity  hinges. 
The  moral  relation  between  him  and  God, 
may  neither  be  effectively  perceived,  nor 
faithfully  proceeded  on.  Conscience  may  be 
in  a  state  of  the  most  entire  dormancy, 
and  the  man  be  regaling  himself  with  the 
magnificence  of  God,  while  lie  neither  loves 
God,  nor  believes  God,  nor  obeys  God. 


And  here  I  cannot  but  remark,  how  much 
effect  and  simplicity  go  together  in  the  an- 
nals of  Moravianism.  The  men  of  this  truly 
interesting  denomination,  address  them- 
selves exclusively  to  that  principle  of  our 
nature  on  which  the  proper  influence  of 
Christianity  turns.  Or,  in  other  words, 
they  take  up  the  subject  of  the  gospel  mes- 
sage, that  message  devised  by  him  who  knew 
what  was  in  man,  and  who,  therefore,  knew 
how  to  make  the  right  and  the  suitable  ap- 
plication to  man.— They  urge  the  plain  Word 
of  the  Testimony;  and  they  pray  for  a  bless- 
ing from  on  high  ;  and  that  thick  impalpable 
veil,  by  which  the  god  of  this  world  blinds 
the  hearts  of  men  who  believe  not,  lest  the 
light  of  the  glorious  gospel  of  Christ  should 
enter  into  them — that  veil,  which  no 
power  of  philosophy  can  draw  aside,  gives 
way  to  the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit;  and 
thus  it  is,  that  a  clear  perception  of  scrip- 
tural truth,  and  all  the  freshness  and  per- 
manency of  its  moral  influences,  are  to 
be  met  with  among  men  who  have  just 
emerged  from  the  rudest  and  the  grossest 
barbarity. — Oh !  when  one  looks  at  the 
number  and  the  greatness  of  their  achieve- 
ments ;  when  he  thinks  of  the  change  they 
have  made  on  materials  so  coarse  and  so 
unpromising;  when  he  eyes  the  villages 
they  have  formed ;  and  around  the  whole 
of  that  engaging  perspective  by  which  they 
have  chequered  and  relieved  the  grim  soli- 
tude of  the  desert,  he  witnesses  the  love, 
and  listens  to  the  piety  of  reclaiming 
savages ; — who  would  not  long  to  be  in 
possession  of  the  charm  by  which  they 
have  wrought  this  wondrous  transforma- 
tion— who  would  not  willingly  exchange 
for  it  all  the  parade  of  human  eloquence, 
and  all  the  confidence  of  human  argument 
— and  for  the  wisdom  of  winning  souls, 
who  is  there  that  would  not  rejoice  to  throw 
the  loveliness  of  the  song,  and  all  the  in- 
significancy of  its  passing  fascinations, 
away  from  him  ? 

And  yet  it  is  right  that  every  cavil  against 
Christianity  should  be  met,  and  every  argu- 
ment for  it  be  exhibited,  and  all  the  graces 
and  sublimities  of  its  doctrine  be  held 
out  to  their  merited  admiration.  And  if  it 
be  true,  as  it  certainly  is,  that  throughout 
the  whole  of  this  process,  a  man  may  be 
carried  rejoicingly  along  from  the  mere 
indulgence  of  his  taste,  and  the  mere  play 
and  exercise  of  his  understanding;  while 
conscience  is  untouched,  and  the  suprema- 
cy of  moral  claims  upon  the  heart  and  the 
conduct  is  practically  disowned  by  him — 
it  is  further  right  that  this  should  be  adver- 
ted to;  and  that  such  a  melancholy  un- 
hingement in  the  constitution  of  man  should 
be  fully  laid  open,  and  that  he  should  be 
driven  "out  of  the  seductive  complacency 
which  he  is  so  apt  to  cherish,  merely  because 
he  delights  in  the  loveliness  of  the  song ; 


VII.] 


INFLUENCE    OF   TASTE    AND    SENSIBILITY    IN    RELIGION. 


409 


and  that  he  should  be  urged  with  the  im- 
periousness  of  a  demand  which  still  remains 
unsatisfied,  to  turn  him  from  the  corrupt 
indifference  of  nature,  and  to  become  per- 
sonally a  religious  man ;  and  that  he  should 
be  assured  how  all  the  gratification  he  felt 
in  listening  to  the  word  which  respected 
the  kingdom  of  God,  will  be  of  no  avail, 
unless  that  kingdom  come  to  himself  in 
power — that  it  will  only  go  to  heighten  the 
;ierversity  of  his  character — that  it  will  not 
extenuate  his  real  and  practical  ungodliness, 
but  will  serve  most  fearfully  to  aggravate 
the  condemnation  of  it. 

With  a  religion  so  argumentable  as  ours, 
it  may  be  easy  to  gather  out  of  it  a  feast 
for  the  human  understanding.  With  a  re- 
ligion so  magnificent  as  ours,  it  may  be 
easy  to  gather  out  of  it  a  feast  for  the  hu- 
man imagination.  But  with  a  religion  so 
humbling,  and  so  strict,  and  so  spiritual,  it 
is  not  easy  to  mortify  the  pride ;  or  to  quell 
the  strong  enmity  of  nature ;  or  to  arrest 
the  currency  of  the  affections ;  or  to  turn 
the  constitutional  habits;  or  to  pour  a  new 
'•omplexion  over  the  moral  history;  or  to 
stem  the  domineering  influence  of  things 
seen  and  things  sensible ;  or  to  invest  faith 
with  a  practical  supremacy ;  or  to  give  its 
objects  such  a  vivacity  of  influence  as  shall 
overpower  the  near  and  the  hourly  im- 
pressions, that  are  ever  emanating  upon 
man  from  a  seducing  world.  It  is  here 
that  man  feels  himself  treading  upon  the 
limit  of  his  helplessness.  It  is  here  that  he 
sees  where  the  strength  of  nature  ends ;  and 
the  power  of  grace  must  either  be  put  forth, 
or  leave  him  to  grope  his  darkling  way, 
without  one  inch  of  progress  towards  the 
life  and  the  substance  of  Christianity.  It 
is  here  that  a  barrier  rises  on  the  contem- 
plation of  the  inquirer — the  barrier  of  sepa- 
ration between  the  carnal  and  the  spiritual, 
and  on  which  he  may  idly  waste  the  every 
energy  which  belongs  to  him,  in  the  en- 
terprise of  surmounting  it.  It  is  here,  that 
after  having  walked  the  round  of  nature's 
acquisitions,  and  lavished  upon  the  truth  of 
all  his  ingenuities,  and  surveyed  it  in  its 
'■very  palpable  character  of  grace  and  ma- 
esty ;  he  will  still  feel  himself  on  a  level 
with  the  simplest  and  most  untutored  of  the 
species.  He  needs  the  power  of  a  living 
manifestation.  He  needs  the  anointing 
which  remaincth.  He  needs  that  which 
lixes  and  perpetuates  a  stable  revolution 
upon  the  character,  and  in  virtue  of  which 
iie  may  be  advanced  from  the  state  of 
one  who  hears,  and  is  delighted,  to  the 
state  of  one  who  hears,  and  is  a  doer.  Oh  ! 
how  strikingly  is  the  experience  even  of 
vigorous  and  accomplished  nature  at  one 
on  this  point  with  the  announcements  of 
revelation,  that  to  work  this  change,  there 
must  be  the  putting  forth  of  a  peculiar 
agency ;  and  that  it  is  an  agency,  which, 
52 


withheld  from  the  exercise  of  loftiest  talent, 
is  often  brought  down  on  an  impressed  au- 
dience, through  the  humblest  of  all  instru- 
mentality, with  the  demonstration  of  the 
Spirit  and  with  power. 

Think  it  not  enough,  that  you  carry  in 
your  bosom  an  expanded  sense  of  the  mag- 
nificence of  creation.     But  pray  for  a  sub- 
duing sense  of  the  authority  of  the  Creator. 
Think  it  not  enough,  that  with  the  justness 
of  a  philosophical  discernment,  you   have 
traced  that  boundary  which  hems  in  all  the 
possibilities  of  human  attainment,  and  have 
found    that   all  beyond  it  is    a   dark    and 
fathomless  unknown.     But  let  this  modesty 
of  science  be  carried,  as  in  consistency  it 
ought,  to  the  question  of  revelation,  and 
let  all  the  antipathies  of  nature  be  schooled 
to  acquiescence  in  the  authentic  testimonies 
of  the  Bible.  Think  it  not  enough  that  you 
have  looked  with  sensibility  and  wonder  at 
the  representation  of  God  throned  in  im- 
mensity, yet  combining  with  the  vastness 
of  his  entire  superintendence,  a  most  tho- 
rough inspection  into  all  the  minute  and 
countless  diversities  of  existence.  Think  of 
your  own  heart  as  one  of  these  diversities ; 
and  that  he  ponders  all  its  tendencies ;  and 
has  an  eye  upon  all  its  movements;  and 
marks  all  its  waywardness ;  and,  God  of 
judgment  as  he  is,  records  its  every  secret, 
and  its  every  sin,  in  the  book  of  his  remem- 
brance.    Think  it  not   enough,  that  you 
have  been  led  to  associate  a  grandeur  with 
the  salvation  of  the  New  Testament ;  when 
made  to  understand  that  it  draws  upon  it 
the  regards  of  an  arrested  universe.  How  is 
it  arresting  your  own  mind?  What  has  been 
the  earnestness  of  your  personal  regards 
towards  it?    And  tell  me,  if  all  its  faith, 
and  all  its  repentance,  and  all  its  holiness 
are  not  disowned  by  you?     Think  it  not 
enough,  that  you  have  felt  a  sentimental 
charm  when  angels  were  pictured  to  your 
fancy  as  beckoning  you  to  their  mansions, 
and  anxiously  looking  to  the  every  symp- 
tom of  your  grace  and  reformation.     Oh  ! 
be  constrained  by  the  power  of  all  this  ten- 
derness, and  yield  yourselves  up  in  a  prac- 
tical obedience  to  the  call  of  the  Lord  God 
merciful  and  gracious.  Think  it  not  enough 
that  you  have  shared  for  a  moment  in  the 
deep  and  busy  interest  of  that  arduous  con- 
flict which  is  now  going  on  for  a  moral 
ascendency  over  the  species.     Remember 
the  conflict  is  for  each  of  you  individually ; 
and  let  this  alarm  you  into  a  watchfulness 
against   the   power   of  every  temptation, 
and    a    cleaving    dependence    upon    him 
through  whom  alone  you  will  be  more  than 
conquerors.     Above   all,   forget   not   that 
while  you  only  hear  and  are  delighted,  you 
are  still  under  nature's  powerlessness,  and 
nature's  condemnation — and  that  the  foun- 
dation is  not  laid,  the  mighty  and  essential 
change  is  not  accomplished,  the  transition 


410 


APPENDIX. 


from  death  unto  life  is  not  undergone,  the 
saving  faith  is  not  formed,  nor  the  passage 
taken  from  darkness  to  the  marvellous  light 
of  the  gospel,  till  you  are  both  hearers  of 


the  word  and  doers  also.     "  For  if  any  be  a  what  manner  of  man  he  was." 


hearer  of  the  word  and  not  a  doer,  he  is 
like  unto  a  man  beholding  his  natural  face 
in  a  glass :  for  he  beholdeth  himself,  and 
goeth  his  way,  and  straightway  forgetteth 


APPENDIX. 


The  writer  of  these  Discourses  has  drawn  up  the  following  compilation  of  pas 
sages  from  Scripture,  as  serving  to  illustrate  or  to  confirm  the  leading  arguments 
which  have  been  employed  in  each  separate  division  of  his  subject. 


DISCOURSE  I. 

In  the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and 
the  earth.     Gen.  i.  1. 

Thus  the  heavens  and  the  earth  were  finished, 
and  all  the  host  of  them.     Gen.  ii.  1. 

Behold  the  heaven,  and  the  heaven  of  heavens, 
is  the  Lord's  thy  God,  the  earth  also,  with  all  that 
therein  is.     Deut.  x.  14. 

There  is  none  like  unto  the  God  of  Jeshurun, 
who  rideth  upon  the  heaven  in  thy  help,  and  in 
his  excellency  on  the  sky.     Deut.  xxxiii.  26. 

And  Hezekiah  prayed  Defore  the  Lord,  and 
said,  O  Lord  God  of1  Israel,  which  dwellest  be- 
tween the  cherubims,  thou  art  the  God,  even  thou 
alone,  of  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth ;  thou  hast 
made  heaven  and  earth.     2  Kings  xix.  15. 

For  all  the  gods  of  the  people  are  idols;  but  the 
Lord  made  the  heavens.     1  Chronicles  xvi.  26. 

Thou,  even  thou,  art  Lord  alone;  thou  hast 
made  heaven,  the  heaven  of  heavens,  with  all  their 
host,  the  earth  and  all  things  that  are  therein,  the 
seas  and  all  that  is  therein ;  and  thou  preservest 
them  all ;  and  the  host  of  heaven  worship  thee. 
Nehemiah  ix.  6. 

Which  alone  spreadeth  out  the  heavens,  and 
treadeth  upon  the  waves  of  the  sea;  which  ma- 
keth  Arcturus,  Orion,  and  Pleiades,  and  the 
chambers  of  the  south.     Job  ix.  8,  9. 

He  stretcheth  out  the  north  over  the  empty  place, 
and  hangeth  the  earth  upon  nothing.    Job  xxvi.  7. 

By  his  spirit  he  hath  garnished  the  heavens. 
Job  xxvi.  13. 

The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God;  and  the 
firmament  showeth  his  handy-work.  Psalm  xix.  1. 

By  the  word  of  the  Lord  were  the  heavens 
made ;  and  all  the  host  of  them  by  the  breath  of  his 
mouth.     Psalm  xxxiii.  6. 

Of  old  hast  thou  laid  the  foundation  of  the 
earth ;  and  the  heavens  are  the  work  of  thy  hands. 
Psalm  cii.  25. 

Who  coverest  thyself  with  light  as  with  a  gar- 
ment; who  stretchest  out  the  heavens  like  a  curtain. 
Psalm  civ.  2. 

He  appointed  the  moon  for  seasons;  the  sun 
imoweth  his  going  down.     Psalm  civ.  19. 

You  are  blessed  of  the  Lord  which  made  heaven 
and  earth.  The  heaven,  even  the  heavens,  are  the 
Lord's,  but  the  earth  hath  he  given  to  the  children 
of  men.     Psalm  cxv.  15, 16. 

My  help  cometh  from  the  Lord,  which  made 
heaven  and  earth.     Psalm  exxi.  2. 

Our  help  is  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  who  made 
heaven  and  earth.     Psalm  exxiv.  8. 


The  Lord  that  made  heaven  and  earth,  bless 
thee  out  of  Zion.     Psalm  exxxiv.  3. 

Which  made  heaven  and  earth,  the  sea,  and  all 
that  therein  is.     Psalm  cxlvi.  6. 

The  Lord  by  wisdom  hath  founded  the  earth ; 
by  understanding  hath  he  established  the  heavens. 
Prov.  iii.  19. 

Who  hath  measured  the  waters  in  the  hollow 
of  his  hand,  and  meted  out  heaven  with  the  span, 
and  comprehended  the  dust  of  the  earth  in  a  mea- 
sure, and  weighed  the  mountains  in  a  scale,  and 
the  hills  in  a  balance.     Isa.  xl.  12. 

It  is  he  that  sitteth  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth, 
and  the  inhabitants  thereof  are  as  grasshoppers; 
that  stretcheth  out  the  heaven  as  a  curtain,  and 
spreadeth  them  out  as  a  tent  to  dwell  in.  Isa.  xl.  22. 

Thus  saith  God  the  Lord,  he  that  created  the 
heavens,  and  stretched  them  out;  he  that  spread 
forth  the  earth,  and  that  which  cometh  out  of  it ; 
he  that  giveth  breath  unto  the  people  upon  it,  and 
spirit  to  them  that  walk  therein.    Isa.  xlii.  5. 

Thus  saith  the  Lord,  thy  Redeemer,  and  he 
that  formed  thee  from  the  womb,  I  am  the  Lord 
that  maketh  all  things ;  that  stretcheth  forth  the 
heavens  alone;  that  spreadeth  abroad  the  earth  by 
myself.     Isa.  xliv.  24. 

I  have  made  the  earth,  and  created  man  upon  it ; 
I,  even  my  hands,  have  stretched  out  the  heavens, 
and  all  their  host  have  I  commanded.     Isa.  xlv.  12. 

For  thus  saith  the  Lord  that  created  the  hea- 
vens, God  himself  that  formed  the  earth  and  made 
it,  he  hath  established  it,  he  created  it  not  in  vain, 
he  formed  it  to  be  inhabited.     Isa.  xlv.  18. 

Mine  hand  also  hath  laid  the  foundation  of  the 
earth,  and  my  right  hand  hath  spanned  the  hea- 
vens; when  I  call  unto  them,  they  stand  up  to 
gether.     Isa.  xlviii.  13. 

He  hath  made  the  earth  by  his  power,  he  hath 
established  the  world  by  his  wisdom,  and  hath 
stretched  out  the  heavens  by  his  discretion.  Jer. 
x.  12. 

Ah  Lord  God !  behold,  thou  hast  made  the  hea- 
ven and  the  earth  by  thy  great  power  and  stretch- 
ed out  arm,  and  there  Ls  nothing  too  hard  for  thee. 
Jer.  xxxii.  17. 

He  hath  made  the  earth  by  his  power,  he  hath 
established  the  world  by  his  wisdom,  and  hath 
stretched  out  the  heaven  by  liis  understanding. 
Jer.  Ii.  15. 

It  is  he  that  buildeth  his  stories  in  the  heaven, 
and  hath  founded  his  troop  in  the  earth ;  he  that 
calleth  for  the  waters  of  the  sea,  and  poureth  them 
out  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  The  Lord  is  hi? 
name.     Amos  ix.  6. 


APPENDIX. 


411 


We  also  arc  men  of  like  passions  with  you,  and 
preach  unto  you,  that  ye  should  turn  from  these 
vanities  unto  the  living  God,  which  made  heaven, 
and  earth,  and  the  sea,  and  all  tilings  that  are 
therein.     Acts  xiv.  15. 

I  lath  in  these  last  days  spoken  unto  us  by  his 
Son,  whom  he  hath  appointed  heir  of  all  things, 
by  whom  also  he  made  the  worlds.     Heb.  i.  2. 

Thou,  Lord,  in  the  beginning  hast  laid  the 
loundation  of  the  earth ;  and  the  heavens  are  the 
work  of  thine  hands.     Heb.  i.  10. 

Through  faith,  we  understand  that  the  worlds 
were  framed  by  the  word  of  God.     Heb.  xi.  3. 


DISCOURSE  II. 

Thk  secret  things  belong  unto  the  Lord  our 
God,  but  those  things  which  are  revealed  belong 
unto  us  and  to  our  children  for  ever,  that  we  may 
do  all  the  words  of  this  law.     Deut.  xxix.  29. 

I  would  seek  unto  God,  and  unto  God  would  I 
commit  my  cause;  Which  doeth  great  things  and 
unsearchable ;  marvellous  things  without  number. 
Job  v.  8,  9. 

Which  doeth  great  things  past  finding  out; 
yea,  and  wonders  without  number.     Job  ix.  10. 

Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out  God?  Canst 
thou  find  out  the  Almighty  unto  perfection  ?  Job 
xi.  7. 

Hast  thou  heard  the  secret  of  God  ?  and  dost 
thou  restrain  wisdom  to  thyself?     Job  xv.  8. 

Lo,  these  are  parts  of  his  ways ;  but  how  little  a 
portion  is  heard  of  him  ?  but  the  thunder  of  his 
power  who  can  understand  ?     Job  xxvi.  14. 

Behold,  God  is  great,  and  we  know  him  not; 
runt  her  can  the  number  of  his  years  be  searched 
out.     Job  xxxvi.  26. 

God  thundereth  marvellously  with  his  voice; 
great  things  doeth  he,  which  we  cannot  compre- 
hend.    Job  xxxvii.  5. 

Touching  the  Almighty,  we  cannot  find  him 
out ;  he  is  excellent  in  power,  and  in  judgment, 
and  in  plenty  of  justice.     Job  xxxvii.  23. 

Thy  way  is  in  the  sea,  and  thy  path  in  the 
great  waters,  and  thy  footsteps  are  not  known. 
iJsalm  lx.wii.  19. 

Great  is  the  Lord,  and  greatly  to  be  praised ; 
"  and  his  greatness  is  unsearchable.    Psalm  cxlv.  3. 

For  my  thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts,  neither 
are  your  ways  my  ways,  saith  the  Lord.  For  as 
the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth,  so  arc  my 
ways  higher  than  your  ways,  and  my  thoughts 
than  your  thoughts.     Isa.  lv.  8,  9. 

Verily  1  say  unto  you,  except  ye  be  converted, 
and  become  as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.     .Matt,  xviii.  3. 

Verily  1  say  unto  you,  whosoever  shall  not  re- 
ceive  the  kingdom  of  rod,  as  a  little  child,  shall  in 
no  wise  enter  therein.     Luke  xviii.  17. 

<  )the  depth  of  the  riches,  both  of  the  wisdom  and 
knowledge  of  (Jod!  how  unsearchable  are  his 
judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding  out!  For 
who  bath  known  the  mind  of  the  Lord!  Or  who 
hath  been  his  counsellor !     Rom.  xi.  33.  24. 

Let  no  man  deceive  himself.  If  any  man 
among  \,,u  seemeth  to  be  wise  in  this  world,  let 
him  become  a  tool,  that  he  may  bo  wise.  1  Cor. 
iii.  18. 

For  if  a  man  thinketh  himself  to  be  something, 
when  he  is  nothing,  he  deceiveth  himself.  Gal 
vi.  3. 

Beware  lest  any  man  spoil  you  through  philoso- 
phy and  vain  deceit,  after  the  tradition  of  men,  af- 


ter the  rudiments  of  the  world,  and  not  after  Christ. 
Col.  ii.  8. 

O  Timothy,  keep  that  which  is  committed  to 
thy  trust,  avoiding  profane  and  vain  babblings,  and 
oppositions  of  science  falsely  so  called.  1  Tim. 
vi.  20. 


DISCOURSE  III. 

But  will  God  indeed  dwell  on  the  earth'?  Be- 
hold the  heaven,  and  the  heaven  of  heavens,  can- 
not contain  thee ;  how  much  less  this  house  that  I 
have  builded?  Yet  have  thou  respect  unto  the 
prayer  of  thy  servant,  and  to  his  supplication,  O 
Lord  my  God,  to  hearken  unto  the  cry  and  to  the 
prayer  which  thy  servant  prayeth  beibre  thee  to- 
day. Tfi^^thine  eyes  may  be  open  towards  this 
house  night  and  day,  even  towards  the  place  of 
which  thou  hast  said,  My  name  shall  be  there; 
that  thou  mayest  hearken  unto  the  prayer  which 
thy  servant  shall  make  towards  this  place.  1  Kings 
viii.  27,  28,  29. 

For  he  looketh  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and 
seeth  under  the  whole  heaven.     Job  xxviii.  24. 

For  his  eyes  are  upon  the  ways  of  man,  and  he 
seeth  all  his  goings.    Job  xxxiv.  21. 

Though  the  Lord  be  high,  yet  hath  he  respect 
unto  the  lowly.     Psalm  exxxviii.  6. 

O  Lord,  thou  hast  searched  me  and  known  me. 
Thou  knowest  my  down-sitting  and  mine  up- 
rising :  thou  understandest  my  thoughts  afar  olf. 
Thou  compasseth  my  path  and  my  lying  down, 
and  art  acquainted  with  all  my  ways.  For  there 
is  not  a  word  in  my  tongue,  but  lo,  O  Lord !  thou 
knowest  it  altogether.  Thou  hast  beset  me  behind 
and  before,  and  laid  thine  hand  upon  me.  Such 
knowledge  is  too  wonderful  for  me;  it  is  high  1 
cannot  attain  unto  it.  Whither  shall  I  go  from 
thy  Spirit,  or  whither  shall  I  flee  from  thy  pre- 
sence ?    Psalm  exxxix.  1 — 7. 

How  precious  also  are  thy  thoughts  unto  me,  O 
God !  how  great  is  the  sum  of  them !  If  1  should 
count  them  they  are  more  in  number  than  the 
sand :  when  I  awake  I  am  still  with  thee.  Psalms 
exxxix.  17,  18. 

The  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  in  every  place,  be 
holding  the  evil  and  the  good.     Prov.  xv.  3. 

Can  any  hide  himself  in  secret  places  that  I 
shall  not  see  him?  saith  the  Lord:  do  not  1  fill 
heaven  and  earth?  saith  the  Lord.     Jer.  xxiii.  24. 

Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air;  lor  they  sow  not, 
neither  do  they  reap,  nor  gather  into  barns;  yet 
your  heavenly  Father  feedeth  them.  Are  ye  not 
much  better  than  they?  And  why  take  ye  thought 
for  raiment?  Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field  how 
they  grow?  they  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin; 
And  yet  I  say  unto  you,  that  even  Solomon,  in 
all  his  glory,  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these. 
Wherclbre  if  Cod  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the  field, 
which  to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into  the 
oven,  shall  he  not  much  more  clothe  you,  O  ye  of 
little  of  faith  ?     Matt.  vi.  -Jti,  28,  ±>,  30. 

Neither  is  there  any  creature  that  is  not  mani- 
fest in  his  sight;  but  all  things  are  naked  and 
opened  unto  the  eyes  of  him  with  whom  we  have 
to  do.     Hob.  iv.  13. 


DISCOURSE  IV. 

And  he  dreamed,  and  behold  a  ladder  set  up  on 
the  earth,  and  the  top  of  it  reached  to  heaven ;  and 


412 


APPENDIX. 


behold  the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descend- 
ing on  it.     Gen.  xxviii.  12. 

For  a  thousand  years  in  thy  sight,  are  but  as 
yesterday  when  it  is  past,  and  as  a  watch  in  the 
night.     Psalm  xc.  4. 

Lift  up  your  eyes  to  the  heavens,  and  look  upon 
the  earth  beneath:  for  the  heavens  shall  vanish  away 
like  smoke,  and  the  earth  shall  wax  old  like  a  gar- 
ment, and  they  that  dwell  therein  shall  die  in  like 
manner ;  but  my  salvation  shall  be  for  ever,  and  my 
righteousness  shall  not  be  abolished.     Isa.  li.  6. 

For  the  son  of  man  shall  come  in  the  glory  of 
his  Father  with  his  angels ;  and  then  he  shall  re- 
ward every  man  according  to  his  works.  Matt. 
xvi.  27. 

When  the  Son  of  Man  shall  come  in  his  glory, 
and  all  the  holy  angels  with  him,  then  shall  he  sit 
upon  the  throne  of  his  glory.     Matt.  xxv.  31. 

Also,  I  say  unto  you,  Whosoever  shall  confess 
me  before  men,  him  shall  the  Son  of  Man  also 
confess  before  the  angels  of  God.  But  he  that  de- 
nieth  me  before  men,  shall  be  denied  before  the 
angels  of  God.    Luke  xii.  8,  9. 

And  he  saith  unto  him,  Verily,  verily,  I  say  un- 
to you,  hereafter  ye  shall  see  heaven  open,  and  the 
angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending  upon  the 
Son  of  Man.     John  i.  51. 

We  are  made  a  spectacle  to  the  world,  and  to 
angels,  and  to  men.     1  Cor.  v.  9. 

Wherefore  God  also  hath  highly  exalted  him, 
and  given  him  a  name  which  is  above  every  name. 
That  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow, 
of  things  in  heaven  and  things  in  earth,  and  things 
under  the  earth ;  and  that  every  tongue  should  con- 
fess that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord,  to  the  glory  of  God 
the  Father.     Phil.  ii.  9,  10,  11. 

When  the  Lord  Jesus  shall  be  revealed  from 
heaven  with  his  mighty  angels.     2  Thess.  i.  7. 

And  without  controversy  great  is  the  mystery 
of  godliness;  God  was  manifest  in  the  flesh,  justi- 
fied in  the  Spirit,  seen  of  angels,  preached  unto  the 
Gentiles,  believed  on  in  the  world,  received  up  into 
glory.     1  Tim.  iii.  16. 

I  charge  thee  before  God,  and  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  the  elect  angels,  that  thou  observe 
these  things.     1  Tim.  v.  21. 

And  again,  when  he  bringcth  in  the  first-begot- 
ten into  the  world,  he  saith,  And  let  all  the  angels 
of  God  worship  him.     Heb.  i.  6. 

But  ye  are  come  unto  Mount  Zion,  and  unto 
the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
and  to  an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  To  the 
general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first  born, 
which  are  written  in  heaven,  and  to  God  the 
the  Judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect,  and  to  Jesus,  the  mediator  of  the 
new  covenant.    Hebrews  xii.  22,  23,  24. 

But,  beloved,  be  not  ignorant  of  this  one  thing, 
that  one  day  is  with  the  Lord  as  a  thousand  years, 
and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day.  The  Lord  is 
not  slack  concerning  his  promise,  as  some  men 
count  slackness ;  but  is  long-sufTering  to  us-ward, 
not  willing  that  any  should  perish,  but  that  all 
should  come  to  repentance.  But  the  day  of  the 
Lord  will  come  as  a  thief  in  the  night;  in  the 
which  the  heavens  shall  pass  away  with  a  great 
noise,  and  the  elements  shall  melt  with  fervent 
heat,  the  earth  also  and  the  works  that  are  there- 
in, shall  be  burnt  up.     2  Peter  iii.  8,  9,  10. 

And  the  angel  which  I  saw  stand  upon  the  sea 
and  upon  the  earth,  lifted  up  his  hand  to  heaven, 
And  sware  by  him  that  liveth  for  ever  and  ever, 
who  created  heaven  and  the  things  that  therein 
are,  and  the  earth  and  the  things  that  there- 
in are,   and  the  sea  and  the  things  which  are 


therein,  tbat  there  should  be  time  no  longer.  Rev. 
x.  S,  6. 

And  the  third  angel  followed  them,  saying 
with  a  loud  voice,  if  any  man  worship  the  beast 
and  his  image,  and  receive  his  mark  in  his  forehead 
or  in  his  hand,  The  same  shall  drink  of  the  wine 
of  the  wrath  of  God,  which  is  poured  out  without 
mixture  into  the  cup  of  his  indignation ;  and  he 
shall  be  tormented  with  fire  and  brimstone  in  the 
presence  of  the  holy  angels,  and  in  the  presence 
of  the  Lamb.     Rev.  xiv.  9,  10. 

And  I  saw  a  great  white  throne,  and  him  that 
sat  on  it,  from  whose  face  the  earth  and  the 
heaven  fled  away,  and  there  was  found  no  place 
for  them.     Rev.  xx.  11. 


DISCOURSE  V. 

And  Nathan  departed  unto  his  house ;  and  the 
Lord  struck  the  child  that  Uriah's  wife  bare  unto 
David,  and  it  was  very  sick.  David,  therefore,  be- 
sought God  for  the  child :  and  David  fasted  and 
went  in  and  lay  all  night  upon  the  earth.  And 
the  elders  of  his  house  arose,  and  went  to  him,  to 
raise  him  up  from  the  earth ;  but  he  would  not, 
neither  did  he  eat  bread  with  them.  And  it  came 
to  pass  on  the  seventh  day,  that  the  child  died. 
And  the  servants  of  David  feared  to  tell  him  that 
the  child  was  dead;  for  they  said,  Behold,  while 
the  child  was  yet  alive,  we  spake  unto  him,  and 
he  would  not  hearken  unto  our  voice,  how  will  he 
then  vex  himself,  if  we  tell  him  that  the  child  is 
dead?  But  when  David  saw  that  his  servants 
whispered,  David  perceived  that  the  child  was 
dead;  therefore  David  said  unto  his  servants,  Is 
the  child  dead  ?  And  they  said  he  is  dead.  Then 
David  arose  from  the  earth  and  washed,  and 
anointed  himself,  and  changed  his  apparel,  and 
came  into  the  house  of  the  Lord,  and  worshipped  : 
then  he  came  to  his  own  house  ;  and,  when  he  re- 
quired, they  set  bread  before  him,  and  he  did  eat. 
Then  said  his  servants  unto  him,  What  thing  is 
that  thou  hast  done?  Thou  didst  fast  and  weep  for 
the  child  while  it  was  alive :  but  when  the  child 
was  dead,  thou  didst  rise  and  eat  bread.  And  he 
said,  while  the  child  was  yet  alive,  I  fasted  and 
wept ;  for  I  said  who  can  tell  whether  God  will  be 
gracious  to  me,  that  the  child  may  live?  But  now 
he  is  dead,  wherefore  should  I  fast?  Can  1  bring 
him  back  again  ?  I  shall  go  to  him,  but  he  shall 
not  return  to  me.     2  Sam.  xii.  15 — 23. 

The  angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth  round  about 
them  that  fear  him,  and  dclivercth  them.  Psalm 
xxxiv.  7. 

For  he  shall  give  his  angels  charge  over  thee,  to 
keep  thee  in  all  thy  ways.     Psalm  xci.  2. 

And  he  shall  send  his  angels  with  a  great 
sound  of  a  trumpet ;  and  they  shall  gather  together 
his  elect  from  the  four  winds,  from  the  one  end  ot 
heaven  to  the  other.     Matt.  xxiv.  31. 

Likewise  I  say  unto  you,  There  is  joy  in  the 
presence  of  the  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that 
repenteth.     Luke  xv.  10. 

Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth 
to  minister  for  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation. 
Heb.  i.  14. 


DISCOURSE  VI. 

Then  was  Jesus  led  up  of  the  Spirit  into  the 

wilderness,  to  be  tempted  of  the  devil.    Matt.  iv.  1. 

The  enemy  that  sowed  them  is  the  devil ;  the 


APPENDIX. 


313 


harvest  is  the  end  of  the  world ;  and  the  reapers 
are  the  angels.  The  Son  of  Man  shall  send  forth 
his  angels,  and  they  shall  gather  out  of  his  king- 
dom all  things  that  offend,  and  them  which  do  ini- 
quity.     Matt.  xiii.  39,  41. 

Then  shall  he  say  also  unto  them  on  the  left 
hand,  Depart  from  me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting 
lire  prepared  for  the  devij  and  his  angels.  Matt. 
xxv.  41. 

And  in  the  synagogue  there  was  a  man  which 
had  a  spirit  of  an  unclean  devil,  and  cried  out  with 
a  loud  voice,  saying,  Let  us  alone ;  what  have  we 
to  do  with  thee,  thou  Jesus  of  Nazareth ;  art  thou 
come  to  destroy  us  ?  I  know  thee  who  thou  art: 
the  Holy  <  >ne  of  God.     Luke  iv.  33,  34. 

Those  by  the  way  side  are  they  that  hear;  then 
cometh  the  devil  and  taketh  away  the  word  out  of 
their  hearts,  lest  they  should  believe  and  be  saved. 
Luke  viii.  12. 

But  he  knowing  their  thoughts,  said  unto  them, 
Every  kingdom  divided  against  itself  is  brought  to 
desolation ;  and  a  house  divided  against  a  house, 
falkth.  If  Satan  also  be  divided  against  himself, 
how  shall  his  kingdom  stand  ?  because  ye  say  that 
I  cast  out  devils  through  Beelzebub.  Luke  xi. 
17,  18. 

Ye  are  of  your  father  the  devil,  and  the  lusts  of 
your  father  ye  will  do;  he  was  a  murderer 
from  the  beginning,  and  abode  not  in  the  truth, 
because  there  is  no  truth  in  him.  When  he 
speakcth  a  lie,  he  speaketh  of  his  own  :  for  he  is  a 
liar,  and  the  father  of  it.     John  viii.  44. 

And  supper  being  ended,  (the  devil  having 
now  put  into  the  heart  of  Judas  Iscariot,  Simon's 
son  to  betray  him,)     John  xiii.  2. 

But  Peter  said,  Ananias,  why  hath  Satan  filled 
thine  heart  to  lie  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  to  keep 
back  part  of  the  price  of  the  land  ?     Acts  v.  3. 

To  open  their  eyes,  and  to  turn  them  from  dark- 
ness to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto 
-  jod,  that  they  may  receive  forgiveness  of  sins, 
and  an  inheritance  among  them  which  are  sancti- 
fied by  faith  that  is  in  me.     Acts  xxvi.  18. 

And  the  God  of  peace  shall  bruise  Satan  under 
your  feet  shortly.  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  be  with  you.  Amen.   Rom.  xvi.  20. 

Lest  Satan  should  get  an  advantage  of  us ;  for 
we  are  not  ignorant  of  his  devices.  2  Cor.  ii.  11. 
In  whom  the  God  of  this  world  hath  blinded  the 
minds  of  them  which  believe  not,  lest  the  light  of 
the  glorious  gospel  of  Christ,  who  is  the  image  of 
God,  should  shine  unto  them.     2  Cor.  iv.  4. 

Wherein  in  time  past  ye  walked  according  to 
the  course  of  this  world,  according  to  the  prince 
of  the  power  of  the  air,  the  spirit  that  now  work- 
eth  in  tin  children  of  disobedience.  Eph.  ii.  2. 

Put  on  the  whole  armour  of  God,  that  ye  may 
be  able  to  stand  against  the  wiles  of  the  devil.  Fo^ 
we  wrestle  nut  against  flesh  and  blood,  but  against 
principalities,  against  powers,  against  the  rulers 
of  the  darkness  of  this  world,  against  spiritual 
wickedness  in  high  places.     Eph.  vi.  11,  12. 

For  some  are  already  turned  aside  after  Satan. 
I  Timothy  v.  15. 

Forasmuch  then  as  the  children  are  partakers  of 
llcsh  and  blood,  he  also  himself  likewise  took  part 
of  the  same;  that  through  death  he  might  destroy 
him  that  had  the  power  of  death,  that  is  the  devil. 
Ileb.  ii.  11. 

Submit  yourselves  therefore  to  God.  Resist  the 
devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  you.     James  iv.  1. 

Be  sober,  be  vigilant ;  because  your  adversary 
the  devil,  as  a  roaring  lion,  walketh  about,  seeking 
whom  he  may  devour ;  whom  resist  steadfast  in 
I  h  •  faith,  knowing  that  the  same  afflictions  are  ac- 


complished in  your  brethren  that  are  in  the  world. 
1  Peter  v.  8,  9. 

He  that  committeth  sin  is  of  the  devil ;  for  the 
devil  sinneth  from  the  beginning.  For  this  purpose 
the  Son  of  God  was  manifested,  that  he  might  de- 
stroy the  works  of  the  devil. 

In  this  the  children  of  God  are  manifest  and  the 
children  of  the  devil ;  whosoever  doeth  not  righ- 
teousness is  not  of  God,  neither  lie  that  loveth  not 
his  brother.     1  John  iii.  8,  10. 

Ye  are  of  God,  little  children,  and  have  over- 
come them ;  because  greater  is  he  that  is  in  you, 
than  he  that  is  in  the  world.    1  John  iv.  4. 

And  the  angels  which  kept  not  their  tirst  estate, 
but  left  their  own  habitation,  he  hath  reserved  in 
everlasting  chains,  under  darkness,  unto  the  judg- 
ment of  the  great  day.     Jude  6. 

He  that  overeometh,  the  same  shall  be  clothed 
in  white  raiment ;  and  I  will  not  blot  out  his  name 
out  of  the  book  of  life,  but  I  will  confess  his  name 
before  my  Father,  and  before  his  angels.  Rev. 
iii.  5. 

And  there  was  war  in  heaven ;  Michael  and  his 
angels  fought  against  the  dragon ;  and  the  dragon 
fought  and  his  angels,  And  prevailed  not ;  neither 
was  their  place  found  any  more  in  heaven.  And 
the  great  dragon  was  cast  out,  that  old  serpent, 
called  the  Devil,  and  Satan,  which  deceiveth  the 
whole  world ;  he  was  cast  out  into  the  earth,  and 
his  angels  were  cast  out  with  him.  Therefore  re- 
joice, ye  heavens,  and  ye  that  dwell  in  them.  Wo 
to  the  inhabiters  of  the  earth  and  of  the  sea !  for 
the  devil  is  come  down  unto  you,  having  great 
wrath,  because  he  knoweth  that  he  hath  but  a 
short  time.     Rev.  xii.  7,  8,  9,  12. 

And  he  laid  hold  on  the  dragon,  that  old  ser- 
pent, which  is  the  Devil,  and  Satan,  and  bound 
him  a  thousand  years.  And  when  the  thousand 
years  are  expired,  Satan  shall  be  loosed  out  of  his 
prison.  And  the  devil  that  deceived  them  was 
cast  into  a  lake  of  fire  and  brimstone,  where  the 
beast  and  the  false  prophet  are,  and  shall  be  tor- 
mented day  and  night,  for  ever  and  ever.  Rev.  xx. 
2,  7,  10. 


DISCOURSE  VII. 

Therefore,  whosoever  heareth  these  sayings 
of  mine,  and  doeth  them,  I  will  liken  him  to  a  wise 
man,  which  built  his  house  upon  a  rock  :  And  the 
the  rain  descended,  and  the  floods  came,  and  the 
winds  blew,  and  heat  upon  that  house;  and  it 
fell  not;  foritwas  founded  upon  a  rock.  And  every 
one  that  heareth  these  sayings  of  mine,  and  doeth 
them  not,  shall  be  likened  unto  a  foolish  man, 
which  built  his  house  upon  the  sand:  And  the 
rain  descended,  and  the  floods  came,  and  the  winds 
blew,  and  beat  upon  that  house ;  and  it  fell ;  and 
great  was  the  fall  of  it.     Matt.  vii.  24 — 27. 

At  that  time,  Jesus  answered  and  said,  I  thank 
thee,  O  Father!  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  be- 
cause thou  hast  hid  these  things  from  the  wise 
and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed  them  unto  babes. 
Matt.  xi.  25. 

Then  shall  ye  begin  to  say,  we  have  eaten  and 
drank  in  thy  presence,  and  thou  hast  taught  in 
our  streets.  But  he  shall  say,  I  tell  you,  1  know 
you  not  whence  ye  are ;  depart  from  me  all  ye 
workers  of  iniquity.     Luke  xiii.  26,  27. 

For  not  the  hearers  of  the  law  are  just  before 
God,  but  the  doers  of  the  law  shall  be  justified. 
Rom.  ii.  13. 

And  I,  brethren,  when  I  came  to  you,  came  not 


414 


APPENDIX. 


with  excellency  of  speech  or  of  wisdom,  declaring 
unto  you  the  testimony  of  God.  For  I  determined 
not  to  know  any  thing  among  you,  save  Jesus 
Christ  and  him  crucified.  And  my  speech  and 
my  preaching  was  not  with  enticing  words  of 
man's  wisdom,  but  in  demonstration  of  the  Spirit 
and  of  power.  That  your  faith  should  not  stand 
in  the  wisdom  of  men,  but  in  the  power  of  God. 
Now  we  have  received  not  the  spirit  of  the  world, 
but  the  Spirit  which  is  of  God ;  that  we  might 
know  the  tilings  that  are  freely  given  to  us  of  God. 
Which  things  also  we  speak,  not  in  the  words 
which  man's  wisdom  teacheth,  but  which  the 
Holy  Ghost  teacheth  ;  comparing  spiritual  things 
with  spiritual.  But  the  natural  man  receiveth  not 
the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God ;  for  they  are  foolish- 
ness unto  him ;  neither  can  he  know  them,  because 
they  are  spiritually  discerned.  1  Cor.  ii.  1,  2,  4,  5, 
12,  13,  14. 

For  the  wisdom  of  this  world  is  foolishness 
with  God.  1  Cor.  iii.  19. 

For  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  word,  but  in 
power.     1  Cor.  iv.  20. 

Forasmuch  as  ye  are  manifestly  declared  to  be 
the  epistle  of  Christ  ministered  by  us,  written  not 
with  ink,  but  with  the  Spirit  of  the  living  God ; 
not  in  tables  of  stone,  but  in  fleshly  tables  of 
the  heart.  Not  that  we  are  sufficient  of  ourselves 
to  think  any  thing  as  of  ourselves ;  but  our  suffi- 
ciency is  of  God:  who  also  hath  made  us  able 
ministers  of  the  New  Testament ;  not  of  the  let- 
ter, but  of  the  spirit ;  for  the  letter  killeth,  but  the 
spirit  giveth  life.    2  Cor.  iii.  3,  5,  6. 

That  the  God  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  Fa- 
ther of  glory,  may  give  unto  you  the  spirit  of  wis- 
dom and  revelation  in  the  knowledge  of  him ;  The 
eyes  of  your  understanding  being  enlightened; 
that  ye  may  know  what  is  the  hope  of  his  calling, 


and  what  the  riches  of  the  glory  of  his  inheritance 
in  the  saints.  And  what  is  the  exceeding  great- 
ness of  his  power  to  us-ward  who  believe,  accord- 
ing to  the  working  of  his  mighty  power.  Eph.  i, 
17,  18,  19. 

And  you  hath  he  quickened,  who  were  dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins.  For  we  are  his  workmanship, 
created  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good  works.  Eph.  ii. 
1,  10. 

For  our  gospel  came  not  unto  you  in  word  only, 
but  also  in  power,  and  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  in 
much  assurance.     1  Thes.  i.  5. 

Of  his  own  will  begat  he  us  with  the  word  of 
truth,  that  we  should  be  a  kind  of  first-fruits  of  his 
creatures. 

But  be  ye  doers  of  the  word,  and  not  hearers 
only,  deceiving  yourselves.  For  if  any  be  a  hearer 
of  the  word,  and  not  a  doer,  he  is  like  unto  a  man 
beholding  his  natural  face  in  a  glass.  For  he  be- 
holdeth  himself,  and  goeth  his  way,  and  straight- 
way forgetteth  what  manner  of  man  he  was.  But 
whoso  looketh  into  the  perfect  law  of  liberty,  and 
continueth  therein,  he  being  not  a  forgetful  hearer, 
but  a  doer  of  the  work,  this  man  shall  be  blessed 
in  his  deed.     James  i.  18,  22 — 25. 

But  ye  are  a  chosen  generation,  a  royal  priest- 
hood, an  holy  nation,  a  peculiar  people,  that  ye 
should  show  forth  the  praises  of  him  who  has  call- 
ed you  out  of  darkness  into  his  marvellous  light. 
1  Peter  ii.  9. 

But  ye  have  an  unction  from  the  Holy  One,  and 
ye  know  all  things. 

But  the  anointing  which  ye  have  received  of 
him  abideth  in  you ;  and  ye  need  not  that  any 
man  teach  you ;  but  as  the  same  anointing  teacheth 
you  of  all  things,  and  is  truth,  and  is  no  lie,  and 
even  as  it  hath  taught  you,  ye  shall  abide  in  him 
1  John  ii.  20,  27. 


THE  END. 


